Monday, April 30, 2012

i love this so bad

Seize the day, if you must, but do so gently and never, ever shake it. All days are not alike, and some of them are just not meant for seizing. Some days you wake up with a headache, a dentist's appointment, and a long to-do list. But that's okay. Seize tomorrow instead and today follow the path of least resistance - because deciding not to seize this particular day is also a form of seizing the day, if you follow my drift. Likewise, whoever came up with the bright idea that you should live each day as if it were your last has probably never taken this advice . . . what this cliche fails to address is that the day after your imagined last day quickly arrives and transforms your grand exit into an unmitigated disaster. Now you're chubby, broke, jobless, and have really spooked your cute UPS driver. And you're supposed to live this nightmarish new day as if it's your last. You see where I'm going with this - it gets old very fast. Better advice is to live each year as if it's your last. Pace yourself. Prioritize. Most of all, enjoy the constructive daydreaming it takes to plan your fantasy, because if you don't, you're missing the whole point: Living each day as if it's your last is really about enjoying now. Even if you're not exactly where you want to be yet, there really is a ton of pleasure to be had in stopping to smell the rugosas along the way. Adventure comes with no guarantees or promises. Risk and reward are conjoined twins . . . there are many good reasons not to toss your life up in the air and see how it lands. Just don't let fear be one of them. - Mary South

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

faith

I will gather myself around my faith, for light does the darkness most fear – Jewel

Monday, April 09, 2012

trying

The only wisdom we can hope to acquire
Is the wisdom of humility:  humility is endless. - T. S. Eliot

Monday, April 02, 2012

hope

And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time. - T.S. Eliot

This quote came to mind while I was at an Anglican church service yesterday morning.

I am not near the end of my exploring, but I did feel a resonance here. It has been a long time since I have been to a church service. Weary and burdened by so many disappointing stories, frustrations at church hierarchy and patriarchy, deep sadness and solidarity with so many of my friends who have been bruised by my Christianity, my heart was having trouble sitting in a pew lately. A sort of spiritual depression, an exploration of self and the divine beyond the church walls brought me to many good and interesting places. Also painful ones. Why are churches such difficult places to be?

And then, why do I crave them so?

I entered this church carefully, alone, somewhat familiar with the people and the walls there. Many things brought me to that pew, including disappointment, hurt, listlessness and a bad complexion. Not much hope; more desperation for something meaningful to grab onto on a sunday morning.

The second we began communal prayer I began to cry like a little baby, which was awkward because right after we were to shake hands and share the peace with everybody. This return to this pew and this church and this specific expression of faith, speaking words of utter dependance on Jesus, grace, and love felt so missed by my soul. I felt so relieved, so like I belonged somewhere again, it all felt so familiar and tangible and hopeful. Also so unexpected.

Back again for the first time. I am not sure what the future holds here or where I will end up. But yesterday was a gift that I deeply grateful for.