Monday, June 1, 2015
We're Wild Inside
There are no killers here.
Advanced and advancing, the global climate
has cooled to your merits and your claws
has cooled to your merits and your claws
are no longer an asset, dear.
You have domesticated the wild animal of my body.
Urban serenity asks nicely: Beautiful Beast, leave
your teeth at home and stoop your head
and lap milk.
And we will all survive.
We live in a world where almost everyone is medicated.
Isn't that a weird thought.
Isn't that a weird thought.
Almost everyone we meet and interact with on a daily basis presents a chemically altered version of themselves. (This is documented by social science data, if you're curious.)
I was watching a documentary about lions... the papa lion was coming home... the mama lions thought he was a bad guy... they got all buzzed and hopped up on aggression to defend the cubs... then they realized their mistake; this was no rouge! this was their guy... but the raw adrenaline was still pumping! They had to let the rippling energy out. They screamed and boxed and wrestled each other until the wild emotions passed out of their bodies. Only then they could lay calm again in the sun.
Our world makes no room for that wildness. It gives no outlet. So we drug ourselves to deal with the animal anxiety and aggression.
Ugh! It just doesn't sit right with me... but I guess it's better than a world at war.
I have had medicated seasons in the past few years. It's been a god-send, but I've always been restless and unsettled with it. It curbs the restless, roaring, pacing animal of my inner life. It takes me off the knife's edge. My natural state is one of constant yearning and leaning into life. I am addicted to "Possibility" because I find it exhilarating! It's like leaning into the sea wind and imagining you can fly.
Medication softens me. At some points I have said, "It makes me more myself" but perhaps the truth is, it makes me an easier version of myself.
I don't know if I want to be the wild lioness.
She's exhausting to live with... she's soft, but she has claws and if you're not constantly paying attention to her, she will slash you.
But I don't know if I'm comfortable being the domesticated lioness. She seems to be untruthful in a way... a shadow of herself.
I know which version of me works better in the world I live in.
But I wonder if the world might gain more from the unsoftened life?
I have had medicated seasons in the past few years. It's been a god-send, but I've always been restless and unsettled with it. It curbs the restless, roaring, pacing animal of my inner life. It takes me off the knife's edge. My natural state is one of constant yearning and leaning into life. I am addicted to "Possibility" because I find it exhilarating! It's like leaning into the sea wind and imagining you can fly.
Medication softens me. At some points I have said, "It makes me more myself" but perhaps the truth is, it makes me an easier version of myself.
I don't know if I want to be the wild lioness.
She's exhausting to live with... she's soft, but she has claws and if you're not constantly paying attention to her, she will slash you.
But I don't know if I'm comfortable being the domesticated lioness. She seems to be untruthful in a way... a shadow of herself.
I know which version of me works better in the world I live in.
But I wonder if the world might gain more from the unsoftened life?
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Talking With Kids About Mindfulness
From the mouth of babes.
I tried to watch this and talk about it when my 2.5 year old, but he wasn't too happy that I made him stop watching Curious George to see... not a win. But a good resource for how to think about feelings of anger and frustration related to how our bodies feel, and how to control it.
My Journey With Meditation: PART THREE (should I stop labeling these?)
Depression is the brain's way of forcing you into a meditative place.
That's an idea that occurred to me as I was beginning to combat severe postpartum depression with my first child.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, childless for the first moment in forever. I could barely lift my cup because my brain and body felt so heavy and spent. But the heaviness had a certain calm to it... the blankness had a certain weird measure of tranquility which was better than the anxious, racing, hold-on-by-your-fingernails survival mode of keeping my life afloat. Yes, it was totally cloaked/fogged by sadness and guilt and "depression", but there was a safety in it.
I wasn't choosing to go all "crashed computer blank screen" on myself... it was happening TO ME... but there was something almost relieving about it.
That idea reoccurred to me again today as I curled up in a ball on the sofa and covered my head with a pillow and said, "I can't do this one more day. I can't endure fighting for every inch with my first born and having no rational way to tell my second born that I just need two seconds to feed myself the crusts of leftover PB&J so I can still make milk for him... for one more day."
I'm a can-do person... to the extreme sometimes. My friends are SICK of hearing yet another one of my ideas. I'm pretty sure, "Hey! We could do _______" is something they never want to hear out of my mouth again. So when I max out and say, "I can't" it's a cry so deep, so true, so aching, so final.
My husband always says, "Aw. Yes you can!"
He doesn't know what else to say.
What else could he say?
If I knew, I'd give him a suggestion, because I hate hearing it... because when I say, "I can't," I mean it. I'm saying it from a place of total mental and physical emptiness... nothing else to give... no more resources to draw on... maxed-the-actual-fuck-out... pardon my french. (I've found extremely forceful language is often the only thing that makes people realize you are REALLY not kidding.)
But I've learned to receive these periods of total spent-ness with a measure of gratefulness. They remind me what it is to stop, to not feel all the feelings.
This is what meditation tries to bring into our day... but we're usually too helter-skelter to bring it into our lives on our own. When our Stress Response barrages our sanity with too much force, too often, for too long... eventually our bodies will force us there.
I want to experience the placid immovable quiet and 'stopped-ness' on purpose, intentionally... not because the motherboard of my mother-self is fried.
Still working on that.
But also learning to see the 'fried' periods with less judgement, with a little more thankfulness... because it's my body's way of protecting me until I can learn to protect myself.
SIDE NOTE: St. Teresa wrote (I'm going to paraphrase because I don't have the energy or will to get up and get the book), "Even if you're not in the religious order, you should always have a mentor/director so that you'll always have an authority over you because directing ourselves with our own will can be horrible." --- There is a safety in saying, "I can't... my body won't let me." In an age when we have shunted all authority/mentorship aside and must govern ourselves wholy, it is hard to say no... but when our body acts as a higher authority, it's a relief!
That's an idea that occurred to me as I was beginning to combat severe postpartum depression with my first child.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, childless for the first moment in forever. I could barely lift my cup because my brain and body felt so heavy and spent. But the heaviness had a certain calm to it... the blankness had a certain weird measure of tranquility which was better than the anxious, racing, hold-on-by-your-fingernails survival mode of keeping my life afloat. Yes, it was totally cloaked/fogged by sadness and guilt and "depression", but there was a safety in it.
I wasn't choosing to go all "crashed computer blank screen" on myself... it was happening TO ME... but there was something almost relieving about it.
That idea reoccurred to me again today as I curled up in a ball on the sofa and covered my head with a pillow and said, "I can't do this one more day. I can't endure fighting for every inch with my first born and having no rational way to tell my second born that I just need two seconds to feed myself the crusts of leftover PB&J so I can still make milk for him... for one more day."
I'm a can-do person... to the extreme sometimes. My friends are SICK of hearing yet another one of my ideas. I'm pretty sure, "Hey! We could do _______" is something they never want to hear out of my mouth again. So when I max out and say, "I can't" it's a cry so deep, so true, so aching, so final.
My husband always says, "Aw. Yes you can!"
He doesn't know what else to say.
What else could he say?
If I knew, I'd give him a suggestion, because I hate hearing it... because when I say, "I can't," I mean it. I'm saying it from a place of total mental and physical emptiness... nothing else to give... no more resources to draw on... maxed-the-actual-fuck-out... pardon my french. (I've found extremely forceful language is often the only thing that makes people realize you are REALLY not kidding.)
But I've learned to receive these periods of total spent-ness with a measure of gratefulness. They remind me what it is to stop, to not feel all the feelings.
This is what meditation tries to bring into our day... but we're usually too helter-skelter to bring it into our lives on our own. When our Stress Response barrages our sanity with too much force, too often, for too long... eventually our bodies will force us there.
I want to experience the placid immovable quiet and 'stopped-ness' on purpose, intentionally... not because the motherboard of my mother-self is fried.
Still working on that.
But also learning to see the 'fried' periods with less judgement, with a little more thankfulness... because it's my body's way of protecting me until I can learn to protect myself.
SIDE NOTE: St. Teresa wrote (I'm going to paraphrase because I don't have the energy or will to get up and get the book), "Even if you're not in the religious order, you should always have a mentor/director so that you'll always have an authority over you because directing ourselves with our own will can be horrible." --- There is a safety in saying, "I can't... my body won't let me." In an age when we have shunted all authority/mentorship aside and must govern ourselves wholy, it is hard to say no... but when our body acts as a higher authority, it's a relief!
Friday, May 29, 2015
Sometimes... Just Float
It seems like it's far, far too easy to upset the balance of my family.
The past two months have had little "extras" embedded in them. Wedding, funeral, community service, child-rearing difficulties, co-workers out of town, co-workers quitting = extra work hours for KawaPapa. It's all mounted up and stretched the normal fabric of our routine.
It always seems fine while it's happening... almost fun! Yay! Something new in our routine! But then... The baby starts teething and stops napping or sleeping at night.
E-Money learns to climb out of his crib and also dips into another difficult spell where it seems like he is making it his mission to mentally and physically crush me. (You think I'm speaking in hyperbole! Oh I wish.)
Our iPad breaks... gets repaired... breaks again the same day.
Our laundry pile mounts up.
My insomnia flares.
The baby gets a fever and we're up all night....
And suddenly those stretched margins begin turning into ripped seams, and we're all falling apart.
I can't help but compare myself to others.... other families seem to be able to take on so much more and still stay afloat. What's wrong with us? Or maybe it's me. I mean... I know it's me. I'm the loose screw. That's why I'm here... writing about my crazy.
Sometimes I try to make a list of excuses for why we can't seem to keep it together under the normal pressures of life... wildly difficult toddler, sleepless nights, low paying job, no family in town, haven't had a hair cut in over two years, can't loose my baby weight this time around...
Sometimes those reasons ring true... and other times they just sound like whining.
.......................... and I could probably turn this into some kind of inspirational message, but E-Money just climbed out of his bed AGAIN and the baby spit out his paci AGAIN and I need to hide in a deep dark hole and just cry and catch my breath.
So here's the inspirational message:
Sometimes when shit hits the fan, you just don't clean up the mess until tomorrow.
Sometimes you just stop fighting the tide. You let it wash over you, drag you out to sea... if you struggle you'll tire and sink, but if you float on your back and watch the sky... eventually the water will bring you back.
The past two months have had little "extras" embedded in them. Wedding, funeral, community service, child-rearing difficulties, co-workers out of town, co-workers quitting = extra work hours for KawaPapa. It's all mounted up and stretched the normal fabric of our routine.
It always seems fine while it's happening... almost fun! Yay! Something new in our routine! But then... The baby starts teething and stops napping or sleeping at night.
E-Money learns to climb out of his crib and also dips into another difficult spell where it seems like he is making it his mission to mentally and physically crush me. (You think I'm speaking in hyperbole! Oh I wish.)
Our iPad breaks... gets repaired... breaks again the same day.
Our laundry pile mounts up.
My insomnia flares.
The baby gets a fever and we're up all night....
And suddenly those stretched margins begin turning into ripped seams, and we're all falling apart.
I can't help but compare myself to others.... other families seem to be able to take on so much more and still stay afloat. What's wrong with us? Or maybe it's me. I mean... I know it's me. I'm the loose screw. That's why I'm here... writing about my crazy.
Sometimes I try to make a list of excuses for why we can't seem to keep it together under the normal pressures of life... wildly difficult toddler, sleepless nights, low paying job, no family in town, haven't had a hair cut in over two years, can't loose my baby weight this time around...
Sometimes those reasons ring true... and other times they just sound like whining.
.......................... and I could probably turn this into some kind of inspirational message, but E-Money just climbed out of his bed AGAIN and the baby spit out his paci AGAIN and I need to hide in a deep dark hole and just cry and catch my breath.
So here's the inspirational message:
Sometimes when shit hits the fan, you just don't clean up the mess until tomorrow.
Sometimes you just stop fighting the tide. You let it wash over you, drag you out to sea... if you struggle you'll tire and sink, but if you float on your back and watch the sky... eventually the water will bring you back.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Mysticism is Weird... PART TWO
I wrote earlier that Mysticism is Weird...
But if I'm going to give this subject the respect and dignity is deserves, I have to ask a hard question: Does my discomfort with mysticism (or maybe even my borderline rejection of mysticism) mean that I think I can handle my problems better than God?
Does my distrust of mysticism mean that I don't think God is able?
Does it mean I don't think he is willing?
Does it mean I don't really give him a place in my life?
By now you know I'm reading St. Teresa's writings (The Interior Castle).
She is a big fan of sitting around and waiting for God to show up and do cool mystical things rather than practicing a set of disciplines which bring God's light to daily routines. (That's a very simplistic way of expressing it which doesn't do it justice, but you get the idea.)
This tends to be the popular Christian mindset. That we can bring nothing but wretchedness... therefore we're helpless to shape ourselves for the better unless he stoops to raise us up.
"Let go and let God." -- "God is sovereign." -- "Wretched, poor, and helpless we!"
(This is the mentality which can be so heavy for the depressed person... because if we're not raised up from an exterior power, what does that say about God's heart toward our suffering?)
Call me crazy, but philosophically I don't actually disagree with any of those things... BUT as I've pondered the subject I've come to two key conclusions:
#1 --- Our total fixation on salvation by grace through faith alone (which can often lead us to the conclusion that we are horrible, terrible, no good, very bad, yucky heads who can make no movement toward light on our own) misses a really really important point that isn't brought up enough:
When God's Grace has done it's good work, lifting the helpless dead thing out of the muck and mire, THEN THE HELPLESS DEAD THING IS A REVIVED AND REDEEMED THING.
I think the church is so stuck on the grace of salvation that they've forgotten to focus on what happens AFTER GRACE.... we are redeemed. We are restored. We are sons and daughters of the universal king. We are glorious because his love is glorious. We are beautiful because we have souls designed to reflect the image of God... they just needed a little polishing and the light of love to be shone on them.
This is why, as a Christian, we do not need to be eternally self-depricating. We do not need to be eternally reflecting on our ickiness.... because we have been made new. Let's move past grace for a minute and celebrate what grace has done! That subtle shift in focus is radically life changing.
WHEW! That's a big one... kinda feel like just stopping there... but I'll press on so it will actually all tie together.
#2 --- God has set the road before us. We must walk it. He will help us. But he will not walk our road... if he didn't care about us slogging through the process, then he would just spirit us away to heaven. This means we are responsible for our own internal attitudes, mindsets, will, etc.
On the one hand we cannot do it alone (thus prayer and meditation are offered us as tools).
On the other hand, we do have to do it... thus tools are offered in the first place.
SO..... Mysticism (waiting for the divine to come swooping in) or Mindfulness (exercising our minds and spirits to live out a life reflecting the redemption of God)?
They both have their place, but I am confident that choosing an approach of Mindfulness is NOT an indication of doubting God's place, power, efficacy, or will to act.
Choosing Mindfulness over Mysticism is NOT a lack of faith.
It's just good and responsible 'follower-ship.'
But if I'm going to give this subject the respect and dignity is deserves, I have to ask a hard question: Does my discomfort with mysticism (or maybe even my borderline rejection of mysticism) mean that I think I can handle my problems better than God?
Does my distrust of mysticism mean that I don't think God is able?
Does it mean I don't think he is willing?
Does it mean I don't really give him a place in my life?
By now you know I'm reading St. Teresa's writings (The Interior Castle).
She is a big fan of sitting around and waiting for God to show up and do cool mystical things rather than practicing a set of disciplines which bring God's light to daily routines. (That's a very simplistic way of expressing it which doesn't do it justice, but you get the idea.)
This tends to be the popular Christian mindset. That we can bring nothing but wretchedness... therefore we're helpless to shape ourselves for the better unless he stoops to raise us up.
"Let go and let God." -- "God is sovereign." -- "Wretched, poor, and helpless we!"
(This is the mentality which can be so heavy for the depressed person... because if we're not raised up from an exterior power, what does that say about God's heart toward our suffering?)
Call me crazy, but philosophically I don't actually disagree with any of those things... BUT as I've pondered the subject I've come to two key conclusions:
#1 --- Our total fixation on salvation by grace through faith alone (which can often lead us to the conclusion that we are horrible, terrible, no good, very bad, yucky heads who can make no movement toward light on our own) misses a really really important point that isn't brought up enough:
When God's Grace has done it's good work, lifting the helpless dead thing out of the muck and mire, THEN THE HELPLESS DEAD THING IS A REVIVED AND REDEEMED THING.
I think the church is so stuck on the grace of salvation that they've forgotten to focus on what happens AFTER GRACE.... we are redeemed. We are restored. We are sons and daughters of the universal king. We are glorious because his love is glorious. We are beautiful because we have souls designed to reflect the image of God... they just needed a little polishing and the light of love to be shone on them.
This is why, as a Christian, we do not need to be eternally self-depricating. We do not need to be eternally reflecting on our ickiness.... because we have been made new. Let's move past grace for a minute and celebrate what grace has done! That subtle shift in focus is radically life changing.
WHEW! That's a big one... kinda feel like just stopping there... but I'll press on so it will actually all tie together.
#2 --- God has set the road before us. We must walk it. He will help us. But he will not walk our road... if he didn't care about us slogging through the process, then he would just spirit us away to heaven. This means we are responsible for our own internal attitudes, mindsets, will, etc.
On the one hand we cannot do it alone (thus prayer and meditation are offered us as tools).
On the other hand, we do have to do it... thus tools are offered in the first place.
SO..... Mysticism (waiting for the divine to come swooping in) or Mindfulness (exercising our minds and spirits to live out a life reflecting the redemption of God)?
They both have their place, but I am confident that choosing an approach of Mindfulness is NOT an indication of doubting God's place, power, efficacy, or will to act.
Choosing Mindfulness over Mysticism is NOT a lack of faith.
It's just good and responsible 'follower-ship.'
Mysticism is Weird... Like JumboShrimp
As a Christian, when you begin to explore meditation and prayer deeply, people are quick to label you a "mystic" or to start recommending books on "Christian Mysticism" for you to read.
I don't know about you, but... when you say "mysticism" all I can think of is rainbow tie dyed T-shirts, weird candlelit ceremonies, and kooky phrases like "get in touch with the divine." And #sorrynotsorry that is just NOT me.
I'm not looking for mystical experiences of the divine on the daily.
It's not that I don't believe they can happen... it's just, to be honest, at this time I don't feel like I need more mysteries in my day. I need more peace. More stability. More love for others. More energy to serve. More joy. I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror and smile. I need to have a calm heart so I can be there for my kids, my community, my marriage. (Not necessarily in that order.)
I read a brainy, high-brow article by April D. DeConick this week. She wrote, "As a word, 'mysticism' has a notorious reputation... It is often used as an antonym for so-called 'rationalism' [and is] associated with so-called 'supernaturalism' in contradistinction to our contemporary scientific view of the world." And I'm like... yeah... that. I prefer a more practical, scientific approach.
She goes on to explain that "as an '-ism'" mysticism wasn't even a word ancient peoples would have used to describe their experience. "When the early Jews and Christians describe their mystical experiences in a single word, they do so most often by employ the term... 'revelation'" (2).
If I'm going to have a revelation experience, God will be the chief agent of that encounter!
God knocked wayward Paul off his horse on the highroad while the dude was traveling to slaughter a bunch of Christians... not seeking him out in the slightest. My practice or non-practice will not inhibit God from revealing himself if he needs to or wants to. (Ok, ok, it might possibly slow him down because he has allowed us to be involved in this process... but that's another topic!)
The goal of my exploration and practice of meditation and prayer is not to achieve a revelation/ a mystical experience. When I turn to meditative practice and prayer, I'm reaching for something more practical... more daily... more habitual. I'm looking to train my heart toward peace, like you train a bean vine to climb a pole. I'm looking to train my mind to quiet so that I can sleep. I'm looking to train my anger to disperse before it explodes and hurts the ones I love. I'm looking to train myself to have a knee jerk reaction of compassion rather than judgement.
And here's the thing.... I think that's probably what most Christian Mystics are going for. But the title "Mystic" kind of gums up the works when it comes to sharing the way with those outside the faith.
It undermines their street-cred and makes them sounds like wackodoodles to the skeptical Modern.
Buddhism has acquired a much friendlier term that we, modern scientific Americans, are more comfortable with: Mindfulness. Brain training. And so, in the quest for winning hearts and minds, they're ahead.
So what is a better word we can use to describe the similar Christian practice?
Cause "Mysticism" is weird.
Let's brain storm. I got nuthin.
I don't know about you, but... when you say "mysticism" all I can think of is rainbow tie dyed T-shirts, weird candlelit ceremonies, and kooky phrases like "get in touch with the divine." And #sorrynotsorry that is just NOT me.
I'm not looking for mystical experiences of the divine on the daily.
It's not that I don't believe they can happen... it's just, to be honest, at this time I don't feel like I need more mysteries in my day. I need more peace. More stability. More love for others. More energy to serve. More joy. I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror and smile. I need to have a calm heart so I can be there for my kids, my community, my marriage. (Not necessarily in that order.)
I read a brainy, high-brow article by April D. DeConick this week. She wrote, "As a word, 'mysticism' has a notorious reputation... It is often used as an antonym for so-called 'rationalism' [and is] associated with so-called 'supernaturalism' in contradistinction to our contemporary scientific view of the world." And I'm like... yeah... that. I prefer a more practical, scientific approach.
She goes on to explain that "as an '-ism'" mysticism wasn't even a word ancient peoples would have used to describe their experience. "When the early Jews and Christians describe their mystical experiences in a single word, they do so most often by employ the term... 'revelation'" (2).
If I'm going to have a revelation experience, God will be the chief agent of that encounter!
God knocked wayward Paul off his horse on the highroad while the dude was traveling to slaughter a bunch of Christians... not seeking him out in the slightest. My practice or non-practice will not inhibit God from revealing himself if he needs to or wants to. (Ok, ok, it might possibly slow him down because he has allowed us to be involved in this process... but that's another topic!)
The goal of my exploration and practice of meditation and prayer is not to achieve a revelation/ a mystical experience. When I turn to meditative practice and prayer, I'm reaching for something more practical... more daily... more habitual. I'm looking to train my heart toward peace, like you train a bean vine to climb a pole. I'm looking to train my mind to quiet so that I can sleep. I'm looking to train my anger to disperse before it explodes and hurts the ones I love. I'm looking to train myself to have a knee jerk reaction of compassion rather than judgement.
And here's the thing.... I think that's probably what most Christian Mystics are going for. But the title "Mystic" kind of gums up the works when it comes to sharing the way with those outside the faith.
It undermines their street-cred and makes them sounds like wackodoodles to the skeptical Modern.
Buddhism has acquired a much friendlier term that we, modern scientific Americans, are more comfortable with: Mindfulness. Brain training. And so, in the quest for winning hearts and minds, they're ahead.
So what is a better word we can use to describe the similar Christian practice?
Cause "Mysticism" is weird.
Let's brain storm. I got nuthin.
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