To Be Known

When the going gets tough or sad or lonely or any sentiment in that general direction, why does my flight instinct always seem to trump the fight one? Sometimes I am just tired of being around people who don't understand me, who don't share my vision or even want to talk about theirs. Sometimes I am just tired and want to breathe and not to feel like showing my true colors is such a relentless upstream battle. Sometimes I just want to feel known more than the instant I come home at the end of every day. Sometimes I wish those around me would share my longing to be connected with them on the most human of levels. Sometimes I want to see with lenses of redemption to trump the stale and the cold. Sometimes I wish that every time and place was appropriate for depth to be revealed...and most times I wish for possessing no concept of appropriate.
Often I hope to be truly free.

Uncovering Truth

Sometimes I just get into these moods where I'm frustrated and hyper-critical about everything and nothing in particular. I've been on this kick lately about people acting fake. It's like I notice it in one person and all of a sudden the whole damn city seems full of phonies to me. Even at church. I take that back....most especially at church. The thing is, I do love people on an individual level. I mean, we're all human and we have pasts and cool stories of redemption and funny quirks and all that stuff. But sometimes in the collective, people just act straight up ridiculous and I just want to shake them and say, "cut the bullshit already!"

And in New York especially I just feel like people can't relax. Everyone's got to put on their cool face and look sharp and speak intellectually and exude whatever it is they think they should be. It can be absolutely exhausting.

Tonight at church, the sermon was about marriage and the man and woman's roles within that context, and I like what he had to say but at the same time felt a little bit discouraged. I don't think that very many people in this city have faith in marriage, and sometimes I'm not sure I do either. I mean, in theory I think I do. But I also think that people are inundated with so many bad messages about marriage (among other things), they're unable to wrap their minds around its goodness. I don't know why that makes me sad, but it does. People here are so hardened. Maybe everyone is, I just think it's here because this is where I happened to land when the scales of idealism finally fell from my eyes.

Being

So on Tuesday I called in sick (which I really was) and was a bit struck by the anxiety/guilt/whatever you wanna call it I felt at the prospect of having nothing to do. I logged into my work e-mail account only to quickly sign off upon realizing that the whole point of taking a sick day is to rest and not work. But what is it that 1.)makes us feel guilty for not being "productive"? and
2) causes anxiety and maybe even a slight loss of self when there is nothing to busy ourselves with? Is it an American thing? A human thing? A cultural/environmental thing? I'm not exactly sure, but it made me think of a couple books by Christian authors that I've read in the past few months. Here's what they had to say about this issue:

"There are many layers to the healing of the soul. One practice that has brought incredible healing is the taking of a Sabbath...I have learned the real issue behind the Sabbath isn't which day of the week it is but how we live all the time.

I decided to start taking one day a week to cease from work. And what I discovered is that I couldn't even do it at first.
I would go into a depression.
By the afternoon I would be so...low.
I realized that my life was all about keeping the adrenaline buzz going and that I was only really happy when I was going all the time. When I stopped to spend a day to remember that I am loved just because I exist, I found out how much of my efforts were about earning something I already have.
Sabbath is taking a day a week to remind myself that i did not make the world and that it will continue to exist without my efforts.
Sabbath is a day when my work is done, even if it isn't.
Sabbath is a day when my job is to enjoy. Period.
Sabbath is a day when I am fully available to myself and those I love most.
Sabbath is a day when I produce nothing.
Sabbath is a day when I remind myself that I am not a machine.
Sabbath is a day when at the end I say, "I didn't do anything today," and I don't add, "And I feel so guilty."
It is so hard to look deep inside yourself. My experience has been that very few people do the long, hard work of the soul.
- Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith

"If I try to hold still, my soul reacts like a feather in the afternoon breeze, flitting from place to place without purpose or direction. Theologians refer to this condition as "ontological lightness," the reality that when I stop "doing" and simply listen to my heart, I am not anchored to anything substantive. I become aware that my very identity is synonymous with activity.
In order to learn who we really are, we must have a place in our lives where we are removed from the materialism, entertainment, diversion, and busyness that the Vanity Fair of our society and culture immerse us in. As we leave these less-wild lovers behind and enter into solitude and silence in our own desert place, the first thing we encounter is not rest, but fear, and a compulsion to return to activity. In The Ascent to Truth, Thomas Merton says,
'We look for rest & if we find it, it becomes intolerable. Incapable of the divine activity which alone can satisfy...fallen man flings himself upon exterior things, not so much for their own sake as for the sake of agitation which keeps his spirit pleasantly numb...[The distraction] diverts us aside from the one thing that can help us to being our ascent to truth...the sense of our own emptiness.'
Brent Curtis & John Eldredge, The Sacred Romance

Today I've eaten breakfast with my roommate, played with my cat, and talked politics and other things with my dad over the phone. It's almost 3:00 on a Saturday afternoon, and I am still sitting in bed in my pajamas. It's a beautiful day, the sun is streaming through my windows and yet I don't feel in any sort of rush to be anywhere or do anything. That, my friends, is a Sabbath well spent.

Stepping Out

I recently settled upon the fact that I work for the weekends.  And now I am coming to terms with the fact that the weekends are just too short of a thing to be working for.  I'm torn between being unchallenged in my current role and being fearful of the stress that comes with added responsibilities.  I've been down that road before, and it was too much and I quit.  Something tells me it's time to stop being such a wuss and just trust that I won't fall apart at the prospect of a challenge.  

I've been reading My Sister's Keeper (Jodi Picoult) and found a bit of hope in these few lines of thought from a dad about his family's trials:

"It seems remarkable that while one of our daughters is leading us into a legal crisis, the other is in the throes of a medical one--but then again, we have known for quite some time that Kate's at the end stages of renal failure...it is Anna, this time, who's thrown us for a loop.  And Yet--like always--you figure it out; you manage to deal with both.  The human capacity for burden is like bamboo--far more flexible then you'd ever believe at first glance." 

Maybe it's time to step out and start thinking of myself more as bamboo rather than a fragile piece of porcelain or a twig that may snap in half at the slightest weight.  Maybe it's time to trust something bigger than myself.    

Happy Anniversary

Today marked my 4 year anniversary of making the big move from Texas to New York City.  4 years...who would have thought?  Certainly not me.  In celebration of this milestone, Kari and I trecked to our old neighborhood (the East Village) to dine at Sidewalk Cafe which was the very first place she took me to eat when I first moved here.  Awww...how romantic (or something like that).  I still remember what I ordered that long ago (a California burger) and what I was wearing (jeans and a sleeveless black shirt).  I'm really good at taking mental snapshots wherever I am, though I do realize it's a bit freakish to remember what you or anyone else was wearing at some random event 10 years ago.  My memory is a superpower, what can I say?

Tonight was the first time either of us have gone back to the East Village since moving out last month.  I love Brooklyn, but I must say we were both surprised by how much we miss the 'hood.  But I guess it makes sense that if you park yourself somewhere for 4 years after making a dramatic move, it's bound to have some sticking power.  It just becomes a part of you somehow.  And that's good.  Missing something is good because it means you invested. 

To finish our evening of celebrating city life we (naturally) watched a couple episodes of Sex & the City.  All hype and touristy crap aside, Manhattan does have a sort of magic about it.  I both love and hate it in the same breath.  At lunch I ate on the roof deck of my office building where I could see the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty while downing my Cheetos and turkey sandwich.  Indeed there is no other place like this on earth.  f

Value

Reflection is an art...that adds value--more like, extracts the value--from minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years and...a lifetime.  I've delved into this art as of late and like what I am finding:  connection.  

Mr. Buckley made us turn in a journal entry every single day for a semester in high school with our high point and low point.  We hated him for it, but really loved him.  He knew the value in the art...of reflection.  

I think that my grandpa may be dying, but I don't know what I feel or if he is really dying. Disconnected because I'm not there and unsure of the closeness of our relationship and unable to deal with the inability of that side of the family to confront these sorts of matters.  I need to reach him in my own way.  I'm just not sure what that is.  I need to think.

My best friend told me today that I won't find a man in New York.  She was halfway sarcastic seeing as those statements are part of her ploy to get me back to Texas.   But it might be kind of true.  I mean, there's gotta be someone I'm into who's not off the market already.  I fear my "type" may not be a breed that flourishes in the big apple.  Not really sure where that leaves me (besides single).  

I walked 8 miles today exploring Brooklyn.  My feet hurt. 

Playground

Tonight my roomate Josh and I took a late night walk to drop Moni off at the train and do a bit of exploring in the 'hood.  We ended up at the playground by my apartment, and for a second I felt like a kid again climbing the monkey bars, going down the slide and attempting (in vain) to do a chin-up.  I always freakin' hated in middle school when chin ups were part of the physical education test.  Umm, hello...some of us have giraffe length arms and have a longer distance to hoist ourselves.  But whatever--I'm over it.  

Anyways, now I'm all excited about this park because it has a basketball court.  Not that I'm a hardcore street baller or anything, but it'd be nice to get out a shoot a few hoops for old times sake.  I think I'll go buy a basketball after work tomorrow.  I love living in Brooklyn cuz it's kinda suburban (for New York, that is) and kinda city.  It's just nice to have space and simple luxuries like a grill and a linen closet.  I've been breathing so much easier this past month.  I don't think I fully realized how uptight I've felt the past four years until I moved.  4 years of not feeling relaxed--that is somethin' else.  People here are just normal folk, ya know.  They grew up here and don't care so much about being in any kind of scene besides whatever action is going on over at the neighbors stoop.  I dig that--just normal stoop folk doin' their normal everyday thing.  I dig feeling more relaxed and being a little bit of a kid again.  Yeah, Brooklyn is a good new era.  

Happenings

Hmmm...lots to say but nothing to write.  This is where I went this weekend:

Montauk=my happy place.  It is beautiful and tranquil and one of the most healing places I know.

This is my new haircut:

I dig it.  Hope you do too.  

And this is my new neighborhood.  More specifically, the annual West Indie Day Parade that went down today right on my block.  Jerk Chicken & Meat Patties anyone?

                   

These are the things I'd rather be doing tomorrow than work:

- laundry

- going back to Montauk

- decorating my apartment

- escaping reality

And on that note...my life in pictures shall be continued on another day.  Whoever is still reading this, please drop me a line.  I miss you!

Sacred

"Religion is not primarily about God, but about the human need for the sacred...moments that stand outside time, in which the loneliness and anxiety of the human individual is confronted and overcome through immersion in the group."

- Roger Scruton

Connected

Community makes me feel sane and connected---and I like that. That's all. Goodnight.

Sad

Heaviness that weighs
Wishing it a phase
That passes...
But it stays
And stays
And stays

Yearning for a solid
Truth
But it is not out there
It is here
it is here
It is here

Engage
Quarrel like lovers
and conquer
conquer
free...

Real

I like that I have a blog--until I go back and actually read it--at which point I say to myself, "What the hell was I thinking? And why did I think what I was saying at that time was all deep and sentimental?" Quite frankly, I am often embarrassed by my own thoughts, or maybe just my lack of eloquence.

I went to a concert tonight for this guy named Thad Cockrell. He's a high-voiced folksy country singer-songwriter type who carries a particular depth to his art that adds a very real texture to his words and demeanor. It's as if he were on stage singing songs more for his own sanity than anything.

He talks about Jesus in one song, and I thought about how a lot of folks (especially where I come from) would think he was an artist to celebrate even if his music were shitty (which it isn't) just because he gave a shout out to this religious figure.

...Which made me ponder my own allegiance to Jesus and the Christian faith and why I believe the things that I do. And, at the end of the day, I do not have faith because the historical evidence points to the existence of a God man and the accuracy of his miracles. Nor do I have faith because I was always taught it's a good thing to exercise. I'm fairly certain I have faith in the existence of something higher than myself simply because I want to. I want to believe there's a better hope than what's around me and what's inside of me and that one day all of the broken parts of myself and this world will be made whole. And that's really it. Sometimes that's all I've got to get me out of bed in the morning.