The Last, Best Thing

I’m on the second day of the OnBeing Gathering, and I am already in awe of the number of connections, spiritual fulfillment, and pure grace I have gained here. Every time someone has joined me at a meal or started a conversation, I have been so grateful to be pushed outside of my introvert zone and made some truly fantastic connections.

One of the benefits of this has been the space to refocus and start clarifying my own purpose and desires. I’m beginning to realize, very quickly, that I really love writing— poetry, prose, short, long– I want to write more. 

So, beyond giving up coffee, I’m going to write a poem a day for the rest of Lent. I have some making up to do, but I’m excited to push myself in this way. It won’t be perfect, I know many of them will be bad, but I know I need to start rehabilitating and rebuilding the muscle.

Anyway, here’s the first.


2/16/18

When the last, best thing
spills forth from
your lips, what will be
the image that you paint?
The story that you tell?

You have lived a life on
the cusp for years now,
so carefully dipping
that funny toe of yours
right the buoy marked, “SAFE.”
You have reached around
that barrier trying to
find some sign saying to “GO.”

Can you see beyond yourself?
Can you find the place
in you that is pure
movement? That bubbling
red blood in your gut
that fuels the body
to movement, to action?

Can you ride that river
to the sea that called
your ancestors, as it
once did to you? Can
you find comfort in
the raging currents,
see the beauty and
not fear the white-foamed
wave that swallowed you?

See your rabbit-heart as
the paddles of your ship,
the curve of your hip the
rudder of riding the current.
Know that the last, best
thing you say or see will
be found on the side of a buoy
or ever be the safest route.

Go, now, knowing the best
thing will be to set out
and find yourself home
again.

Ashes: On Lent and Choice

I have always struggled with the concept of Lent.

In theory, I’m a huge fan of a 40-day retreat leading up to the Spring and Summer. It allows us to become thoughtful as we end the busy holiday and New Year season, and ensure we can reset our intentions (in any given context) around the new year. It’s a period to look inward, question ourselves, and push ourselves to grow as people and as Christians.

Still, Lent also comes with a whole host of rules that even non-Catholics question. Why am I fasting today? What if I have an athletic event that day? Why can’t I eat meat? What counts or doesn’t count? If I eat meat Friday can I get away with being vegetarian on Sunday instead?

I struggled with these questions because, honestly, I don’t really think God cares that much if I eat meat or not today, or whether or not I fast. If I ate a cheeseburger right now but still tried to generally be a good person, I don’t think I’d get kicked out at the pearly gates when my time came. I don’t think that would happen to anyone else either.

As I got older, though, and returned to my faith a few years ago, I realized that I wasn’t becoming involved in Lenten practices out of fear of my Father, but rather as a thoughtful choice to better myself as a person. Lent has nothing to do with “having” to give things up, it’s a choice to let go of things in your life that you may not need, or create some healthy distance from parts of ourselves we have perhaps become too indulgent in. Lent is the opportunity to actively step back and re-evaluate what you actually need, what you can let go of, and what you can do to enrich your life.

In addition, though, Lent is the opportunity to welcome new, more giving parts of ourselves. I’ve often enjoyed hearing from priests like Fr. James Martin SJ, who invited us last year to add more kindness to our lives this Lenten season. I was also happy to hear that Pope Francis encouraged us to give up indifference towards our fellow humans.

So, this year I have a few things I’m giving up privately. I’m hoping to become a healthier person physically and emotionally, so I’m using this season to work towards that.

I’m also, though, planning on donating to and shouting out a different charity each week. I struggled with this a bit– I don’t want to come off as boastful (and, let’s be honest, I’m a teacher– I’m not giving a lot of money). Still, I want to encourage others to find charity this season, Christian or not, especially in times where resistance and power are sometimes financial.

So, this week, I’m donating to the Southern Poverty Law Center. As someone who has benefited immensely from Teaching Tolerance and been involved with the amazing work they do. As we fight to ensure equity and safety for so many students, the work they do to educate teachers and students is essential. I encourage you to send a donation their way.

 

Knowledge, Self-Control, Endurance: On Lent

It’s the Lenten season again, which means a time for reflection and renewal. A time to let parts of us die so we can draw closer to Christ.

I’ve struggled a lot with what to do this Lenten season. I’m much busier than I had planned to be this spring, and I honestly worry that keeping to something particularly strict would be too hard and not in line with what I actually need.

Last year, I gave up ice cream and alcohol. A noble task and one that I’m proud my partner and I accomplished (having an accountability buddy certainly helped). While it was probably a healthy thing to do, I don’t know if it brought me closer to God. It pushed me as a person, but I don’t know that it pushed me in my relationship with Christ (though the two aren’t mutually exclusive).

This year, Pope Francis has declared it a year of an Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy. We are called to revel in Christ’s extraordinary mercy on us, and seek to live that holy mercy in our everyday lives. It is only fitting that the reading for Ash Wednesday this year are the Beatitudes. The juxtaposition of those who are struck low now being brought high by Christ reminds us that there is always room within God’s mercy to be made whole again; life tends to trend towards an equilibrium.

For me, this means attempting to live compassionately towards others and towards myself. It is a reminder that in Christ is not just the compassion we hope to be brought, but what we should bring and seek within ourselves for others as well.

Since last year was a year of extreme physical sacrifice, I am going to try and live a compassionate life– towards others and myself. This Lent, I am going to seek moderation. I hope that, in learning to live a more balanced, tempered life, I can attempt to find a sustainable way to live with God at my center. As 2 Peter says:

For this very reason, you must make every effort to support your faith with goodness, and goodness with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with endurance, and endurance with godliness, and godliness with mutual affection, and mutual affection with love. For if these things are yours and are increasing among you, they keep you from being ineffective and unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

God reminds us that love isn’t just butterflies-in-the-belly, but flourishes in knowledgeable, self-control that helps us endure trials when the path is less than rosy. Love of all forms– towards each other, ourselves– isn’t always about the extremes. It’s also about the patience and ability to endure.

So, for Lent, I am going to do a  few things to try and live a more moderate life– around drinking, rest, and social media use.

I’m also making a conscious choice to keep these personal. I worry that some aspects of my faith have become for show, and want to try and keep somethings for myself (despite doing work and generally enjoying sharing about my life).

I hope the Lenten season pushes us all to be more compassionate and seek more of Christ’s understanding love in ourselves and each other.

One final thing: check out the Ignatian Solidarity Network’s Lenten journey for Racial Justice. I’m really excited to take part.