The point was raised today that in today's church, there is often a focus on the giving of "testimonies," and that the testimonies are expected to go like this:
"I once was lost, but now I'm found...and now I'm fine."
But life doesn't work that way. And so those of us who hear such testimonies and believe them and put stock in them find ourselves trying to match them--and failing. And when we fail we hide, and when we feel the need to hide, we feel ashamed. So there has been created, rather than a culture of love and hope, a culture of falsehood and dishonesty. It isn't good.
So here was the point:
It was never about perfection. It was always about relationship. When will we stop making it about perfection?
She said that when she was young, she heard a preacher say that "God helps those who help themselves." And at the time, being young, and "not knowing Genesis from Revelation," she thought, "well, it must be true, because he's old." But then when she grew older and studied for herself, she realized that there's no Biblical basis for that kind of thinking at all. Instead, there is a common theme of God helping those who are unable to help themselves--and that's all of us.
This reminded me of a whitewater rafting trip I took a long time ago, when I was seventeen. There was a flash flood on the river, and I and several others were thrown from the raft and nearly drowned. So here I'll start copying from what I wrote down in my notebook toward the end of church. (Excuse the melodrama. It happens more when I'm writing by hand and am feeling emotional at the time. Reliving this rafting thing brings back the residual PTSD stuff that I've still got going on sometimes.)
This reminds me of the rafting trip: this "God doesn't help those who help themselves! He doesn't make us pick ourselves up and climb, swim, crawl back! He helps those who cannot help themselves: all of us. So, the rafting: I fell out of the boat, off the wagon, into the dirty raging water, and I sank and I let it pull me down into its tumultuous, dark depths. I did not call out for help. I did not cry out to God. I did not even think to. I tried to swim against it on my own, and I could not. I could make no progress. I could not avoid the hidden snags and currents that repeatedly pulled me under. I did not know where I was or where I was headed or whether I would ever be able to snatch another breath of clean air again.
Still, in my stubborn and fearful silence, I was protected. In the midst of the flash-flooded, filthy, debris-filled torrent into which I had fallen, I was protected. I was not driven into an inescapable crevice [as commonly happens in such scenarios]. I did not dash my foot against a stone. [The whole time, the only things I touched were the things I was holding and the raft.] I did not run out of air, or time.
And when I finally realized my utter powerlessness and lack of direction, and when I finally saw that my death was literally inches and moments away, and I accepted it and asked for help, for breath, for direction, they were given to me. Instantly. I knew where to go and kicked up into the air with all my strength. And at the surface, still in the river, I was on the edge of the exact thing I needed: an eddy in the current, and a rock to which I could--just barely--cling.
And here it comes in again: help when we cannot help ourselves. No more than we can handle.
Treading water there, barely clinging to a sheer cliff face, I saw no help coming. I saw only rafts rescuing others--all too far out of range to help me. I was quite literally steadying my breath and mentally preparing myself to swim out to the only help I could see--which would certainly have meant my death--when a raft--the last raft--sailed around the bend in the river and pulled me in, and carried me to safety.
Of the four of us that fell in on a river that was so flooded that it was no longer legal to raft, in a rapid that, though it should have been a class 3, was now above a class 5, in water that looked like chocolate milk and ran full of propane tanks and tree limbs and coolers and, further down the river, power lines, none of us was injured. Though we all suffered from PTSD, not one of us was trapped beneath an undercut rock. Not one of us suffered a scratch. Though we were warned that we probably would, not one of us contracted a single disease from that filthy, sixty-degree water.
People die on the Gauley river fairly regularly, even under normal conditions.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
On clarity, and waiting.
This is most excellent, and it needs to be shared. (Shared with me by Anna.)
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Here, now, open.
So I had that weepy-and-intense religious experience the other night, and then not much. I've thought about it some. I still have a hard time getting the whole relationship thing. I can barely have relationships with people--and now you're asking me to have one with some invisible, uncontainable, indefinable higher being? Yeah. I'll get right on that.
Tonight I was walking Miley, and talking to her about how I was sorry but I couldn't walk in the grass in the rain because I was wearing decidedly not-waterproof boots, and then I realized that if I consider myself a Christian and I can talk to a dog, it's stupid for me to go around telling myself I have nothing to say to God. So. "I don't really feel like I have anything to say to you, but I guess if I can talk to Miley, I don't really have any good excuse not to talk to you." And on from there.
Then, as I approached our driveway, I suddenly remembered that almost every single night for months I have walked Miley and missed having someone to talk to. That's sort of new. I've almost always enjoyed the peace and quiet of walks, and definitely not wished for conversational company. In fact, I have often discouraged other people from walking with me.
It used to be that my prayer time, when I had prayer time, was in the shower. Not particularly for any reason I could discern except that people tend to be more emotional when they're relaxed, and hot water is relaxing, and I knew no one was going to bother me or see or hear me and so I didn't have to feel so guarded. It's not like I ever planned it.
Before that, during my first, horrible encounter with major depression, when I had no experience and no one I trusted and no coping mechanisms to deal with it, late-night walks with Little Bit were my refuge. I never wanted to take them. I fought it tooth and nail. But it was my turn and my parents made me. And most times I ended up stumbling forward, streaming tears, talking to God and begging for a friend or a way out. And eventually, and little by little, I got one. So.
Have you been calling me?
And I'm sorry I haven't picked up. I guess, in my dream, I didn't realize what I was hearing--just like an alarm clock that makes itself a part of the dream until you recognize what you're hearing, and put it together, and rise to consciousness. But I think I'm awake now, and I'm trying really hard to stay awake. Not go sleepwalking through my life. Not wishing I were somewhere else. Not holding my breath. Not barring the door and leaning against it with all my might. I want to be here. Now. Open.
Tonight I was walking Miley, and talking to her about how I was sorry but I couldn't walk in the grass in the rain because I was wearing decidedly not-waterproof boots, and then I realized that if I consider myself a Christian and I can talk to a dog, it's stupid for me to go around telling myself I have nothing to say to God. So. "I don't really feel like I have anything to say to you, but I guess if I can talk to Miley, I don't really have any good excuse not to talk to you." And on from there.
Then, as I approached our driveway, I suddenly remembered that almost every single night for months I have walked Miley and missed having someone to talk to. That's sort of new. I've almost always enjoyed the peace and quiet of walks, and definitely not wished for conversational company. In fact, I have often discouraged other people from walking with me.
It used to be that my prayer time, when I had prayer time, was in the shower. Not particularly for any reason I could discern except that people tend to be more emotional when they're relaxed, and hot water is relaxing, and I knew no one was going to bother me or see or hear me and so I didn't have to feel so guarded. It's not like I ever planned it.
Before that, during my first, horrible encounter with major depression, when I had no experience and no one I trusted and no coping mechanisms to deal with it, late-night walks with Little Bit were my refuge. I never wanted to take them. I fought it tooth and nail. But it was my turn and my parents made me. And most times I ended up stumbling forward, streaming tears, talking to God and begging for a friend or a way out. And eventually, and little by little, I got one. So.
Have you been calling me?
And I'm sorry I haven't picked up. I guess, in my dream, I didn't realize what I was hearing--just like an alarm clock that makes itself a part of the dream until you recognize what you're hearing, and put it together, and rise to consciousness. But I think I'm awake now, and I'm trying really hard to stay awake. Not go sleepwalking through my life. Not wishing I were somewhere else. Not holding my breath. Not barring the door and leaning against it with all my might. I want to be here. Now. Open.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Heart and soul.
I like to think of myself as a Christian, but sometimes I think I'm a bad one, or I think that my views (which tend to be fairly mutable) are too far off center to count. Sometimes this makes me wonder about my ultimate fate--illogical and slightly ridiculous as that may be.
I have realized hundreds of times that speaking or writing negativity causes my internal self or feeling or balance or whatever I would call it to take a negative turn. Possibly someday I will realize this enough times to stop speaking negativity.
I think I spend a lot of time trying to paint my heart so that it looks like the heart of God, or looks the way I imagine God's might look. Pure and loving and forgiving, respectful, wise. Obviously this doesn't work. I am not God. I am not particularly Godlike. I am probably pretty average as humans go, and "average" on the human scale contains a lot of less-than-awesome stuff. Purity? Forget it. You can listen to me talk for a day and cross that one off. Loving? On a "God" scale that would have to entail perfect loving, and... no. Wisdom is especially laughable. Sometimes I think I'm doing pretty well, and then I end up in the presence of another human, who is by definition fallible, who makes me look like a petulant child. And then I remember.
I am a petulant child. I guess we all are in our own ways (or at least it comforts me to think so, in a misery-loves-company kind of way), and that isn't such a terrible thing. He said "suffer the little children to come unto me," didn't he? And there's a verse in Mattew (18:3) which, though it differs across translations, shares this sentiment in all: that in order to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must be like children.
Almost any verse in that book is up for debate. People make what they will of the text, for good or ill. In my mind though, a child is a person who can be taught. A child is a person who is growing. A child is, generally speaking, a person with an open heart.
I'm making a little bit of jump here, and I apologize, but there's a stronger connection in my mind than on paper. I have felt for a while that tears are the great equalizer of humanity. That, as I put it here or in a paper journal, "only children weep." Most of adulthood is little more than a constructed wall and a facade of control that we put ourselves behind because doing so is easier than knowing ourselves or one another. It is easier for me to pretend that everything is simple and straightforward than it is for me to really look at who I am. It is easier for you not to know me, either. But when we weep we relinquish our control and we drop our walls, and we allow ourselves to be exposed as the fragile children that we all are. We admit that the world touches us. We admit, not only that we can be hurt, but that we are. I think it can be a very powerful thing.
Back to the heart metaphor: it is gradually coming to my attention that perhaps my fear of asking (read: praying) for things for me stems from the fact that when I mess with shit, I mess shit up. Thus I fear that asking for things in some way constitutes "messing with the plan," and will therefore cause mass chaos and high levels of regret. Anna tells a story occasionally about a friend who did something and then worried aloud that it would screw up her life, which prompted the (somewhat snarky) reply of "Wow, you must be really powerful if you can mess up The Plan." A week after hearing this story for the second or third time, the idea that it maybe could possibly apply to my habits seems to have trickled down into my brain. It now occurs to me that maybe the reason I mess up when I try to force things to happen is that I am not, in fact, God.* And that maybe, praying for something is not quite the same thing as, for instance, trying to stick my hand into a running car engine and bend it to my will, or trying to make six different things happen at the same time.
Back again to the heart metaphor, hopefully this time in a way that makes more sense: usually it takes a lot of repetition for me to truly internalize a eureka moment, so I don't know whether this will stick this time, but I am (for tonight) starting to see that perhaps acrylics are not the best solution for my heart problem. I still get irrationally angry. I still don't know who I am. I still tend to think that my viewpoint is the only viewpoint, and that I am (for all practical intents and purposes) the only person in existence. Even the best paintbrush can only do so much. So I am, tonight, seeing that maybe the way to make my heart look like His is to give up. Stop standing over here and looking over there and carefully applying paint to any place where it may have flaked off since yesterday, and allow actual contact instead. I am not good at letting my guard down. I am not good at Love Close Up. I am not good at allowing myself to feel things. But I am learning.
It takes a lot of effort for me not to apologize for the overtly religious nature of this post, but I am nevertheless choosing not to. If you don't believe in God, I am saddened by that, but that's your deal. If you are turned off by the hatred and judgment that Christianity has been and often is used to justify, then I understand, and again am deeply saddened. If you believe that God is the energy force that connects all living things, I get that too. I feel the same way sometimes. I don't know who or what God is. I don't know if any of us have all the answers. I hope that, as the Bible and Torah say (In Deuteronomy 4), if anyone truly seeks God, they will find him. I hope we are all given a chance to choose after the veil of this life is lifted. But I don't know the answers, and I am no judge. I just believe what I believe.
*Apparently this is big news to me.
I have realized hundreds of times that speaking or writing negativity causes my internal self or feeling or balance or whatever I would call it to take a negative turn. Possibly someday I will realize this enough times to stop speaking negativity.
I think I spend a lot of time trying to paint my heart so that it looks like the heart of God, or looks the way I imagine God's might look. Pure and loving and forgiving, respectful, wise. Obviously this doesn't work. I am not God. I am not particularly Godlike. I am probably pretty average as humans go, and "average" on the human scale contains a lot of less-than-awesome stuff. Purity? Forget it. You can listen to me talk for a day and cross that one off. Loving? On a "God" scale that would have to entail perfect loving, and... no. Wisdom is especially laughable. Sometimes I think I'm doing pretty well, and then I end up in the presence of another human, who is by definition fallible, who makes me look like a petulant child. And then I remember.
I am a petulant child. I guess we all are in our own ways (or at least it comforts me to think so, in a misery-loves-company kind of way), and that isn't such a terrible thing. He said "suffer the little children to come unto me," didn't he? And there's a verse in Mattew (18:3) which, though it differs across translations, shares this sentiment in all: that in order to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must be like children.
Almost any verse in that book is up for debate. People make what they will of the text, for good or ill. In my mind though, a child is a person who can be taught. A child is a person who is growing. A child is, generally speaking, a person with an open heart.
I'm making a little bit of jump here, and I apologize, but there's a stronger connection in my mind than on paper. I have felt for a while that tears are the great equalizer of humanity. That, as I put it here or in a paper journal, "only children weep." Most of adulthood is little more than a constructed wall and a facade of control that we put ourselves behind because doing so is easier than knowing ourselves or one another. It is easier for me to pretend that everything is simple and straightforward than it is for me to really look at who I am. It is easier for you not to know me, either. But when we weep we relinquish our control and we drop our walls, and we allow ourselves to be exposed as the fragile children that we all are. We admit that the world touches us. We admit, not only that we can be hurt, but that we are. I think it can be a very powerful thing.
Back to the heart metaphor: it is gradually coming to my attention that perhaps my fear of asking (read: praying) for things for me stems from the fact that when I mess with shit, I mess shit up. Thus I fear that asking for things in some way constitutes "messing with the plan," and will therefore cause mass chaos and high levels of regret. Anna tells a story occasionally about a friend who did something and then worried aloud that it would screw up her life, which prompted the (somewhat snarky) reply of "Wow, you must be really powerful if you can mess up The Plan." A week after hearing this story for the second or third time, the idea that it maybe could possibly apply to my habits seems to have trickled down into my brain. It now occurs to me that maybe the reason I mess up when I try to force things to happen is that I am not, in fact, God.* And that maybe, praying for something is not quite the same thing as, for instance, trying to stick my hand into a running car engine and bend it to my will, or trying to make six different things happen at the same time.
Back again to the heart metaphor, hopefully this time in a way that makes more sense: usually it takes a lot of repetition for me to truly internalize a eureka moment, so I don't know whether this will stick this time, but I am (for tonight) starting to see that perhaps acrylics are not the best solution for my heart problem. I still get irrationally angry. I still don't know who I am. I still tend to think that my viewpoint is the only viewpoint, and that I am (for all practical intents and purposes) the only person in existence. Even the best paintbrush can only do so much. So I am, tonight, seeing that maybe the way to make my heart look like His is to give up. Stop standing over here and looking over there and carefully applying paint to any place where it may have flaked off since yesterday, and allow actual contact instead. I am not good at letting my guard down. I am not good at Love Close Up. I am not good at allowing myself to feel things. But I am learning.
It takes a lot of effort for me not to apologize for the overtly religious nature of this post, but I am nevertheless choosing not to. If you don't believe in God, I am saddened by that, but that's your deal. If you are turned off by the hatred and judgment that Christianity has been and often is used to justify, then I understand, and again am deeply saddened. If you believe that God is the energy force that connects all living things, I get that too. I feel the same way sometimes. I don't know who or what God is. I don't know if any of us have all the answers. I hope that, as the Bible and Torah say (In Deuteronomy 4), if anyone truly seeks God, they will find him. I hope we are all given a chance to choose after the veil of this life is lifted. But I don't know the answers, and I am no judge. I just believe what I believe.
*Apparently this is big news to me.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
I am exhausted,
but I am waiting up for the eclipse to hit its stride. It's looking like a crescent moon at the moment. This is one of those things that I always feel like I should get really excited for, but don't actually get all that excited for. I mean, I'd kind of like to see it, but the super slow motion and the dull red light generally end up feeling pretty anticlimactic to me. That, and the fact that I still don't have a camera that can get decent shots of it. One of these days I'm going to have to give in and get a DSR.
I have really been doing a lot of snow boot shopping lately, and I am really getting sick of it. The Sorel Tivoli boots came in the mail today, and they are narrow. And I have wide feet. The situation has been improved by the wearing of stockings and the replacement of the (quite thick) Sorel inserts with thinner ones, but I'm still not 100% decided about keeping them. So I've been looking for emergency backups. Here's a possibility, though I'm not sure about wedge heels in snow boots, or in general. Who the crap makes snow boots with heels?
I spent some time this morning/afternoon working with one of my aunts. She shared with me two excerpts from books that she has read. The first is by Melody Beattie, and I didn't catch the originator of the second, though it is often mistakenly attributed to Nelson Mandela. Bold font obviously mine.
"Say thank you until you mean it.
Thank God, life, and the universe for everyone and everything sent your way.
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. It turns problems into gifts, failures into successes, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. It can turn an existence into a real life, and disconnected situations into important and beneficial lessons. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.
Gratitude makes things right.
Gratitude turns negative energy into positive energy. There is no situation or circumstance so small or large that it is not susceptible to gratitude's power. We can start with who we are and what we have today, apply gratitude, then let it work its magic.
Say thank you until you mean it. If you say it long enough, you will believe it."
(Disclaimer: I can't say that I completely agree that one should be thankful for everything, but I do think that in every situation, there is something to be thankful for. And while I don't necessarily think that gratitude will instantly fix every problem, I do believe that it saved my life.)
[Going to check on the eclipse*.]
[It now looks like a very fuzzy crescent with a very faint, greyish-red tinge. This might be due to some thin clouds in the way, but it's hard to tell for sure. It isn't a very clear night out here though.]
Second, not-Nelson-Mandela quote:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us--it is in everyone. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Another note: Chloe parked the car in a somewhat unwise spot this evening, and got sideswiped. The car? My car. This is the second time in just over a week that someone has hit my car while it wasn't moving. PSA, everybody: don't buy a gd navy blue car. Surprisingly enough, it tends to blend in with the navy blue nighttime. Crazy, right?
Lastly, I really want these boots. I want them so bad. They come in navy blue! How often does that happen? I think possibly I should be banned from looking up boots online for a while.
*I am ashamed and a little bit horrified to admit that when I say the word "eclipse**," I think of the Twilight series.
**Oh God, I capitalized it.
I have really been doing a lot of snow boot shopping lately, and I am really getting sick of it. The Sorel Tivoli boots came in the mail today, and they are narrow. And I have wide feet. The situation has been improved by the wearing of stockings and the replacement of the (quite thick) Sorel inserts with thinner ones, but I'm still not 100% decided about keeping them. So I've been looking for emergency backups. Here's a possibility, though I'm not sure about wedge heels in snow boots, or in general. Who the crap makes snow boots with heels?
I spent some time this morning/afternoon working with one of my aunts. She shared with me two excerpts from books that she has read. The first is by Melody Beattie, and I didn't catch the originator of the second, though it is often mistakenly attributed to Nelson Mandela. Bold font obviously mine.
"Say thank you until you mean it.
Thank God, life, and the universe for everyone and everything sent your way.
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. It turns problems into gifts, failures into successes, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. It can turn an existence into a real life, and disconnected situations into important and beneficial lessons. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.
Gratitude makes things right.
Gratitude turns negative energy into positive energy. There is no situation or circumstance so small or large that it is not susceptible to gratitude's power. We can start with who we are and what we have today, apply gratitude, then let it work its magic.
Say thank you until you mean it. If you say it long enough, you will believe it."
(Disclaimer: I can't say that I completely agree that one should be thankful for everything, but I do think that in every situation, there is something to be thankful for. And while I don't necessarily think that gratitude will instantly fix every problem, I do believe that it saved my life.)
[Going to check on the eclipse*.]
[It now looks like a very fuzzy crescent with a very faint, greyish-red tinge. This might be due to some thin clouds in the way, but it's hard to tell for sure. It isn't a very clear night out here though.]
Second, not-Nelson-Mandela quote:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us--it is in everyone. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Another note: Chloe parked the car in a somewhat unwise spot this evening, and got sideswiped. The car? My car. This is the second time in just over a week that someone has hit my car while it wasn't moving. PSA, everybody: don't buy a gd navy blue car. Surprisingly enough, it tends to blend in with the navy blue nighttime. Crazy, right?
Lastly, I really want these boots. I want them so bad. They come in navy blue! How often does that happen? I think possibly I should be banned from looking up boots online for a while.
*I am ashamed and a little bit horrified to admit that when I say the word "eclipse**," I think of the Twilight series.
**Oh God, I capitalized it.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Wings
Tonight, after The Sorcerer's Apprentice at the Byrd (which I quite liked, actually*), there was a long, soul-searching conversation (along with rooibos chai tea and turkey-vegetable soup and turkey salad sandwiches--can you tell we've just passed Thanksgiving?) with Anna. I love those. I know I've mentioned this before. I never really know what to say about them, except maybe that I think she's half angel. But maybe we all are, if we will have the eyes to see it. Before she left just now, I was overwhelmed for a few moments with the memory of a children's book that we in Cabin 3 (2?) read to our kids this summer--Nate, Jerian, and I. I don't quite remember the title, but the lesson of the book is to "be the tree God made you to be." To me, largely that means being honest, not only with others, but with myself. Accepting my weaknesses and strengths, without regret, without apology, without shame. Accepting your weaknesses and strengths too, without blame or judgment. It's a very freeing thing.
We also talked about the idea of a homemaker's club--not that we particularly want to be homemakers, but we are interested in the hows of things like making butter and cheese and bread. Or harvesting black walnuts. We still haven't had our nut weekend. Anyway the dreamed-up idea would be to meet regularly, maybe one Saturday a month, and each time learn to make or practice making something different, possibly with occasional field trips thrown in. It sounds rather heavenly to me.
My throat has been sore, and was more so today when I awoke, so today has been spent Christmas shopping online, doing some extremely light straightening up, drinking tea and broth and water, taking a shower, and watching a marathon of Hallmark Channel specials. My mother is of the opinion that this channel is "the only thing worth watching, this time of year," and generally this is pretty okay with me. I just wander in and out of the room showing the movies. Getting a good chunk of the shopping done was a huge weight off my chest, and felt wonderful. Staples has some excellent deals at the moment, in case anyone is interested.
Christmas lights are blooming like spring flowers everywhere I look. Every time I turn around, another lighted tree has popped up from the frozen earth with the speed and delightful surprise of a golden or purple-striped crocus. I love it.
*When it comes to movies, there's a lot to be said for going in with low expectations.
We also talked about the idea of a homemaker's club--not that we particularly want to be homemakers, but we are interested in the hows of things like making butter and cheese and bread. Or harvesting black walnuts. We still haven't had our nut weekend. Anyway the dreamed-up idea would be to meet regularly, maybe one Saturday a month, and each time learn to make or practice making something different, possibly with occasional field trips thrown in. It sounds rather heavenly to me.
My throat has been sore, and was more so today when I awoke, so today has been spent Christmas shopping online, doing some extremely light straightening up, drinking tea and broth and water, taking a shower, and watching a marathon of Hallmark Channel specials. My mother is of the opinion that this channel is "the only thing worth watching, this time of year," and generally this is pretty okay with me. I just wander in and out of the room showing the movies. Getting a good chunk of the shopping done was a huge weight off my chest, and felt wonderful. Staples has some excellent deals at the moment, in case anyone is interested.
Christmas lights are blooming like spring flowers everywhere I look. Every time I turn around, another lighted tree has popped up from the frozen earth with the speed and delightful surprise of a golden or purple-striped crocus. I love it.
*When it comes to movies, there's a lot to be said for going in with low expectations.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Relatedly, I was asked the question today, "what do you do for kicks down in Richmond?"
Not that I've never talked or thought about this before, but as an exercise, I feel like talking/writing about it again. Awewesomee. (Pronounced "ah-weh-weh-so-meh.")
For kicks? Well I'm still trying to climb out of the "come home from work and hide in my bed" post-breakup phase. It's good times. Basically I just try to stay out of my room until it's bedtime, whether that means hanging out with Kelly 24/7, volunteering an afternoon at the RBA, or spending way too much time on my computer--as my mom never fails to point out. In Richmond for kicks I hang out at Kelly's house, go to the movies, read, waste time online, and as I said the other day, belly dance at work when no one is looking.
For kicks in general I often try to get out of Richmond. Not that I don't love my hometown, but most of the people I love, and people are what I love, live in other places. I used to visit David, and may do so again. I am visiting Lindsey. I met up with Chris and Fran and Matt and Beth and Christian in DC. I went to the Camp staff retreat. I'm going to the Festival International. In short, for kicks, I travel as much as I can. This is part of the reason I tend to be so terrified of settling down, esp. having babies, incl. getting married, having pets.
Also for kicks in general I take pictures, and I think about interesting/awesome things, such as dinosaurs, water, trees, linguistics, psychology, and etymology. Stuff like "what would happen if velociraptors attacked?" (Actually though I think about dinosaurs pretty rarely. I mostly just comment on their awesomeness when I see them around.) More often, where did that word come from? How would that have evolved through changes in language use? Why do we say things that, objectively speaking, make no (or little) sense--such as "I've gotta go," or "I have got to go." I possess obtained to go? Interesting...
For kicks in the summer, or when I can get to Camp, omg, I go caving. I go caving and I swim I swim I swim in 100% not-chlorinated water, and I climb mountains, and I steer canoes downstream, and I look at stars, and I build campfires and I paint rocks and I wash dishes and I try to teach kids, and sometimes other counselors too, that they matter, and that people love them, and that God loves them. And that they matter. And that things can be hard, but life can still be good. And I try to remember those things myself.
Not that I've never talked or thought about this before, but as an exercise, I feel like talking/writing about it again. Awewesomee. (Pronounced "ah-weh-weh-so-meh.")
For kicks? Well I'm still trying to climb out of the "come home from work and hide in my bed" post-breakup phase. It's good times. Basically I just try to stay out of my room until it's bedtime, whether that means hanging out with Kelly 24/7, volunteering an afternoon at the RBA, or spending way too much time on my computer--as my mom never fails to point out. In Richmond for kicks I hang out at Kelly's house, go to the movies, read, waste time online, and as I said the other day, belly dance at work when no one is looking.
For kicks in general I often try to get out of Richmond. Not that I don't love my hometown, but most of the people I love, and people are what I love, live in other places. I used to visit David, and may do so again. I am visiting Lindsey. I met up with Chris and Fran and Matt and Beth and Christian in DC. I went to the Camp staff retreat. I'm going to the Festival International. In short, for kicks, I travel as much as I can. This is part of the reason I tend to be so terrified of settling down, esp. having babies, incl. getting married, having pets.
Also for kicks in general I take pictures, and I think about interesting/awesome things, such as dinosaurs, water, trees, linguistics, psychology, and etymology. Stuff like "what would happen if velociraptors attacked?" (Actually though I think about dinosaurs pretty rarely. I mostly just comment on their awesomeness when I see them around.) More often, where did that word come from? How would that have evolved through changes in language use? Why do we say things that, objectively speaking, make no (or little) sense--such as "I've gotta go," or "I have got to go." I possess obtained to go? Interesting...
For kicks in the summer, or when I can get to Camp, omg, I go caving. I go caving and I swim I swim I swim in 100% not-chlorinated water, and I climb mountains, and I steer canoes downstream, and I look at stars, and I build campfires and I paint rocks and I wash dishes and I try to teach kids, and sometimes other counselors too, that they matter, and that people love them, and that God loves them. And that they matter. And that things can be hard, but life can still be good. And I try to remember those things myself.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Inertia
Why is everything better when we're moving? Humans were made to move. We think better, breathe better, function better when we're in motion...but we resist it. Everything in our world is designed to keep us still. We travel by sitting in cars or boats or trains or planes. We entertain ourselves by sitting still and watching pictures move, or by sitting still and reading, or by sitting and talking.
I have noticed over the years and when I am moving as I talk, the conversation moves. It has a purpose, a point, a goal. It gets somewhere. When I move my body takes over and my mind takes as much of a backseat as it will stand. And that's great, because when it comes down to the basics of living, my mind has no clue as to what it's doing. My body understands, my body knows. My mind screws everything up. And that makes sense, because out of three brains, two are concerned with survival. From one (reptilian) to two (mammalian) to three (neocortex), the sections are increasingly superfluous. Ego, id, superego. Three's a crowd, right? Let's trash the superego. It screws everything up. I want to move, but superego (illogically, because everything in humanity is perverted somehow) says no, sit, stew, mull, contemplate. ROT. Body says move, and move I should. Superego says no. It's nice to dream neocortex, but I'd rather be sane.
I know this probably makes no sense. I probably won't be able to understand it when I read it later. But I need to move! I want to move! I feel so much better when I move! But something in me keeps me still. I throw up walls all around myself until I can't move at all, can't breathe, can't function. Even walking destabilizes them a little, and that is GOOD. So maybe the thing in me that keeps me still is another wall. Is protecting all the protections I've built up to entomb myself inside my own mind. Awesome. I want a sledgehammer for my birthday.
Other: I was babysitting for Hartley and Lael (both of whom I love) tonight, and Chloe came at 8:30 to take over, but I stayed to hang out with her. And I guess I'm glad I did, because even though we were reading our own books, we were sitting together, being together and talking occasionally. And I got to spend some time with H and L when they got home. And after we left their house I decided to walk home, and then to walk around the neighborhood a little while before coming inside. I just needed the motion. I needed the air. I needed the stars, but they are hidden tonight, behind a mask of clouds, which are illuminated by the pink-orange lights of the city. My mom always says the color is pretty, but it looks like vomit to me. I can't bring myself to appreciate the light pollution, and with the sky overcast it makes me claustrophobic. Sometimes it's hard to stand living in a place where you can't see the stars. It makes me ache for Jimmy and Missy's pond at night.
My point though was that I missed my chance to call David, about which I am feeling a little disappointed and a little guilty. I am just sorry, because he texted earlier and asked if I wanted to talk, and I did! But I asked if he would wait a while because I was spending time with Chloe. But then Lael and Hartley came back later than I thought, and I had forgotten that we always talk so long, and then I couldn't stand the thought of going inside or talking to anyone before I had walked a little, breathed a little, been alone with the air and winter and God a little. And then he texted me again, and said he needed to go to sleep, and I felt like the worst kind of self-centered little girl. It isn't okay for me to put him (or anyone) off like that. I am so sorry.
I wish things were simpler. It's so easy to romanticize nature, though I know it is often a cruel, eat-or-be-eaten world. Still, that's a simple rule. Sometimes I think I'd gladly sacrifice this weak and problem-riddled swiss cheese homo sapien brain for one that made more sense. For one that made any sense.
To quote "O Brother, Where Art Thou?,"
It's a fool that looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart.
I have noticed over the years and when I am moving as I talk, the conversation moves. It has a purpose, a point, a goal. It gets somewhere. When I move my body takes over and my mind takes as much of a backseat as it will stand. And that's great, because when it comes down to the basics of living, my mind has no clue as to what it's doing. My body understands, my body knows. My mind screws everything up. And that makes sense, because out of three brains, two are concerned with survival. From one (reptilian) to two (mammalian) to three (neocortex), the sections are increasingly superfluous. Ego, id, superego. Three's a crowd, right? Let's trash the superego. It screws everything up. I want to move, but superego (illogically, because everything in humanity is perverted somehow) says no, sit, stew, mull, contemplate. ROT. Body says move, and move I should. Superego says no. It's nice to dream neocortex, but I'd rather be sane.
I know this probably makes no sense. I probably won't be able to understand it when I read it later. But I need to move! I want to move! I feel so much better when I move! But something in me keeps me still. I throw up walls all around myself until I can't move at all, can't breathe, can't function. Even walking destabilizes them a little, and that is GOOD. So maybe the thing in me that keeps me still is another wall. Is protecting all the protections I've built up to entomb myself inside my own mind. Awesome. I want a sledgehammer for my birthday.
Other: I was babysitting for Hartley and Lael (both of whom I love) tonight, and Chloe came at 8:30 to take over, but I stayed to hang out with her. And I guess I'm glad I did, because even though we were reading our own books, we were sitting together, being together and talking occasionally. And I got to spend some time with H and L when they got home. And after we left their house I decided to walk home, and then to walk around the neighborhood a little while before coming inside. I just needed the motion. I needed the air. I needed the stars, but they are hidden tonight, behind a mask of clouds, which are illuminated by the pink-orange lights of the city. My mom always says the color is pretty, but it looks like vomit to me. I can't bring myself to appreciate the light pollution, and with the sky overcast it makes me claustrophobic. Sometimes it's hard to stand living in a place where you can't see the stars. It makes me ache for Jimmy and Missy's pond at night.
My point though was that I missed my chance to call David, about which I am feeling a little disappointed and a little guilty. I am just sorry, because he texted earlier and asked if I wanted to talk, and I did! But I asked if he would wait a while because I was spending time with Chloe. But then Lael and Hartley came back later than I thought, and I had forgotten that we always talk so long, and then I couldn't stand the thought of going inside or talking to anyone before I had walked a little, breathed a little, been alone with the air and winter and God a little. And then he texted me again, and said he needed to go to sleep, and I felt like the worst kind of self-centered little girl. It isn't okay for me to put him (or anyone) off like that. I am so sorry.
I wish things were simpler. It's so easy to romanticize nature, though I know it is often a cruel, eat-or-be-eaten world. Still, that's a simple rule. Sometimes I think I'd gladly sacrifice this weak and problem-riddled swiss cheese homo sapien brain for one that made more sense. For one that made any sense.
To quote "O Brother, Where Art Thou?,"
It's a fool that looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Liddell* River / God is in the rain**
The stream sweeps joyfully past
after the storm, barely contained
in its banks. It rushes by,
full and lithe,
leaping to leap
and running to run,
fat and swift and happy.
I can hear it singing:
"God made me for a purpose,
but He also made me fast.
When I run,
I feel his pleasure."
*Eric Liddell
**From V For Vendetta, the movie. (Possibly the graphic novel as well, but I have no idea.)
after the storm, barely contained
in its banks. It rushes by,
full and lithe,
leaping to leap
and running to run,
fat and swift and happy.
I can hear it singing:
"God made me for a purpose,
but He also made me fast.
When I run,
I feel his pleasure."
*Eric Liddell
**From V For Vendetta, the movie. (Possibly the graphic novel as well, but I have no idea.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)