Day 40: The Holy Hole

 

Last year, I christened this day as Poplar Sunday. It was my way of finding spiritual relevance in my place in the planet instead of depending on a tropical narrative that really didn't inspire me.  

The poplar leaves aren't out yet, in fact, this morning, we had another dusting of snow.  So the imagery is out of season, but does it really matter.  I just want something from my Canadian world to relate to.  Is that so much to ask? 

This coming week, I am asked if I can embrace the lack.  Does that also mean that I get to embrace the struggle as well.  I read that somewhere.  I wonder if the idea of peace still can include struggle.  I personally think it's a pipe dream that I have all this figured out.  That is why I call it a journey.  And in reality... a journey with no real destination at the end.  Maybe that imagery looks more like aimless wandering, but what if that is all that life is... aimless wandering.  

My life can be the poster of aimless wandering.  I didn't grow up with a big academic dream that I brought to fruition a few years out of high school.  I just grew up and found things to do.  I remember telling my nephew something like this.  "If you can't figure out what you want to do when you "grow up"... just do something."

I can tell him again that maybe all of life is about "just doing something". Maybe it's okay of some of us we never "grow up".  The world needs some people to be focused performers, and the world also needs people on a journey.  

I woke up this morning with a muddle of thoughts in my brain.  I wondered if any of them will find a place of rest.  I wonder what it would look like for me to just wake up and be okay to just be.  Maybe that is the lack in my life.  Maybe that is the "holy hole"...   Interesting...  Mmmmm... 

Day 39: A day for Fools

 

It is evening again, which is a good indicator that I am losing steam with the AFL content.  At the beginning, I had inspiration in the morning and now... not so much.  

Today, there is inspiration of another kind.  It is the beginning of April and someone somewhere decided to give today over to "Fools".  According to Google sources, the tradition of April Fools goes back to the Middle ages.  I don't know.  I can't say I had great memories of April Fools Day as a child.  I was always the brunt of jokes... but I don't remember them from classmates... I remember them from my mother.  Mom like April Fools and didn't waste too many opportunities to mess with us on that day.  Mothers are to be trusted, so I had no problem falling for Mom's misdirections every years. 

I didn't call her today.  I figure today is a good day not to have a conversation with my mom, because I don't know if I can still trust her on this day.  Maybe she has let that sly side of her dissipate with age... but why take the chance. 

I did something today. I started a book fast.  I am fasting from reading books for a year.  How's that for a good April Fool's gag.  We will see how long it lasts.  I am hoping that a year away from books will give me a renewed interest in reading again.  My passion has waned and it depresses me.  I share more about this in my book blog.  

If books are the road to wisdom, maybe going without them for a year is the road to foolishness.  So today is a good day to start this journey.  

Day 38: What's so "good" about Good Friday?

 

One week until Christianity's National Day of Mourning.  I would call it Good Friday, but after how I spend the day last year, I don't think "Good" makes any sense to me know.  I wonder if the "Good" part of Friday is linked to the atonement theory of the crucifixion.  What else do Christian see as good about the bloody two thousand year old narrative? 

I googled this question and came up with a lot of Christian websites.  I can imagine they are all going be sharing the same answer. So I didn't bother look.  

I can understand if this day was kept within the confines of the church calendar, but it is a national statutory holiday. How do the rest of Canadians see Good Friday?  What kind of questions are they asking as to what this day actually means for them.   

Last year, it wasn't so good.  Last year is when I had a burial ceremony for Jesus and I didn't bring him back to life in two days.  Next year, my 56th birthday lands on Good Friday, so I will be asking that question from a different perspective.  

Anyway... I have no answer, so I will call it Christianity's national day of mourning.  After all, that is what they do ever year.  It seems strange.  How authentic can it  be when every year, they bring Jesus back to life in two days.  Are they really mourning, or is it just a redundant ritual?  Good question.  I  have my thoughts on that, but I don't think I will be too vocal about them.  

Rob Bell, says it is the day that God becomes an atheist.  How's that for irony.  I wish I still had a grain of confidence in the words of Jesus... because then maybe I could find some inspiration in them.

"My God, My God... why have you forsaken me?"  Like Rob Bell said... the day God became an atheist.  

Day 37: Two Flowers

 

Now I know why I have tolerated being misunderstood.  It requires too much emotional energy to educate others about who I really am. 

But how much do I tolerate?  When is enough?  When will I feel justified in causing a scene so I can feel more known? 

I couldn't even make a scene at my own birthday party.  At the risk of making it a 100% painful event, I tolerated what I had to in order to make it a 90% enjoyable party.  But today... that ten percent came back to mind and I spend about a half an hour in the hot tub releasing the emotions that stuffed in the back just so I can have some time with my family.  

I risked a lot yesterday.  I risked being rejected.  I risked being ignored.  I risked my creativity and wisdom being swept under the table.  

But not everyone swept my offerings under the table.  I got to spend a few moments in a sweet discussion about the words I shared.  I understand that you can throw a whole bag of seed into the wind and only get one or two flowers.  Maybe those two flowers are beautiful on their own.  Maybe I don't need all the seed to germinate.  But something in me still wish it had.  

Day 36: Sharing Space

 So today was a wash for anything AFL related.  Today is my birthday and I had better things to do than dive deep with the reading material... so I will pick it up tomorrow.  

Today I was trying to understand myself.  I am trying to figure out what is really important in my moments and wondering if I can learn some valuable lessons from the past.  I don't want to be that person who needs to burn all their mementos and discard their memories from their Christian past.  I have given away a lot of those things I no longer find value in, but I haven't garbaged them.  I am taking this journey very differently and I still wonder if I am being true to myself.  Can I share space with my family and friends who are still Christian.  Can I sit and observe and just release any temptation to judge what I am observing?  Can I just be with my Mom in her space?  Why not?  Mom and Dad were able to be themselves in my space.  They came into a very different faith culture back in the day and were able to maintain their own culture.  Why can't I do the same for my Mom?

I thought today that maybe I can just let everyone else be who they need to be.  I don't need to perform alongside to be alongside.  I can be grateful in a different way, and invite my family into those expressions of gratitude, as I discovered today.  My family needed to pray before the meal we shared... and that is something I don't do, but I still needed to express some gratitude for the people who provided the meal.  So I got a thank you card for the restaurant staff, and had everyone sign it.  In my way... that was my prayer.  I was saying thank you to those who provided my meal.  I didn't explain it that way to my family... but they unknowingly participated and thought that was a beautiful gesture.  We got to share space.  

Maybe that is all I can do... be myself, let others be themselves and together we can share space.  

Day 35: Creeds

 

It's almost bedtime and I haven't written my daily blog yet.  I have been procrastinating.  For a good portion of the day, the chat room has been a buzz on the subject of creeds.  I was taken back a few decades when "The Apostle's Creed" was something that was ingrained in my memory.  We recited it often at Lutheran services like mindless drones.  There was nothing personal to me and when I stopped saying it and started listening to the others recite it, all I could hear was monotonous cadence.  Nothing in the recitation of the creed at all convinced me that anyone one was personally invested in its message.  It was only tradition.  

I am grateful to be beyond the necessity of traditional recitations like "The Apostle's Creed".  But I am still sad to hear people fall into the cadence of the recitation, when I know that they are personally invested in their faith.  It is truly beyond understanding.  

Day 34: The torment of saying nothing

"It was the beginning of a long period of nausea, in which the only thing greater than the pain of talking was the torment of saying nothing."  Richard Boothby (Blown Away) 

I decided to go in a different direction with Richard Boothby today.  I have already heard his Wake discussions and found them fascinating.  But something that catches my attention about Richard Boothby more than his philosophy. It is his story.  Which is why I went to "Blown Away" instead of "Embracing the Void".  I read the first two chapters and stopped.  Do I really need to read another story of someone who's son died?  Am I just torturing myself again.  What exactly am I looking for in one more story?   And then I found it in the above quote.  I am still tormented by the silence.  

If writing my story was enough, then I wouldn't be so tormented.  I wrote my story.  I just wasn't able to tell it.  No...wait...  it wasn't about me telling my story... it was about a story I am still waiting from them.  There is the torment of silence.  It was their son that died and it is their silence that torments me.  

I can't ask my family to open up their wounds in order for my torment to end.  I long for their story, but at what expense if they are not ready to tell it.  I guess that's why I am still drawn to stories like Richard Boothby's.  He was able to see that staying silent was worse than reliving his story in order to share it.  If someone has gone through the agony of walking down those dark corridors in their memory, then maybe I can find time to embrace the holiness of their story.  Maybe it isn't about how many more stranger's stories do I get to read before I can read the story of my own family.  Maybe I get to keep  reading one more because their story still matters to me.