Idealism

I have a love-hate relationship with idealism. I get all these big ideas in my head about saving the world and then when I realize I can't make much of a large-scale (or sometimes even small-scale) difference I get bitter and cynical. And hanging onto the hope of large-scale systemic change usually prevents me from being part of the small-scale change I can be part of, and, sadly, from really just relishing the moment I’m in now.

Anyhow, I told my boss the other day that next year for lent I thought I should give up idealism. "Hmm...," he said, "that sounds pretty idealistic to me." Drat.

And on a totally unrelated note (or maybe not)... this was a quote from my OT Writings professor, in the course syllabus, which I wanted to share (even though I had no illusions about seminary answering any questions...):

People sometimes comment ruefully that they thought seminary was going to answer their questions but in fact it leaves them with more questions than they had before. One presupposition of this comment is that the key or a key thing about the Christian life is that it means having the answers to questions; and I think that implies that Christian faith is a set of beliefs and answers. I think the Writings can help us see why this is not so.

• They set our lives not in the context of a set of beliefs but in the context of a story, and of some smaller stories, too.
• They set us in a relationship with God - a relationship of praise, lament, trust, repentance, and testimony.
• Thus, they rescue us from the limitations of what we believed already.

Fairy Godmother

I'm a Godmother! Now all I need is the sparkly wand. Meet Sydney (doing her best Rosie the Riveter impression)...


Also, if you like Sudoku, try Kakuro. It's insane. But don't try it unless you have an hour or so to to kill the first time.

Di'anu

I will probably butcher something about the meaning of Dayeinu in this, but here goes.

The word means "enough," in the sense of, "it would have been enough" or "it would suffice." There's a little song that goes with it, in the passover haggadah, in which each successive step of God's provision for the Israelites is recounted -- and punctuated with the claim that each of these steps, though not the whole shebang, per se, would have been sufficient:

Had God fed us with manna and not given us the Sabbath, Dayeinu!
Had God given us the Sabbath and not brought us to Mount Sinai, Dayeinu!
Had God brought us to Mount Sinai and not given us the Torah, Dayeinu!
Had God given us the Torah and not led us into the land of Israel, Dayeinu!

Dayeinu. It would have been enough. I love this concept because contentedness is usually something I have to remind myself about. Dayeinu. What I have, even if it is all I ever have, even if it all goes away tomorrow, is already so much that it would suffice. Even if I never get an iPod.

The second part of dayeinu I really liked was the explanation in the haggadah, which likened the whole process to acceptance of necessary baby steps, in the long process of getting to where we want to be. It's a very therapy (and AA)-oriented concept, which might be why I liked it so much. Each of the steps, alone, really weren't enough, at least in terms of getting the Israelites into, well, Israel, and completing what was begun. But they could never have gotten there, eventually, if they hadn't gone through each step along the way. So, the concept that even if what you have isn't enough, it's something, and being grateful for what it is will do a heck of a lot more to move you along there than sitting down on your butt and whining that you didn't get the whole thing handed to you on a silver platter. As my OT prof said, "it's not enough, but it's not nothing. And it is a gift from God."

I was talking about this with a classmate the other day, about the way that Christians often sit around and pray for something - something holy-sounding, of course; say, that God would change us, and make us more patient or kind or generous - and then protest when we're given an opportunity to take part in getting what we asked for, to do the work of changing, rather than waking up one day changed, which is what we thought we asked for. Or in her case, she was frustrated because she wants to be in a relationship but is afraid to practice dating, because it's scary and you have to be vulnerable and risk getting rejected a few times along the way and things like that.

So dayeinu: for the $&*$!# LA traffic because it gives me a chance to practice being patient; for people who irritate the snot out of me because it is a chance to practice being kind; for people who ask for my time, attention, and money because I have a chance to practice being generous with what I have been given; for G who makes me practice saying what is on my mind and not running away. Baby steps, being OK with where you're at in the process of getting to where you want to be, not knowing if you'll ever get there. Dayeinu. It is enough.

sailing

OK, so I have enough emotional distance on my Old Testament project now that I'm OK putting it up. But I took down the painting, in which I ended up printing a heart off the internet and pasting it in, because everything I drew looked like a headless pink turkey.

*****
“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.”

I happened upon that Louisa May Alcott quote a few years ago, and tucked it away. It captivated me, but I can’t say that I knew why at the time. I think I liked the idea that knowing that I was still a beginner – at so many things – made it OK to sail into a storm rather than stay in port, safe from wind and waves. And I liked the part about not being afraid.

I have never really thought of myself as a person who is afraid. I’ve traveled the world, tried new jobs, taken up sports and hobbies, returned to grad school at nearly 30. I project so much confidence that a roommate in college once admitted that I made her nervous, because I seemed to have it all together. You see, I have this thing about competence – I try new things, but only things that I know I can master. I don’t have to be put together, but I have to be in control of the things that aren’t put together, I have to have them in a big purse over my shoulder, to tuck them back into if they start to spill out. And if I can’t keep them tucked in, then I’d rather not show up, because I don’t want to be that vulnerable, and I wish I didn’t have to work out my issues on other people’s time. But I can’t keep it together, at least not for long stretches of time. I've always known this somewhere in my head, but these days life is reminding me of it a little much, in ways that are a little too personal. And it's scary. So most of the time, part of me wants to turn around and sail for safe harbor, so I can sit inside where it’s warm, maybe with a martini.

The Old Testament Writings live in the place where the reality of God meets the reality of life. They are not pretty, or neat, nor do they keep all of their issues tucked into a big purse out of sight. God is not a cosmic vending machine, where you put in your prayer, pull the lever, and out pops your little trinket or bag of Chee-tos. There is weeping and wailing, and hope and loss of hope, and cries that are met with “because I’m God and I said so, that’s why,” and cries that are met with silence. Nobody shows up all prettied up. All that the authors and characters can do is show up, and describe the world as they know it, and say that Yahweh is the Lord God, and that this broken, bleeding heart is all they have to give.

So I am doing bad art for my final project in this class. I could have written a paper. It would have engaged my head on the topic of showing up before God with a messy heart on a cracked plate, and it would have been succinct, and eloquent, and have tied together some points well and straightened out a few things knocking around in my brain from the quarter. But instead, I’m going to deliver my broken heart. I am not an artist, and it will frustrate me to try to translate my ideas onto a page in reds and blacks. It will not look like I want it to look. It will not speak to anyone the way I want it to speak. It will betray my incompetence. In that way, it will be my broken, bleeding heart. I am not afraid of storms. This is the world as I know it, Yahweh is the Lord God, and this is all I have to give.

Matzo Ball Soup

I went to a Passover seder tonight. I really enjoyed it - it was nice to get a deeper understanding of stories I saw acted out on felt boards in Sunday school (although the felt board stories usually focused more on Jesus than on the 10 plagues of Pharoah). I also really enjoyed the matzo ball soup. And, apparently, many other things, since I am so full right now I'm going to have to waddle to bed.

Anyhow, there was a liturgy in the middle of the Haggadah (I'm not actually sure if you call something a liturgy, if it's not in church, but that's how I'm choosing to explain it) where I learned the Hebrew word Di'anu, meaning "it would suffice." And that is your little teaser, which I will expand on tomorrow -- both the liturgy itself and why it was so compelling.

the green monster

So last week I had blog envy... and now I have iPod envy.

I had never used one until I borrowed G's to go running on the beach on a balmy Saturday afternoon (OK, so this LA place is growing on me little), and there was SO MUCH GOOD MUSIC ALL IN ONE PLACE! And no ads. 'Cause when you're running, ads really kill your motivation. And then my neighbor was going off about how her mini 'pod had revolutionized her life and all, as if it cooks for her and writes her papers and made her lose 20 pounds while eating only ice cream. OK, maybe it's not that amazing, but it was shiny, and full of good music, and I want one of these shiny musical things, even if it never does my laundry.

toot toot

Since I know Hannah will not toot her own horn about this... let me toot it a little for her. Her band, the Bittersweets, just got an email from a fairly prominent radio show host in Alabama, in which he heard a bit of their new album coming out in June and said that she sounded so good that she sounded just like Shawn Colvin in 1988. Actually, he said she "sounded more like Shawn than Shawn does," and said he was going to start playing the album as soon as they'd let him (it comes out in June).

In other tooting news, my friend Jessica, who I have known for 20 years, just produced another human being. I have other friends who have had babies, but this time feels different, somehow. It's ridiculous, I feel proud as if I had something to do with it or something, because I have known her since we were 10 and both new kids in the 5th grade with huge bangs and huge glasses, and the fact that we survived to be grownups together and have done much reflecting on the process along the way makes this a salient moment for me too.

Woo hoo! Consider yourselves tooted.

Anybody know a good joke?

OK, so I am really tired of being overly serious these days. Last quarter was too intense. Where has my stupid side gone off to? It's time for a trip up to Berkeley, maybe another Ugly Night Out. Maybe I should just wear those plaid pants to class Thursday? Hanging out with a bunch of therapists-in-training isn't helping. Nor is having too much free time to become inert this quarter. So I am soliciting jokes, pictures, memories, inside humor, taped recordings of Natalie's laugh, sock-puppet home videos, stories of public humiliation (mine or yours), basically anything good for a belly-laugh....