Monday

Today was one of those days that just felt like a Monday.

I didn't get enough sleep last night - mom and dad were up late packing (they left this morning to spend the next three weeks working in Ukraine). Add to that the noise from the street coming through my open window, and the ambient noise from the fan in my bedroom that I'm not yet used to, and sleep was limited and slow in coming.

It seems nearly everyone at work was feeling the same way. While my coworkers are not always the most congenial bunch, everyone seemed more out of sorts than normal today, and it was showing. Cranky conversations. Petty bickering. Childish gossip. These were staples in some of the offices surrounding my desk today. And me? I stuck nearly 1500 return address labels onto envelopes today, continued what is a most frustrating and difficult quest to locate a paper folding machine from a company in Canada rather than the US (for warranty reasons), and ate a horrifically bad imitation of a quesadilla for lunch.

However, thanks to having a car at my disposal for the next three weeks, as soon as I'd arrived home from work long enough to feed the dog and let him outside for a few minutes, I took off again, grocery shopping for the coming week or so. I bought some lunch staples, and a bunch of fresh fruit, and I'm quite looking forward to indulging myself for lunches the next couple of days.

I came home from the grocery store and sat on the patio while I barbequed chicken breasts for lunches this week. It was that windy, early summer storm on the way kind of weather. Warm, but with just a touch of wildness. I read a novel and ate fresh cherries and carrots. So good.

I wonder sometimes if other people derive such simple pleasures. A friend talked about eating cherries on the weekend, and it triggered a desire in me. I went to the grocery store, and less than an hour later found myself sitting on a patio with a bowlful of cherries and carrots, preparing food for future meals that I'm also looking forward to. It still seems funny to me, how the little things can make my day. All those years of depression where nothing was really enjoyed, and now, a stolen bite of chicken, a ripe cherry - spitting the pit into the grassy lawn, a good novel, sunlight warming my neck and wind whipping through my hair, a hot bath, a surprise drop by visit from an old friend, mozzarella cheese, a comfortable chair, and a good novel - all of these things bring me great joy and satisfaction.

I think that might be a good thing.

The last week or two have been filled with angst. I've mulled and wrestled. Been tormented and tormented myself. Asked questions that had been answered and answered questions that hadn't been asked. I'll tell you about it sometime this week. But for tonight? I'm heading for bed, with my novel in tow, and thinking about snagging another cherry or two on my way!

In and Not Of

Another bit from Henri Nouwen...

Jesus Is in the World Not of It

The Beatitudes offer us a self-portrait of Jesus. At first it might seem to be a most unappealing portrait - who wants to be poor, mourning and persecuted? Who can be truly gentle, merciful, pure in heart, a peacemaker, and always concerned about justice? Where is the realism here? Don't we have to survive in this world and use the ways of the world to do so?

Jesus shows us the way to be in the world without being of it. When we model our lives on his, a new world will open up for us. The Kingdom of Heaven will be ours, and the earth will be our inheritance. We will be comforted and have our fill; mercy will be shown to us. Yes, we will be recognised as God's children and truly see God, not just in an afterlife, but here and now (see Matthew 5:3-10). That is the reward of modelling our lives on the life of Jesus!

Trees, twirling skirts, mental health and dreams

I've been dreaming about trees nearly every night this week. Not trees of the leafy variety, full, blooming with life, but old and twisted trees, beautiful in their own, stately sort of way. Rugged, black and white sort of images - very Ansel Adams'esque. Trees that have faced the varied elements and challenges thrown at them by nature and still found a way to stand. I don't know what the dreams mean, why these images have reappeared over and over, but there is a deep beauty, peace and strength in the images. I'm putting a picture that I found on a google search in here, to give you a sort of idea of what I've been seeing every night as I sleep.



I'm thinking a lot this week about freedom. About really stepping out into that. Every time I talk with Jesus about freedom in my life lately, I begin to see the same picture. I am alone in a field, a sunlit, beautiful place. I am wearing a twirling skirt and dancing freely, spinning around and around and around in sheer joy. As I go through my week I find myself unconsciously looking for fields, wanting to spin, to dance, to step into that freedom. When I shop these days, I'm keeping my eyes open for a very feminine, bohemian sort of twirling skirt, for that coming moment of freedom.

I had a conversation with my mom tonight, and I'm thinking again about homelessness and mental health issues. It would seem that one of my uncles has again been arrested (this time for trespassing in a public place - sleeping in a bathroom), and instead of jail, they've committed him to a mental health facility for a length of time. He's bipolar, and had gone off his meds before this current episode. You kind of have to have all of the background, but my mom's family is full of weird dynamics and unstable people. You think rather differently about homelessness when one of your family members is living on the streets of some major US cities. You tend to think differently about mental illness when you've visited a family member in a mental health facility, because it was their last resort.

Those are the things on my mind tonight. Dreams, twisted trees full of strength and beauty. Freedom and twirling skirts. Mental health and homelessness.

(images are from here and here).

Retreat

Retreat
1. the forced or strategic withdrawal of an army or an armed force before an enemy, or the withdrawing of a naval force from action.

2.	the act of withdrawing, as into safety or privacy; retirement; seclusion.

3.	a place of refuge, seclusion, or privacy: The library was his retreat.

(dictionary.com)

Any good historian will tell you that there are times in the midst of battle in which one must retreat, withdraw, regroup.

I think that's where I'm living right now. Since the new year, my life has been a battle of proportions I've never before encountered, and at this juncture I find myself exhausted and in need of a chance to withdraw into safety, to find a place of refuge and seclusion.

I don't know anymore if that is the wisest course of action, but it is the course of action I've chosen for a bit.

I'm curled up inside myself, hiding from reality in novels, losing myself in the lives of characters for whom, if life does not turn out perfect, there is almost always a perfectly obvious redeeming characteristic or event readily available.

I'm regrouping, asking myself questions I thought long settled, that have been stirred by events of the past week. I'm wondering what my answers are to the questions "who am I?" and "what am I made for?" I would have told you that I could answer those, but someone close to me told me a week ago that I could not, that I used pretty words to answer, that served to cover "aimless maturing" and "unfocused passion". I am deeply stung by this accusation, and find myself questioning even the things that seem most simple and true in my supposed answers.

I am thinking this week about the story of the treasure buried in the field, and the pearl of great price, and the man who gave up everything to obtain that one thing. It feels as if there are things that will cost me dearly in front of me, in order that I might obtain that one true treasure.

I'm wondering at my own growing intuition and awareness of things that would seem to exist only in the spiritual realm. I was shopping in a trendy neighborhood with my mom last weekend, visiting a clothing consignment shop that shared space with a new age/occult bookstore and crystal shop. I noticed the sign advertising psychics in the back of the book portion of the shop, but paid little attention as I headed towards the door. My mom paused to look at something that had caught her eye, and I paused alongside her. A gentleman approached me and asked if I was "Nicole" (I think that's the name he used). Everything inside me instantly tensed, the spiritual part of me jumping back. This perfectly jovial, rotund late middle-aged gentleman had incited an unexpected response. Looking back, I'm quite sure that he was one of the advertised psychics. (Which brings to mind the old joke about psychics - "if he was truly psychic, why didn't he know who the person was that was to meet him?")

I'm surprised by the directions God has led my thoughts and prayers. I took a long walk on Saturday morning in Fish Creek Park, taking time to pray and prepare myself for an encounter I was dreading later in the day. I was slightly surprised to find myself unable to pray for that situation, and delighted as Jesus led me through a long period of interceeding for friends all over the world, before very naturally walking with me through my own requests for that day and the next weeks and months.

I feel in retreat. I'm taking a few moments to regroup, to try and rest, to focus less on the intensity of the things going on in my life. I'm working through the very mundane tasks on my "to-do" list for this week. Things like cleaning the bathroom, laundry, tidying my desk, emptying the garbage pail in my bedroom, watching a rented DVD, and updating the playlists on my ipod. I'm making space for reading and studying, but also space for novels, movies, and the relationships I'm involved in that are life-giving.

I feel oddly off balance when it comes to writing. Like there are a million things to say and at the same time absolutely nothing worth saying.

If the blog is quiet this next week or so, you now know why!

A Barrage of Henri Nouwen

Okay, so I haven't had time to post them before now, but here's a hole bunch of gems from Nouwen that have arrived in my inbox over the last week and a half. Hope you enjoy them!

The Breath of God Within Us

When we speak about the Holy Spirit, we speak about the breath of God, breathing in us. The Greek word for "spirit" is pneuma, which means "breath." We are seldom aware of our breathing. It is so essential for life that we only think about it when something is wrong with it.

The Spirit of God is like our breath. God's spirit is more intimate to us than we are to ourselves. We might not often be aware of it, but without it we cannot live a "spiritual life." It is the Holy Spirit of God who prays in us, who offers us the gifts of love, forgiveness, kindness, goodness, gentleness, peace, and joy. It is the Holy Spirit who offers us the life that death cannot destroy. Let us always pray: "Come, Holy Spirit, come."

Jesus' Freedom

Jesus was truly free. His freedom was rooted in his spiritual awareness that he was the Beloved Child of God. He knew in the depth of his being that he belonged to God before he was born, that he was sent into the world to proclaim God's love, and that he would return to God after his mission was fulfilled. This knowledge gave him the freedom to speak and act without having to please the world and the power to respond to people's pains with the healing love of God.

That's why the Gospels say: "Everyone in the crowd was trying to touch him because power came out of him that cured them all" (Luke 6:19).

Jesus' Compassion

Jesus is called Emmanuel which means "God-with-us" (see Matthew 1: 22-23). The great paradox of Jesus' life is that he, whose words and actions are in no way influenced by human blame or praise but are completely dependent on God's will, is more "with" us than any other human being.

Jesus' compassion, his deep feeling-with us, is possible because his life is guided not by human respect but only by the love of his heavenly Father. Indeed, Jesus is free to love us because he is not dependent on our love.

Jesus' Self-Portrait

Jesus says: "Blessed are the poor, the gentle, those who mourn, those who hunger and thirst for uprightness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted in the cause of uprightness" (Matthew 5:3-10). These words offer us a self-portrait of Jesus. Jesus is the Blessed One. And the face of the Blessed One shows poverty, gentleness, grief, hunger, and thirst for uprightness, mercy, purity of heart, a desire to make peace, and the signs of persecution.

The whole message of the Gospel is this: Become like Jesus. We have his self-portrait. When we keep that in front of our eyes, we will soon learn what it means to follow Jesus and become like him.

Jesus is Poor

Jesus, the Blessed One, is poor. The poverty of Jesus is much more than an economic or social poverty. Jesus is poor because he freely chose powerlessness over power, vulnerability over defensiveness, dependency over self-sufficiency. As the great "Song of Christ" so beautifully expresses: "He ... did not count equality with God something to be grasped. But he emptied himself, ... becoming as human beings are" (Philippians 2:6-7). This is the poverty of spirit that Jesus chose to live.

Jesus calls us who are blessed as he is to live our lives with that same poverty.

Jesus is Gentle

Jesus, the Blessed One, is gentle. Even though he speaks with great fervor and biting criticism against all forms of hypocrisy and is not afraid to attack deception, vanity, manipulation and oppression, his heart is a gentle heart. He won't break the crushed reed or snuff the faltering wick (see Matthew 12:20). He responds to people's suffering, heals their wounds, and offers courage to the fainthearted.

Jesus came to bring good news to the poor, sight to the blind, and freedom to prisoners (see Luke 4:18-19) in all he says, and thus he reveals God's immense compassion. As his followers, we are called to that same gentleness.