I've been sorting out life while sorting out laundry.
A few weeks ago....I stumbled upon Socrates in the City.
And since I don't live in New York - in state or in mind, really - I lean in and listen to these forums online - all while folding, creasing, hanging.
As it turns out....dropping in to hear incredibly intelligent people converse - it can ignite the most mundane of moments.
Like..... laundry time.
Now it's true that I'm no slick academic. I struggled through high school and scratched out a college degree ......mostly at the aid of others and a prayer.
I was never known for having mental prowess, or an interest in noble thoughts, or success in the classroom.
But stay-at-home motherhood.....
came with a hunger.
By the time that second blonde made her debut - I found myself so full, yet so empty....needing cognitive stimulation of some sort to plop down from somewhere.
Even me here....the non-academic.
So I've immersed myself in books. And sermons. And teachings. And the things I've gathered up and jotted down - fill notebooks.
But only recently did I discover the Socrates forums.
And doing so has transformed the carrying out of my to-do list.
Poet, Christian Wiman
Writer, Malcolm Gladwell
Scholar, Stephen Meyer
Author, Rod Dreher
Mathematician, John Lennox
....and more.
Eric Metaxas converses with these guys at a gala of sorts - and the things one can garner from it are outright glorious.
Mid fold - I have found myself scurrying around for a pen and pushing pause so that I can copy down some of the brilliance.
That first recording I watched....the one with Wiman....I watched it on a day when I was feeling rather discouraged in my writing. I, once again, was beginning to think that because I have no platform or applause - I should just push it all aside and call it a fail.
But in the very deep of me....in the very depths of my gut - I knew that ceasing to write - would mean ceasing to really live. That the one way I really knew how to press into God....was by pressing these keys. The one way I knew to tap in....was to tap out.
And then Wiman - sits down in a chair in New York City - and spills the following:
"You don't make art because you have an idea and you want to express it. You make art because it's the way you translate your experience. It's the only way that you are able to be in the world. If you don't have that - it's like your language is taken away."
The wail of my heart, exactly.
A bit later in the discussion - Wiman brings up the fact that 'faith is communal'....that "There is something that we need to see in other people in order for our experience to have validity."
Indeed. Funny....the one saying that - is the one who provided the validity for me that day.
After the phonics book closes and before the math text opens - during our school break later this morning - I'll stand at the edge of my bed and stack shirts, pair socks, and crease pants. At the same time..... I'll be filling my parched mind with new, soaring, inspiring speech.
Me - the mama - the homeschooling marm.... way down here on the gulf in a rented house and a loud, good, child-filled season - I cup my ear northward to that great big city and glean.
Leaning in to listen - has made such a difference.
It's made laundry lofty.
And I really, really like that.
