Wilderness, All Around

Wilderness is everywhere. It's easy to forget that living in a city where the stars are obscured by lights. My schedule is a giant blur of color and I run from one thing to the next, choking down a granola bar to hold me over until who-knows-when. I eat most of meals on the go. If not on the go, then standing, or while reading, or while trying to write. Life moves quickly. School moves even faster. I often feel like I can't keep up, and like I might hurt myself trying to. 

Lent asks me to slow down. The wilderness is likened to times of confusion and despair, but it is also a place of reflection and restructuring. This is the season where I get to think actively about the life I live. Is it what I want? Do I like who I am? Do I feel close to God? It's this last question that usually trips me. Without the expanse of visible stars, I feel disconnected. My world revolves around me. When I slow down and reflect, I reorient my heart to those things that matter. I can pause, letting the silence swell around me. It moves me towards my God-space. The space where I feel at home with the divine. The space that I forsake so easily.  In the silence, I am called back. In the wilderness, I find my way home.