I Need A Shower

I'm not dirty...in fact I showered less than 6 hours ago and have done nothing to make me dirty. I need a shower because I need to see the big picture.

I do some of my best thinking in the shower. For some odd reason, warm water hitting me in the head makes me think. I come up with many thoughts, revelations and ideas while showering. Too bad I have no water proof paper to write on.

I need a shower now. I'm working on a couple of different things that I enjoy (a paper and a sermon) but I'm lacking some distance from each of them. My brain is cluttered and I just keep typing similar phrases and statements over and over again as I write. A shower would wash away the clutter and leave behind shiny bright ideas and direction. But, I'm not going to shower. If I did so I might turn into a prune as I try to work out all that I want to and that would not be good.

In some ways this blog is like a shower. It lets me get rid of some of the random thoughts and feelings I have so I can concentrate better on the task at hand. I may not come away feeling washed clean, but I do feel refreshed as I share my randomness with the blogging world. So - after popping down more random thoughts on this blog I'm back to my paper and my sermon.

As an afternote on a completely different subject, I find it odd that the spell check that the blog uses does not recognize the words 'blog' or 'blogging.'

Every Plant Needs a Little Sun

Sometimes I feel like everyone else. But sometimes I'm keenly aware of being different because of vocation. This last week I've been completely aware that I have different responsibility...and I don't feel weighed down by it so much as that I feel guarded. Within this wall I am completely myself. I am able to be strong and a leader. I am able to be passionate and compassionate.

If I am what is inside the wall, then there is a little hut in the middle of the grounds that has extra security. Most everyone can get inside the main walls. But this next set of walls is very guarded. No one has discovered the password - and I won't even allow anyone to guess. There is a plant inside the hut that needs light - I worry that sometimes the plant gets no light because all of the other things need tending too - the owner of the hut is very rarely home enough to tend to it. No matter how much the owner of the hut waters the plant and tends to other things in the hut and outside of the hut, the plant still needs sun.

The problem is exacerbated because the owner (me) has no idea how to start getting the plant a little sun...and because the weather has been a bit gray lately anyway.

So - I'm going to finish this post because I'm tired. And, I'm going to post it. It's not complete and it may not make much sense...but it's what is coming to mind at the moment. Perhaps another day I can figure out how to get some sunlight to that plant - or maybe you can offer suggestions (if you have any idea what I'm talking about). I understand that I'll always have some plant in my hut that is a little dry or in need of light - but this one is withering - more than is healthy.

Even if the water isn't fine, I'm jumping (or at least stepping)

In discussion with friends today I remembered my 1st grade swimming lessons. While trying to coax me to jump off the diving board into the deep end, my swimming instructor (all 17 years of him that my six-year-old self had a crush on) begged me "pretty please, with a cherry on top" to jump into the pool where he would catch me. *Sigh* I couldn't do then what I still can't do now....but that's a tangent that I won't take today.

Anyway, since then every time I jump from the diving board (or even the occasional dive) I often think as I step away, "There's no turning back now." I even one time used that (pre-seminary) as the repetitive phrase in a sermon. There is no turning back, though. No matter how much I will it, once I step off that diving board I can not will myself back to it without first getting wet.

And once again I've stepped. Maybe not off, but closer to the edge of the board.

Once I do jump, there's no turning back and getting back on the board. There will be chances to try a dive again, new pools to jump into, but I will be part of the pool. Or as some of my colleagues call it, the draft. My paperwork is in for the next step in my career (although nothing will be concretely decided for a while yet). Maybe I haven't quite stepped off the diving board, but I'm taking one step closer to the edge. I will jump, even if there isn't an attractive swimming instructor waiting to catch me (but I won't complain if there is). I will mean it when I say, "I will and I ask God to help and guide me."

The Snow Sense

I often wake up naturally when it snows, particularly at the beginning of the season. When I do so it's peaceful and exciting. For some reason I gain energy from newly fallen snow. And, somehow that energy gets transmitted to me as I sleep.

I also tend to have certain other instincts that I am sure are natural from times when humanity lived a more primitive life and so I wonder, is this another one of those instincts? Do I gain energy from falling snow and wake up in the middle of the night as snow begins to fall because at one time in humanity's existence a response would be necessary?

It may just be a change in air pressure, or maybe it's the streetlights reflecting off the white of the snow. Whatever it is, it leads me to become more and more in awe of God's creation, particularly, the human and the human's interaction with nature.

Shrink Wrap Your Windows

One of my roommates is a self-proclaimed Christmas decorating fiend. Yesterday, the day we arrived back after Thanksgiving away, she proceeded to decorate our entire apartment with her Christmas decorations. The CD player is now full of Christmas music, we have a small, silver tree in the corner of our living room, and all of our kitchen towels have miraculously turned blue with snowflakes on them. I have generally not decorated my apartments and dorm rooms when at school because I don't really like to decorate until about a week before Christmas - and then leave it up until the beginning of January.

But I did my own sort of November decorating today - I went to the hardware store and purchased window insulating plastic. So far I've only done the bathroom window. I want to wait a bit before doing my bedroom in the chance that we get yet another warm front and I want to open it for some reason. Although I want to be warm, I'm not quite ready to block myself off.

I really enjoy putting the plastic up, however - especially the part where you use a hairdryer. There is just something satisfying about the plastic forming itself to the shape you've designated for it. So, don't call me to help decorate for Christmas before Dec. 15th, but if you need any help shrink wrapping your windows - I'm the woman to call.

Losing touch

Every once in a while, depending on how I sleep, my middle finger on my right hand loses some of it's ability to feel. I've talked to the dr. about it and it's a minor case of carpal tunnel syndrome. It doesn't really impact my day at all, I just notice it from time to time, particularly when typing.

I've been given some exercises to do (and no, none of them include extending that particular finger in someone's direction), and it really only comes when my hand falls asleep while underneath my head. (A side comment - It's intriguing to me that while I'm asleep, my body parts can fall into further sleep).

This slight loss of touch really reminds me how much I appreciate touch. When I'm having a bad day a hand on my back or a back scratch is so comforting. A hug, or playful roughhousing can be invigorating. As I look towards a future in which I do not know where or with whom I'll be 6 months from now, it makes me want to soak up all the touching I can. I'll be losing touch then too. I just need to find the right exercises so that I can re-aquire it.

Suit Yourself

I purchased my first official suit today. With a major interview coming up and the possibility of many more in the spring I finally purchased one that wasn't from the clearance section of the juniors department. It's simple, black, has good lining and a good line. It will be appropriate in many circumstances - but - it has no pockets.

My 8th grade biology teacher used to wear these jumpers and skirts with really deep pockets. She kept any number of things in there - and I specifically remember her one time pulling out a chloroform frog wrapped in plastic. When I thought I was going to be a teacher I envisioned myself with such pockets. I love being able to stash what I need and just pull it out. In high school I kept my driver's license in my back pocket with any money I might need and my keys in my front pocket. It took me until after college to even own a purse I would carry.

But, now, due to my suit's deficiency, I am pretty much required to carry a purse - which I now don't mind and even enjoy. Yet, to have to because my suit does not have pockets is aggravating. It just means my life is more high-maintenance.

Primary Wonder, the base

As indicated in the heading, my blog is based on the following poem by Denise Levertov,

Days pass when I forget the mystery,
Problems insoluble and problems offering
their own ignored solutions
jostle for my attention, they crowd its antechamber
along with a host of diversions, my courtiers, wearing
their colored clothes; cap and bells.

And then

once more the quiet mystery
is present to me, the throng's clamor
recedes: the mystery
that there is anything, anything at all,
let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything,
rather than void: and that, O Lord,
Creator, Hallowed One, You still
hour by hour sustain it.

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May you too be enriched and comforted by this poem.

Writing Bloc

It seems that every time I sit down to write a paper a million other things just pop up to do. There are a "host of diversions" as my lovely title poem states, and I fall prey to them. This being one, in fact.

I have nothing poignant to say, I have only time to kill as I procrastinate.

And this is all I have to say.

Fear

I'm more frightened of what my president is cabable of and will do in the name of my country's "values" than what certain radical religious groups might do in the name of their faith.

Emotions on-leave

Emotions don't come when you want them to. Even when they've been welling up inside for a while and you then try to share them, they don't come when bidden. I just shared a lot with three very dear, close friends. I shared about violent death, decisions of ethics that I tried to support the decision maker in, horrible injury, transition, saying goodbye, saying hello, accepting change within close others, and leadership. They listened, their eyes got shiny, they thanked me. Why did it take three years? I don't know that I've always thought that my story was that important, because, really, my story is about what happened to other people. Other people about whom I care(d). It's about my reaction to life changes and endings. It's about the experiences I brought with me to this place.

I could share this with these friends because they accept and love me no matter what. Even if it feels as if I'm boasting about all that I've encountered. Is it really boasting? To share the hardship to which I've been privy? Is it saying "My experience is more dramatic than yours"? I wonder if that is why I haven't told my story.

Perhaps my emotions didn't come tonight as I thought they might. However, the next time they do come, I have three beautiful people with which to share them. Three people who will continue to accept and love me no matter what. And that is a wonder.

Free, for now...

It's interesting that freedom feels instant, while, at least in my sense of the word, bondage sneaks up slowly and innocently.

The effects of my version of freedom, however, are a long time in coming, and I'm not even being oppressed! Is this why systematic change is so difficult? Either within a system, or merely within ourselves. Do we not realize that we are in a place to speak our voices, to advocate, to impact change until after the time has passed that we are truly free to do so.

My experience of freedom cannot compare to so many others. I use dramatic language to help myself understand that I have something good at this moment. Yet, at the same time, I wouldn't want the kind of freedom that means no responsibilities, no plans, not being necessary somewhere. I want something that "ties me down." So, for now, I'll enjoy my freedom by curling up with a book. Not a literary book in which I would most like to delve. Rather, one for class. One I'd like to spend more time with for myself, rather than just using it to prepare for class.

Too much

Do you ever have one of those days when you can't tell if it's a good one or bad one? Like when you have the most enjoyable time of your day complaining? Or when good news completely disrupts your carefully considered and emotionally charged plans which means you have to start from square one?

I really don't know how to cope. I want to laugh at the same time I mope around the apartment avoiding productivity. It's distressing because it is not about hope. It's recognizing angst and sharing it, albeit shallowly. Can I find hope in skimming over the top of pain? Can I find hope in this good news, even though I'd almost rather be resolute in the bad news than have to wade through the muck of decision making again?

The title of my blog comes from a favorite poem, written by Denise Levertov. She describes problems, loud and foggy and the stillness that breaks through in the wonder that everything "O Lord, Creator, Hallowed One, You still, hour by hour sustain it." From this is where my hope must come. My time in this specific location is temporary making depth somewhat difficult (my time here on earth is also temporary, but that would be a different post), and yet, even this time God sustains.