Yesterday I found myself lost. Not geographically but (ugh) existentially.
At my church job, I sat in the choir loft (alto section, hmpf) and listened to one of the more experienced priests — a man who every week brings deeper meaning to the word doddering — intone his homily, and I thought, Nope, this is not where I belong.
In the early afternoon, we were invited to a party at the home of some friends, a wonderful family. They always throw great parties with plentiful, delicious food and cheerful company. I was in a sour mood, disengaged, and I thought, Nope, this is not where I belong.
The Temple sisterhood organized an outing for a selection from the Boston Jewish Film Festival at a theatre close to my home, and I booked a ticket. Many of them were going to tea afterward at the Sri Lankan teahouse around the corner, but I didn’t even entertain the notion of dropping the eighteen bucks, on top of the price of the movie ticket. The movie, Camera Obscura, was stunning, but the theatre was already quite full when I arrived and I didn’t see anyone I knew. I ended up sitting alone, and while I thoroughly enjoyed the film itself, I thought, Nope, this is not where I belong.
I sometimes go through these periods where I feel like I’m not quite synching up with the world around me, like I’m waiting at the wrong track for my train and wondering why the hell it hasn’t arrived yet.