Who am I?

And what am I doing here?

I am the woman I always wanted to be.

But the meaning of my life doesn't seem to be known to me.

I thought going to a monastery would be meaningful. Last night, I had a dream about it. I was in the monastery and was to be professed that evening. I had been asked to come back, pre-approved for profession. So I went because I wanted to be joined. But, I also wondered, "Why do you want to join this place when you have looked at their blog for the past 2 years and thought it was stupid? Why do you want to spend every day on Catholicism? You don't believe in it."

As I sit here and type, I think, "Whats wrong with running?" Look at the girl in the picture who is running a decent but not fast half marathon. She is happy. Several e-friends have said they are jealous of the muscle cut arms. In the original picture I have here at home, I look even better.

My quest of transcendence might be a quest to merely be human.

Americans are taught to keep trying to be more. This teaching produces agitation and dis-satisfaction with ordinary loving situations.

I'd love to go back to the Silverton 1000 and run for six days. But I'm pretty sure that the current condition of my knee would bump me off the steep hills on the first day. Whats wrong with totally pleasant half marathons interspersed with 20 hours of training a week?

At work, several great things happened. On Thursday, after a long day of goal setting with the Basic Chemicals team, I was apologizing to the leader for not staying for happy hour; because such things are usually semi-mandatory team building. He said that it was totally optional and no one should ever apologize for not staying or feel bad for not staying. That is the first time that the guilt has been totally removed. He was a messenger of love.

Yesterday, the Environmental Control manager drove me all around the site and pointed out all the water, utilities and infrastructure items he is responsible for. Really, the Chem-park where I work is huge. Nearly a city with 3,000 people and the massive usage of materials as well as disposal needs. I felt very good about riding around and seeing all the sites. He was a messenger of love.

Then, after a very long meeting, I got a golf cart ride from a guy named Mohammed who is very strictly practicing Halal. He is my co-worker and about 20 years younger and really cute. He was asking me how I liked Houston and talking about how he missed the Philadelphia ghetto. It came down to a friendship discussion and how few real friends (maybe only one) we had. He understood when I said that with most people I carry on superficial relationships, not saying anything important but getting along fine. See, he may be on the opposite end of a religious continuum than me, but we feel the same. I left him feeling like he was a real friend simply because we could discuss the subject of friendship. He was a messenger of love.

Whats wrong with being satisfied with a friend in a chemical plant above monastic profession or ultra-marathoning?

Is this love?

Or this?

We should accept all love as equal, no matter where it is found. Nobody is more holy than anyone else.