My Idea, My Friend

Adam McHugh writes in his book Introverts in the Church, "Introverts (especially those who score high in the 'thinking' category of the Myers-Briggs) treat our ideas like friends, devoting the same energy and time to them.  Likewise, we consider books and authors as mentors, or as midwives to our most profound ideas."

I've felt this way my whole life.

My ideas and I have a relationship of sorts.  You might find that weird (or maybe you're secretly saying, me too!).  I remember, even as a child, climbing to the top of a corkscrew willow tree in my backyard and spending hours with my thoughts.  Silence is never silent when my brain is present.  There's a give and take that happens in the wide open places of my mind--a conversation of sorts.  It's almost as if my ideas are an entity of their own, surprising even me as they take shape. 

I can never relate when people talk about being bored by too much alone time, like hating to drive long distances all alone.  I love any time that I get to spend with my ideas; the longer the time the better the conversation.

Even if some think so, I'm not talking about reclusive and neurotic behavior.  I love a good conversation with another person too.  But, as an Introvert, I am energized and refreshed from the inside out.  It's how I can drive alone for six hours and feel energized when I arrive at my destination, or sit in a class for hours on end and not need to get up for a break.  I feel most centered, most alive, when my ideas and I get to spend time together...good quality time. 

It's the balance that is hard to find in life.  Later in the same paragraph, McHugh writes "While extroverts may gauge their day by the quality of interactions and experiences they had, introverts often gauge their day by the thoughts and reflections they had."  There are so many relationships vying for time and attention, the invisible ones in my head can be the easiest to ignore.  But then I find myself feeling shallow and unimaginative, just going through the repetition of every day.  

I can't abandon life and ministry for a monastery (however tempting it seems), but I do need to make space in life for my ideas to ground me in what it all means.  Without it I am an empty shell, lacking the best part of me to share with the world.

I don't have a favorite tree to climb anymore and I have a three-year-old running around constantly, but in the moments where I retreat to a coffee shop to write, and watch people, you'll see the light slowly come back to my face.  It's where my ideas and I have a reunion of sorts and we are all better for having spent time with one another.