Archive for July, 2010

Hope and Humility

July 26, 2010

  “Hope is a decision.” – Jim Wallis, founder of Sojourners, in a Speaking of Faith interview  

I’ve been thinking about hope and humility. If hope is a decision, I believe humility is as well. I came to this theory in my yoga class. The instigator was chaturanga pose, my nemesis, a reverse push-up in which you slowly lower your body like a plank to a hover a few inches above the floor. I’m not very good at this pose. In fact, I hate it.  

This week I found myself getting angrier and angrier at my teacher each time she asked us to do another one, until, in a moment of grace, the word “humility” came to me. I decided to just accept that the pose is hard for me rather than wish I could do it as well as my classmates.

Letting chaturanga be an intentional exercise in humility is a relief. It helps me let go of my frustration that I’m still doing it on my knees (A.K.A. the “girl” version) after 11 years of practicing. There are a lot of things I wish I were good at, but I’m not. The expectation that I even need to be is what I’m letting go. Anne Lamott writes in her book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life:

“Perfection is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people… It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life.”

I know that cramped feeling. I know insanity. In fact, it creeps up on me any time I disappoint a friend, compare my arm strength to that of my fellow yoginis, or am embarrassed that I need others’ talents to balance out my shortcomings.

Humility is a welcome alternative. Thank you, chaturanga, for teaching me this lesson. I’m not a big fan of the phrase “lighten up,” as it is often delivered in a condescending tone, but indeed, when I decide that it’s OK to be less than perfect, I lighten up. 

In a common Sun Salutation yoga sequence, one moves from chaturanga to upward-facing dog pose, described in Yoga Journal as “an invigorating backbend that opens the chest and shoulders.” If chaturanga feels like humility, then upward dog feels like hope. From one to the other in one breath. Bowing my heart to God; opening my heart to God.

With intention, I move from accepting my place in the order of things to using my gifts to create something new. Over and over again.

What’s on your A list?

July 20, 2010

A friend of mine is working towards a joint master’s degree from Duke University’s School of the Environment and Divinity School. It’s exciting to hear about her intention to combine the two fields of study for the good of the planet. Our conversations about all of the theology she is learning are incredibly enlightening and fun. They confirm my desire to work for social justice driven by an ever-unfolding understanding of the responsibility I’ve taken on by being a child of God. She recommended to me – a Bible neophyte – that I read the Old Testament’s Book of Amos for a good dose of social justice.

So I added “Read Amos” to my newly organized to-do list for the weekend. Last week I took a workshop on planning, focus and prioritization, an experience I hope will make me more “efficient and effective” (or at least punctual!) Particularly now that I have a super cute, salmon-pink planner making it all the more fun to get organized! One tip offered was to rank the importance and urgency of daily tasks with an A, B or C. I ranked reading Amos a B since “Pay Bills” was a bit more urgent, if not more important.
 
I wanted to read Amos without looking at the footnotes to see what I could absorb on my own. Luckily, it was pretty easy to get the gist of the following admonition from the Lord:

“I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals I will not look upon. Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:21-24)
 
You might recognize that last line from Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have A Dream” speech. I yearn to hear more of its kind in church, to inspire and embolden us to follow his and others’ examples.

I admit though that I was feeling a bit anti-church this morning after reading about the Vatican’s including the ordination of women in the same “grave delict” category as the sexual abuse of children. If that kind of thinking is Christianity, what am I doing getting dressed up to go be a part of it? I then reminded myself that my church has two ordained women priests! So off I went and asked God to please let me hear something I need to get past my doubt.
 
I walk in and what’s being read aloud? Amos! Now, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard Amos in church. Granted, I’m usually late so I well could have missed it! I couldn’t help but feel that God had asked them to read it just for me, as a way to say, “Yes, you are meant to be here today.”

Adding to the list of grace-filled coincidences of the morning was priest Randy Hollerith’s sermon. In it, he noted how some people rank their to-do lists as A, B or C priorities. Hey! I just learned that little organizational trick in my training! Randy closed by saying, “The demand for justice is God’s ‘A’ priority.”

 
I was glad to be reminded of what needs to be at the top of my to-do list Monday morning. 
 
What’s on yours?

Living Out Loud…Why?

July 15, 2010

On my makeshift altar, there is a card with a quote from Emile Zola that reads: “If you asked me what I came into this world to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.” I believe I did as well. I came to talk about real things. I came to share my heart and to feel yours.

I need that reminder as I contemplate why I write and share this blog with you all. It’s scary to do so. In the last three weeks, I’ve been on vacation and I’ve started a new job; the time off from writing was freeing. I felt free from the dread of Monday morning – Should I have hit send last night? Free from the feeling of vulnerability – Did I say too much? Will they think I’m crazy for baring my soul? And free from doubt - Who cares what I think?

But I want to connect. With you. With my spirit. With a deeper truth.

It’s the uneasy feeling of vulnerability that makes me regularly question whether I should keep doing this. Vulnerability seems like a very good thing to avoid! Other people don’t say these things about their lives out loud. That seems like such a safer and saner way to live.

I realize though that it isn’t just my writing that makes me feel that way – my whole life ethos is dependent upon a willingness to be vulnerable. I feel it walking up the aisle towards the Eucharist. Talking about the future with my boyfriend. Being authentic with his family. Starting a new job. Leading a contemplative workshop for my friends and their husbands. Hoping for something I really want.

When I seek safety instead of risking vulnerability, I need to ask in whose service am I writing and is the risk worth it? I believe that I live out loud in service to God.

Does fear of embarrassment or total mortification ever hold you back from giving what you have to give? What if that very thing you are afraid to share matters more than you know?


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