Today, for example, I write out of frustration, dejection, and fear. I write out of a hopeless feeling that, at the same time, knows there is always hope. It is a paradox. It seems that there is a wall in front of me in regard to the problems I have with my knee injury. Around every corner there is a new door that seems to lead nowhere but to another door. No resolution. It is hard not to see it as a never-ending series of problems, headaches, and heartaches.
I hope in reality it is as Donald Miller describes it: I hope it is Jazz Music. It may not resolve but it is honest. It is true. It speaks truth to the soul. My body may be truly wasting away, but may the spirit soar.
You know what, I am feeling a little better. Maybe I'll listen to some jazz.