Dwelling places

I can become totally consumed by the physical stimuli my five senses deliver to my cognitive consciousness.  That consuming is not automatic.  Like most of us, the purpose-driven side of life, even if the purpose is as simple as going to the store for a loaf of bread, distracts my senses from what is around me.  Avoiding traffic and working to keep what I want to achieve from disappearing from the “to-do” list, I fail to notice my surroundings.

In my retirement, I have been working on noticing the places where I dwell, where I live mentally.  The goal is to train my aging mind to recognize what to avoid and what to select as beneficial for my health.

There is not much profit for me in “zoning out.”  While alone time is essential for mental, relational, and emotional health, for me, it’s not moving forward.  Yes, it is good to step off the rocky upward trek, to catch a breath or recompose, but it leaves victory out of reach.   Many of the national and state parks have resting benches, or shiny rocks and logs where folks have plopped their weary behinds to rest a spell.  I have used most of them.  However, sitting is sometimes necessary to reach the goal.  Such places are places to pause, but not places to dwell.

I wonder if there is a difference between where I live and where I dwell?  My house is on a wooded hill in Greenbrier, Tennessee.  I love the house Jan and I built, as well as the hunk of land upon which it sits.  I could change the house, relocate.  But there are far too many emotional connections, and a few financial obstacles to changing locations.

That’s where my physical “self” resides.  But my cognitive self has many dwellings.  Some healthy, some unhealthy. My physical dwelling, my house, is as secure as I can make it.  Windows and doors have locks.  There is a security system, and that includes smoke alarms.  All the electrical systems have multiple breakers.  I feel safe in the dark!  At least inside.  Outside, the coyotes cry nightly, sending a negative thrill up my spine.

My cognitive dwelling is not so easily protected.  I often tremble in the twilight of suspicions and prickly past encounters, or sluggish under the muck of past stupidities.  I feel threatened by the threats I can’t see and what is lurking in the unseen future.

I feel secure in my house, where I live.  I must be vigilant in developing the places where I dwell constantly.  It is the sum of my choices that created and sustains the “safety” of my safe house.  My choices also create where my mind dwells.  I choose.  So do you.

Here is a current, but constantly adjusting, list of where I choose not to dwell and where I choose to dwell:

I will not dwell on past failures or embarrassments or victories

I will not dwell in false contentment                                                  

I will not dwell in the status quo

I will not dwell in religious activities.

I will not dwell in selfish dreams, self-fulfillment.

I will not dwell in anger or revenge

I will not dwell in suspicion

I will not dwell in emotional pain

I will not dwell in hatred

I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever

I will dwell in the exploration of Creation

I will dwell in the adventure of the discovery of truth

I will dwell in the state of becoming, Divine-fulfillment

I will dwell in generosity

I will dwell in Biblical hope

I will dwell in Kingdom servitude

I will dwell in the discipline of forgiveness

I will dwell in the wonder of Godly love

I will dwell in the confidence of ultimate victory

We choose to dwell either facing the wonders of the Garden of Eden or in the throes of the Curse that lay about outside the Garden.

Surely goodness and mercy and unfailing love shall follow me all the days of my life, And I shall dwell forever [throughout all my days] in the house and in the presence of the LORD. (Psalm 23:6, Amplified Bible)

P.S. You may find the change where you dwell to be bewildering and difficult.  I did, and sometimes still do.  Find a group of Believers who are transparent in their “dwellings” and join them.  Also, find a professional Bible-based counselor.  I did, and it helped.

Photo – The four windows in the upper left are the ones in the apartment Jan and I moved into for our first home. It is on the campus of New Orleans Baptist Seminary.