Chris Brogan’s latest newsletter this week has me thinking about fit.

(And if you haven’t subscribed to his newsletter, I highly recommend it. I know what you’re thinking–everyone recommends Chris Brogan.  There’s a reason for that.)

At any rate, Chris was talking about not fitting in anywhere, and how that’s probably a good thing.  So if you’re an enneagram 4, and the defining characteristic of your personality is feeling like you don’t fit in, it was definitely going to speak to you.  Loudly.

"Rocket-Bye Baby" (R) Warner Brothers 1956

But as I turned the ideas over in my head a bit, I started thinking about fit in a different way.  In a very healthy way, I stopped singing my personal song of lament about being the switched-at-birth Martian baby in my family.

Instead of thinking about how I’ve always had a hard time fitting in, I started thinking about the relationships, priorities, and activities in my life and how they fit together.  Or more importantly, where they don’t fit well.

"quilt squares" courtesy bewinca on sxc

If my life is a quilt, what doesn’t fit the pattern?  And do those pieces need trimming to fit better, or do they just need to return to the scrap bag?

There must be something in the air this week, because Liz Strauss had an excellent post covering similar ground earlier this week.  Liz’ post is about finding proper fit in working relationships, and the process that helps you get to a better fit.

So what about you?  We talked a little last week about the big thing you still need to let go of to move on.

What doesn’t need to be ditched, but could use some massaging?

How do you figure out whether or not someone or something is going to click neatly into place in your life?

How long does it take you to accept and address the stuff that doesn’t fit?

"jump for joy" courtesy susiet on SXC

I like people.

In my twenties and younger, that wasn’t so much the case.  But as with all things, my opinion of and affection for my fellow man is being renewed.

In practical application, that renewal looks a lot more like a fractal than a straight line running from “all people suck” to “I have effectively become Mother Teresa.”   I still have the occasional “all people suck” day.

So in thinking about the fact that I like people, I figured I would share a few people I have recently discovered that I like online.  (There are other people whom I’ve liked for a long time.  They’re not in this post.  Sorry.)

Rachel Held Evans – Rachel is from the town in Tennessee where the Scopes Monkey Trial happened.  She wrote a book about growing up there, and working out some of the big questions of life and faith in a place where questions are not historically appreciated.  Plus, she’s super nice and we have a mutual Twitter friendship based on envy of someone else.

Kristin T. writes Halfway to Normal.  We share a lot of common interests: writing, faith, culture, life in the midwest, the centrality of relationships to… well, basically everything.

Maggie dear of OkayFineDammit.com is an awesome writer, mom and Batman-esque fighter against the injustice of domestic violence.  She’s currently undergoing a transformative experience of her own, which has been pretty amazing to watch.  Peace be da journey, Maggie.

Molly writes The Girl in the Middle.  Like me, she’s a marketing professional who lives near Louisville, Kentucky.  Unlike me, she actually cares about what she eats.   I’m not a foodie–I’ll eat anything you set in front of me that is marginally edible.

We haven’t included any guys yet, so I should also mention that I really like Charles (who always lets me know what he thinks about what I think) and who is going to be attending culinary school thanks to the Food Network (how cool is that?), Pastor Jon, and Matthew Paul Turner, who keeps me in stitches.  Also, coworker Dave who lets me chill out in his jazz lounge when I get all stressy from work related crazyness.

So who do you like?

[Wherein I write about Lent without really writing about Lent.]

In the French house, we are old school reality television junkies from way back.  We watched the first season of Survivor and American Idol, and more recently we’ve found ourselves getting sucked into Undercover Boss, The Biggest Loser and Extreme Home Makeover.

While I understand the appeal of these shows, I wonder if they don’t contribute to the culture of wishful thinking that permeates American society.   The idea that some television show will pluck you out of obscurity and fix the problems in your home, your waistline, and your career is understandably attractive.

img "couch potato" courtesy MJimages on sxc

But when it comes to the problems in your life, dreaming of rescue isn’t going to get you any closer to resolution.

I’m not discounting the role of providence and serendipity in personal transformation, here.   In fact, quite the opposite. My experience as a veteran daydream believer and semi-professional damsel-in-distress has shown me that those daydreams and rescue fantasies actually distract you from recognizing the real opportunities for change that providence places right in front of you.

We live in a world that is permeated by a presence that wants to see you transformed into a being capable of extreme, radical love and compassion.  Opportunities to fix the broken things in your life are literally everywhere.  And the lengths that we go to in order to avoid seeing and being forced to respond to those opportunities border on the ridiculous.

I try to balance the personal transformation posts here between gentle encouragement and loving kicks in the pants.  Today is a kick in the pants day.

Turn off the television.  Stop fiddling with the stupid car stereo.  Quit sniping about the fact that the restaurant messed up your order again.

Lift up your head.  Look around.  Look for something, while holding an open mind about what that something might be.

The view may take your breath away.  I know it has for me on several occasions lately.

“What do doctors know about the needs of a man’s soul?”  (Anthony Quinn/Don Pedro Aragon, A Walk in the Clouds.)

It was almost a perfect Saturday.  Almost.

I had a lovely dream last night. Woke up early enough that I could visit a local park and do some hiking, then visit Butt Drugs for a cup of coffee and the library afterwards.

But it all sort of fell apart when I went home and spent some time with my family.

There is entirely too much yelling in my family.  There is a snide, sarcastic tone that I hear too often–from all of us, all the way down to the the six-year-old scolding the pug puppy for, well, being a puppy.

“What is wrong with us?” I asked myself.  ”Can’t one of us manage a tiny little bit of patience with the others? Why is every irritation and annoyance justification for an angry meltdown?”

I started thinking about Jesus. Because frankly, I find him and the stuff he said and did fascinating and relevant and… well, I could go on, but let’s finish the blog post, shall we?

I’ve been reading Dallas Willard’s The Divine Conspiracy. I’m not too far into it–it’s dense, heavy stuff, even for me.  But I have been captured by the idea that “the kingdom of heaven” that Jesus insisted was at hand 2,000 years ago is at hand today.   Meaning “available and present.”  As Willard puts it, Jesus’ promise is that we can live an “eternal kind of life” (vita aeterna) now.

It’s gotten me thinking about what an eternal kind of life–the kind of life where things on earth are as it is in heaven–would be like.  What would a person living “in the kingdom of heaven” be like?

You would notice the presence of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control in his/her life and behavior.  All the things that were noticeably absent today.

And Jesus insists that this kind of life is available.  Not in the future.  Not after I’m dead.  Right. NOW.

Available not just to the religious elite, to ascetic monks living in isolation away from the hum and fray and irritating, annoying habits of other people, but to common everyday people.  Available to self-absorbed neurotic enneagram Four drama queens living in affluent middle America.

It sounds kind of … crazy.  Doesn’t it?  But I believe it.  I believe it because I’ve seen it.  It’s been a partial view, “through a glass darkly,” and you know what? If you don’t look at that murky mirror reflection every so often, the same thing happens that would happen if you never looked in a literal mirror.

The reflection gets messier.

I took a look in the murky mirror of my spiritual fruit today, and saw a soul showing signs of neglect.

Once upon a time I thought “cleaning up the reflection” meant rolling up my socks and trying harder.   Working harder at being good.  Waggling a condemnatory finger at my own soul.

I know it’s not that anymore.  A neglected soul needs care, not condemnation.  Like bathing a puppy who spent an hour rolling in crunchy brown leaves and moss and God-knows-what-else in the park, some of the care is enjoyable and some of it is uncomfortable, but in the end, you both feel a lot better.

One of the beautiful things about being a grown-up 37 year old is, I know how to care for my particularly unique soul. I know what things to pursue and apply (and re-apply, as needed).

The tricky part? Actually doing it.

How’s your soul doing?  What do you feed it when it’s looking a little ragged as reflected in your behavior?  Do you know the needs of your soul?

I’m curious, as always.

Like George Costanza, I feel a little bit like my worlds are colliding.

Part of the time, I’m a web marketing geek hanging out in the swanky metropolitan downtown of Louisville, Kentucky.  Which, as everyone knows, is the quirky, offbeat Seattle of the Ohio Valley basin.

And part of the time, I live in scenic, rural Harrison county, Indiana, in a town of 600 people, where the county seat has less than 3,000.

So imagine my surprise yesterday, when I discovered that the talented Rhett and Link of ILoveLocalCommercials.com (you may know them from their painfully honest and epic trailer commercial) had gotten the peanut butter of my rural small town existence ALL UP IN THE CHOCOLATE of my life as an internet marketer.

Oh, HELL to the yes, I have one.

Like the folks in the commercial, I love Butt Drugs.  In fact, I have a t-shirt to prove it.

And a ball cap.  Which I wore at Pubcon in 2008 and BlogWorldExpo in 2009.

For those who have never graced scenic southern Indiana, Butt Drugs is located across the street from the public library.  I’ve taken my kids there on several occasions for an ice cream after picking up some summer reads.

The coffee may be cheap ($.35) but it’s almost always fresh and it’s tasty enough for this coffee snob. (Someone, somewhere at Starbucks HQ just had a minor coronary at the thought of someone buying an enjoyable cup of coffee for less than a dollar. Oh, well.)

While I’m gabbing about the collision of my two worlds, I’d also like to compliment the tourism board of my little county.

They’ve done a fabulous job of embracing Facebook as a tool for promoting a small town as a destination.  They post frequently, have struck just the right tone, and they’ve currently got about 1,080 fans.  Considering Destin, Florida–another place I used to call home, and one with a SLIGHTLY bigger tourism draw, aka “the Gulf of Mexico”–currently has only 2,280 fans, that’s not too shabby.

So what about you?  What are the hidden treasures of awesome in your neighborhood?  What ways is synchronicity between the “worlds” of your existence startling and delighting you?  Or for that matter, what cool stuff have you run across in your own journeys on the interwebs?

I really do want to know.