I have been vividly reminded these past weeks of how blessed I am with quality friendships. I am SO not alone. I find life hard often, but I have such loving and tender support. I regret that I do not always see it embracing me; lies of loneliness are awfully effective.
I identify with the ancient Hebrew symbolism of water-- vast and stormy oceans of water-- signifying chaos. I long for still waters, a calm blue bay, but my voyage often leaves me feeling adrift and storm-tossed. But I'm not alone in the boat. My friends journey with me, sometimes offering me care that I don't even know I need until it's offered.
I don't have time to explore this further this morning, but will come back to it, I think, to fortify my sense of companionship in this crazy thing called life. In the meantime, thank you my friends for the times you know me better than I know myself, for the times you force me to challenge my views, for the grace with which you love me.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
rapunzel
I just had a lovely conversation with one of my favourite three year-olds. She's got one of the most vivid and consistent imaginations of anyone I know. She can maintain presence as a cartoon character for days on end, never slipping up and referring to herself by her real name. These days she spends a lot of time as Super Why, a character on a PBS early learning show. In Super Why's world my name is not Moaike but Rapunzel, which I rather like, in spite of the drama and horror of the Grimm Brothers' fairy tale. I, Rapunzel, just got a phone call from Super Why in which she explained, "Super Why's alter ego is Wyatt." "Alter ego," she said! Her vocabulary knocks my socks off. Her imagination knocks my socks off. Her joy in life knocks my socks off. I think, today, I'm going to try for a happy version of Rapunzel, I'll have neither witch nor prince climbing into my castle to complicate my day as I'll keep my hair tucked neatly in place for a bit of tower time. Just me and my art/work.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
forgiveness
Forgiveness as a concept is very, very simple. In practice it's ridiculously complex. I think it's no accident that the prayer for forgiveness comes right after the prayer for bread in the Lord's Prayer. I think if I had an ample supply of bread and forgiveness, I'd be set for the journey. Thinking of the Lord's Prayer, I wonder if I'm alone in thinking that it's not just a prayer request to be forgiven for our myriad shortcomings, it's also a plea for ample stores of forgiveness to dish out to those who hurt us.
Today, my heart compelled me to extend forgiveness to someone who'd hurt me quite profoundly. I knew it was the right thing to do, to lay out the offense for consideration, to call a spade a spade, to accept an apology, forgive and move on. The problem is, the act of forgiving, speaking the words, is no magic bullet. I'm still feeling the pain of the wound. Quite frankly, it's pissing me off that the remorse I saw when discussing the injury, the remorse that prompted my forgiveness, is no longer in evidence. It's bugging me that the forgiven party is moving on as if the offense had never taken place. Never mind that I'm still bruised and bleeding. I want him to feel bad, to experience a profound and debilitating chagrin for at least as long as my own feelings are hurt. All this, of course, has nothing to do with true forgiveness.
My mom once told me a story of how, when I was about five years old, I'd been naughty, caught, and chastised for my bad behaviour. It was explained to me that I needed to say I was sorry to be forgiven. I had a perfect-- a perfectly juvenile, but perfect all the same-- understanding of forgiveness. You say, "I'm sorry," and then you're forgiven, the slate is wiped clean, you get to start over. This is what my church taught me about forgiveness, certainly about the Godly sort of forgiveness. So, I said I was sorry and I meant it! Who wouldn't want to start over? My mom's tale continues with the incredulity she felt when after supper that same night I suggested we all go to the Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone. This was a very, very rare treat in our home and my mom was appalled that after being naughty I should dare suggest such a thing. I think that was the day I learned that forgiveness wasn't what I thought it was.
Today's experience brought that story to mind and I realized I've lost my juvenile innocence with regard to forgiveness. I told the one who offended against me that he was forgiven. It was the right thing to do. I meant it. But where's the balm in that for me? If I still desire that he feel bad about hurting me, have I really forgiven him? It upsets me that I want him to feel pain, too. That's hardly part of the generosity of spirit that I long to live in.
If anyone out there has some wisdom for me on this point, I'd be glad to hear it. I know I'm forgetting something key to forgiveness that used to make sense... Though I think it's quite possible that forgiveness, in fact, doesn't really make sense in any human understanding of the notion. And I feel light years away from the capacity for anything resembling divine forgiveness. Lord have mercy.
Today, my heart compelled me to extend forgiveness to someone who'd hurt me quite profoundly. I knew it was the right thing to do, to lay out the offense for consideration, to call a spade a spade, to accept an apology, forgive and move on. The problem is, the act of forgiving, speaking the words, is no magic bullet. I'm still feeling the pain of the wound. Quite frankly, it's pissing me off that the remorse I saw when discussing the injury, the remorse that prompted my forgiveness, is no longer in evidence. It's bugging me that the forgiven party is moving on as if the offense had never taken place. Never mind that I'm still bruised and bleeding. I want him to feel bad, to experience a profound and debilitating chagrin for at least as long as my own feelings are hurt. All this, of course, has nothing to do with true forgiveness.
My mom once told me a story of how, when I was about five years old, I'd been naughty, caught, and chastised for my bad behaviour. It was explained to me that I needed to say I was sorry to be forgiven. I had a perfect-- a perfectly juvenile, but perfect all the same-- understanding of forgiveness. You say, "I'm sorry," and then you're forgiven, the slate is wiped clean, you get to start over. This is what my church taught me about forgiveness, certainly about the Godly sort of forgiveness. So, I said I was sorry and I meant it! Who wouldn't want to start over? My mom's tale continues with the incredulity she felt when after supper that same night I suggested we all go to the Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone. This was a very, very rare treat in our home and my mom was appalled that after being naughty I should dare suggest such a thing. I think that was the day I learned that forgiveness wasn't what I thought it was.
Today's experience brought that story to mind and I realized I've lost my juvenile innocence with regard to forgiveness. I told the one who offended against me that he was forgiven. It was the right thing to do. I meant it. But where's the balm in that for me? If I still desire that he feel bad about hurting me, have I really forgiven him? It upsets me that I want him to feel pain, too. That's hardly part of the generosity of spirit that I long to live in.
If anyone out there has some wisdom for me on this point, I'd be glad to hear it. I know I'm forgetting something key to forgiveness that used to make sense... Though I think it's quite possible that forgiveness, in fact, doesn't really make sense in any human understanding of the notion. And I feel light years away from the capacity for anything resembling divine forgiveness. Lord have mercy.
Friday, February 8, 2008
ten things
I'm feeling distinctly melancholy and decided blog-therapy is very much in order tonight. I've neglected the spiritual discipline of nightly posts for a month now. It's been challenging month. I wonder if I'd feel less scattered and ungrounded just now if I'd been keeping up with it. In an effort to get my head and heart back in the truth-and-beauty mode, here are ten things I noticed this week:
1. a cormorant drying her wings in the wind, her dark silhouette with outstretched wings against the grey waters of English Bay
2. a bald eagle, king of all his green and watery kingdom
3. a baby smiling at her reflection in the mirror
4. the timely, encouraging words of a new friend
5. a hand patting my back through a minor coughing fit
6. the taste of fresh blueberry cinnamon buns
7. the satisfaction of a job well done, skills recognized, vocation affirmed
8. lingering morning conversations between kindred spirits
9. good news of the impending visit of a dear friend
10. three successful volcadas executed in a single song while dancing tango
And now I'm going to bed. Early. In the hope that some rest will bring refreshment not only to my body but to my soul.
1. a cormorant drying her wings in the wind, her dark silhouette with outstretched wings against the grey waters of English Bay
2. a bald eagle, king of all his green and watery kingdom
3. a baby smiling at her reflection in the mirror
4. the timely, encouraging words of a new friend
5. a hand patting my back through a minor coughing fit
6. the taste of fresh blueberry cinnamon buns
7. the satisfaction of a job well done, skills recognized, vocation affirmed
8. lingering morning conversations between kindred spirits
9. good news of the impending visit of a dear friend
10. three successful volcadas executed in a single song while dancing tango
And now I'm going to bed. Early. In the hope that some rest will bring refreshment not only to my body but to my soul.
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