Church Hangover

Mondays are interesting days.  Interesting like a splinter under your fingernail.  Interesting like watching an open heart surgery on the discovery channel.  Interesting like the monotone teacher I had in biology class that drove me insane and caused me to run to humanities as opposed to science.

Some people dread mondays because they drank too much and are dealing with nasty hangovers.  Some dread mondays due to jobs they hate and people they abhor and they spend the day pining for the leisure days of the weekend.  I on the other hand dread monday mornings due to church hangover.  

I have the privilege of actually liking the people with which I attend a local church.  They are my friends and colleagues and we spend a lot of time dreaming together, planning together, and just enjoying life together.  I find myself lying down late on sunday nights having imbibed the nectar of deep relationships, meaningful conversation, and purposeful "hang time" with a heady intoxication similar to that of a good, strong port or a warm cognac.  Sleep comes easily and deeply and with a satisfaction that feeds the spirit and calms the soul . . .

 . . . and then comes the blaring alarm jarring me from my peaceful slumber.  Monday.  Work.  Responsibility.  Missing my friends, missing the purpose, missing . . . just missing.  An emptiness inside that hangs around til mid day, sometimes only cured by a good monday night game or a dinner party with friends that reminds me we are not supposed to be alone on our journey.  We are not home yet, and though this land is in beautiful techni-color, we are only passing through, and it is only when we are with fellow travelers that any sense can be made of the brilliant colors, weird creatures, and disturbing abberations that we experience in this Oz in which we find ourselves.

While I don't enjoy my monday hangover I do not allow it to deter me from returning to the well to drink deeply again the following week.  For while mondays are typically seen in black and white, I have come to the realization that I was born for techni-color.  Born for the journey.  Born for purpose and meaning.  I have decided the remedy to this problem is to drink from the well of purpose everyday.  To live life in such a way that meaning is daily and the journey is exciting.  To reach a point where life and purpose and friends don't separate into sterile compartments but rather blend and ferment into a complex vintage, good for consumption and good for the heart.

Rather than quit drinking and avoid the inevitable "hangover" . . .  I have decided to drink daily.