I like the way, when I hit the ground running, when I put the pedal to the metal, when the rubber meets the road, when there’s an endless ribbon of solid cement in front of me, when the trees are a-whizzin’ by me, when the clouds are as aimless as my heart, how the good Lord meets me in the movement. My soul was made for movement, moving on, moving forward, made for speed (not too fast), made for exhilaration, elation, elevation, every nation. My stomach settles with each bend, my shoulders relax with every new thing I see. My ear canals are empty, I can hear the voice of my God, peaceful, soft, and steady, no matter what the sky’s doing. With a cup of coffee in my hand, the windows down (unless it’s raining), a song I made up tripping off my tongue (who cares about “graceful?”), perpetual giggles coming up from the balls of my feet to the crown of my head, I can’t help but understand– can’t help but believe– can’t help but nod my head of long blonde hair to the fact (the FACT).. that I was made for movement.
The previous paragraph was written in the style I have affectionately termed (“termed?”) “Gut Truth.” Sometimes I just need to not filter. It’s soOOoOOOoo much easier to gut myself when I’m on the road, I’ve found. And I am on the road right now. Well, I suppose I can hardly call this “the road.” I’m in Cookeville. For Sabbath.
It’s Sabbath! For me. I’ve chosen a day out of the middle of the week for my Sabbath, b’cause– well, rEALLy, who doesn’t think of church as work? Lord bless me, I hope I’m not out of line here, but church is just about one of the most difficult things I can think of to do. It’s all about service and community, fellowship, learning, making Sunday meals, cleaning the house for Sunday company, getting up early, arriving on time, disciplined behavior, forced conversation topics, memorization, application– WORK WORK WORK WORK WORK WORK WORK! As Bart said, “We don’t want that. We want to go off on our own! Experience the essential Hawaya!” (Amen, Bart. Amen.)
So here I be! I’ve chosen to not work today. Unless of course, it’s easy and non-work-like to work. Like I emailed some pictures to a friend, because it was such a delight to be able to do that for him. And I drove. HAHhahahAHahhhaaa.. ahaaa, oh driving could never.. ever.. ever be work. Unless of course it’s driving to church (guhhh). Just kidding. Sort of.
Anyway. I’m in Cookeville. At an aDORable little coffee shop called “Poet’s on the Square.” I wonder if that’s the owner’s last name, a unique indie sentence-for-a-name name, or if the owner is from Sudan.. or Georgia. Any old way, it is SO CUTE! Lots of nice little pieces of artwork (except for one bunch of paintings that are skull-themed.. ik), sweet little hipster baristi that don’t smile at all, and home-made crafties for sale. It always amazes me that people actually buy these crafties. They’re like things my little sisters made for me when they were onions (young’ns)– and I loved!– because my little sisters made them for me!– but would never buy from a store (unless my little sisters were selling them). Maybe the crafters’ big sisters buy their crafties. That would make sense.
WOAH!! Woah, I just saw a really, really cute boy riding passenger in a hurst. “Hurst?” Ha, I mean hearse. Will admit.. did not know how to spell or say that word until about twelve seconds ago.. mmm.
But enough about boys. Let’s just try and forget they exist. Just for today. (P.S. Reply from non-work work of sending pictures to friend: “Thanks Carla. These are really good and make me happy. -Chris” Sweeeeeetie!) So! On to non-boy-related things! Like what happened on the drive today!! <:D Listen to this:
So. Here it is, it’s the gut truth; don’t know why or how, but: when I’m “on the road,” for SOME reason, I feel so.
infinitely.
more peaceful than I do at home. Infinitely. I know I exaggerate ALL the TIME (ehhh..), but seriously?– I can’t even describe how much more at home I feel on the road than I do at home. It’s not even worth trying to explain. Especially today, since I’m not working. AT ANY RATE!– what this sensation often looks like is that I’m able to comprehend, understand, discern, and make decisions about things at an accelerated rate, b’cause the humdrum boring old routine habitual activities aren’t cluttering up the passageways from my gut to my head (and heart, and hands, and eyes, and feet).
All of this to say: It was relatively effortless for me to slip into a MUCH-NEEDED conversation with God. Now, that hasn’t happened in a while. At least to these proportions. I don’t want to go into too much detail, but we really did discuss some incredibly important things, and I feel like because of it, a certain chapter in my life has come to a close. It’s all very exciting.
I like Cookeville. So far. If it weren’t so blamed windy outside, I’d be exploring this downtown part. I’m so content to just sit here and watch the wind making other people work to maintain their dignity. Hahaa! It’s definitely not work to laugh. Well. I think I’m going to get off’n here. Maybe draw something. Ooh… drAW something!! (:)
carlabaudrons.art 
1. I love stopping in Cookeville! Although I’m retarded and lame and everyone hates me and I have only stopped at the Starbucks off the interstate. Some of my favorite memories have been of meeting Katie Gray and Marshall (separately, at different times) there and talking.
2. Your first paragraph was beautiful, Carla! Oh it was so lyric and precise, so very full of your own soul. Please keep writing blogs after Lent.
3. Did I ever tell you about the time Marshall and I were sitting at a stop sign? So we were stopped, waiting for the cars to let up so we could drive on down the road, and suddenly I noticed the cars had little flags on their antennae that looked like, official, or royal. I said something like, Whoa, I wonder who all these cars are for! And he turned to me, and said with a look of incredulity, Did you not SEE the hurst??? At which point I got to make fun of him for calling a “hearse” a “hurst,” so, there was much rejoicing. The end.