Planning or Bust

Guess what I learned today? Thinking about planning doesn't actually equate to planning.

That's one of my goals this year. To become a planner. And when I realized that was a goal, I felt all proud of myself for it, for deciding to do it, for planning to plan. Because, the flip side of being a very in-the-moment-all-present person is that I'm often not a very good planner. One minute it's Sunday, and the next thing I know, it's Friday. And it goes from being August to April in about 2-point-5 seconds.‎ So, I bought a calendar this year, hung it on my closet door where I must look at it every day a couple of times, and decided to mark each day off every night. I figured, at a bare minimum, that would at least force me to anchor into where I'm at in the month, in the year, in the week ... or at least remember what day it is. And I have high hopes I might actually get some birthday cards out on time this year. Hope springs eternal in the human heart....

So, one of my goals for this weekend, this beautiful MLK Jr. holiday weekend, was to go to the beach. I wanted to sit by the water, watch the waves, spend some time talking to God, and then take out a pen and paper and think about bigger goals for this year, for my 30s, for what kind of person I want to become. I planned to plan.

And then, I had a lazy Saturday, went to two birthday parties Saturday night, and felt the need to veg out when I got home, staying up to watch OC reruns. So, Sunday morning I decided I'd sleep in and go to the beach this morning. And then last night, I stayed up late watching the Golden Globes, and then somehow felt that it was very important that I also watch interviews from the red carpet rerunning on the E! channel. And then I slept in this morning, and by the time I put two and two together about commitments for my day, I realized I'd have about 1.5 hours of beach time in which I was to reflect and plan and pray. And somehow, rushed reflection time seems oxymoronic.

So, I had a little planning crisis meeting with me, myself, and I this afternoon. Members who showed up to the meeting included, in no particular order: shame, regret, self-punishment, and anxiety. They are terrible candidates to have at a meeting with yourself, by the way. "Self?!" I thought, "How is it, self, that you've had an entire 3 day weekend, and that one of your only goals for it was to have a planning/prayer session at the beach, and here it is, almost over, and you never did it?! What is WRONG with you, self???!" Like I said, not fun. But, thanks to the gracious comfort and company of my roommate, who I invited to the meeting as well, realizing the ambush I was experiencing, I had a new realization.

Thinking about planning does not actually equal planning. And maybe I needed to hit a little "mini-rock-bottom" as my roomie and I laughingly called it in order to actually do this planning thing. Because I have never been much of a planner. So, I realized it makes sense that I'm not all that good at it yet. And, as my very wise mother always tells me, "most things are difficult before they are easy." So, maybe I'm still a toddler in my development as a planner, falling down more than I stand.

But, I'm learning how to do it. Slowly. With lots of mistakes. Eventually, Grace and Patience stepped into the meeting and performed a little coup' d'etat. They are very strong, and it only takes a couple of them to boot the others out the door. Now, I'm scratching this whole experience off as a little planning-rock-bottom.

So, the planning session is yet to happen. But, it will. It will. Very soon, I will go to bed at a decent hour and get up in morning sunlight and grab my Bible, a notepad, and a cup of coffee. I'll drive to the ocean and watch the waves and pray. Maybe I'll have a couple more setbacks. Maybe another episode or two of The OC will have their way before I triumph. Change is difficult, after all. But, just like the waves, my soul is connected to a Bigger Gravity, a gracious, loving Gravity. And He, this God of mine, is teaching me patience, and persistence, and how to get up each time I fall. And over and over again, He pulls me back to Himself.

Before I go - because I've made new plans for this day, you know :) - I must share a quote from the rock of a soul that is MLK Jr., in honor of his incredible and inspiring life today. I've been chewing on these words all week long, ever since a dear friend shared them with me.  They are some of the most profound, truth-filled words I've read in a very long time. Thank you, Martin Luther King Jr.....

"When our days become dreary with clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice."

Happy MLK Jr. Day, beloveds.

Change and A Lazy Saturday

It is 78 degrees outside.  I don't share this to brag, for anyone who may be reading this in much colder conditions.  Well, actually, maybe I am bragging just a little.  But I take no credit for it.

Nonetheless, them's the temps, and so I'm taking advantage of the temperate weather and sitting outside, revisiting this dear old friend of a blog, and drinking a cup of coffee on a very lazy Saturday.

And to set the scene, I thought I'd share a few pictures of my current environs....

Wide blue sky in front of me....

And golden sky behind.

Meet Jasper.  

He is sitting below me staring up at me with all of the world's sufferings in his eyes.

He is a wise old soul trapped in a dog's body that very closely resembles 

Gandalph from Lord of the Rings.  Check it out:

And then, of course, there's Charlie.  I put him on the coffee table to slow him down and to keep him from barking incessantly at the rustling of leaves that apparently poses a great threat to our home's welfare.  He finds standing on glass frightening.  And he tends to sit there, motionless, until I bring him down.  Also, notice the aforementioned coffee.  Yum.

And here's me ... or atleast, one half of me.....

So, that's the current scene.

I have to say, I'm loving this sunshiney day ... just as much as I loved Christmas, just as much as I loved the snow that fell endlessly on Flagstaff a few weeks ago as I headed back to California, just as much I loved the beautiful, peach flesh leaves of Fall.

I think what it comes down to is that I am a Seasons Girl through and through.  I need them, the seasons.  I really do.  I need the visible, tangible reminders about cycles of life.  I need the too-hotness of Summer (remind me of this when I am blogging about third degree burns from my seat belt, ok?) to make me all the more grateful for the sweet cooling down of Fall.  I need Fall's golds and reds to remind me that even the process of loss can have so much beauty in it.  I need the way the world grows quiet during Winter.  I need the blossoms that form without anyone knowing it when all around seems dead, and then bloom one day - unexpectedly - into bright, bursting, colorful shouts of glory that life is back, that Winter was just a comma, not the period.

Sometimes I wonder about the juxtapositions of life, about how often true, deep appreciation for what we have requires the contrast with what we don't have.  It's that whole mantra about how sometimes you have to lose something in order to know how much it meant to you.  Summer makes you appreciate Fall, and Winter does the same for Spring, and around and around we go.  Why is that?  Why can't we see things for what they are while we have them?  I don't know.  I don't know that I'll ever know.  But I do know that this seems to be the case.  I do know that absence really does make the heart grow fonder, and that, for whatever reason, we humans seem to need the tension of loss and emptiness in order to enjoy the blessing of gain and fullness.  I don't always like that reality, but I've found it to be true.

My days, as of late, have felt more empty than full.  I know this sounds terribly depressing, and I suppose it sort of is.  But, it's where I'm at.  And I'm an honest gal.  So, there you have it.  It's not that I don't have really beautiful blessings in my life.  I do.  I really do.  I have dearer than dear friends.  I have a good job in which I get to help people.  I have health and intelligence and a supportive family.  I've got lazy Saturdays.  I've got my mother's full lips.  I've got hope.

But some significant parts of my life are changing, and other parts that I wish would change keep droning on, always staying the same, no matter how hard I cajole, no matter how much I try to manipulate them otherwise, no matter how many pennies I throw into the fountain.  And that makes the change that I see coming around the bend that much harder to hold.  Sometimes, it is this kind of change - the kind that happens subtley and slowly - that can be hardest to process.  Because it's hard to grieve something that is still in front of you.  Am I sounding all cryptic and mysterious?  I don't mean to be.  I just don't really wanna write about the details of the matter, because, really, it's more about the experience of recognizing that nothing is permanent that I'm trying to process.

And, these days, this lack of permanence has been feeling like a sad thing, because it's leaving me with the empty spaces of Winter.  And the world is too quiet.  And I long for Spring.  Which is why today's clear blue skies feel like such a sweet mercy.

But, yesterday, I had a new realization, a little blossom of spring in my soul, amidst the too-quiet.  Yesterday, I felt a new kind of hope growing in me about this lack of permanence, about the ever-changingness-of-life.  Life sort of forces you to keep your hands open, if you're honest.  It sort of forces you to hold all things loosely, even the things and people you love the most.  And, all of us, when honest, will admit that loss is a scary thing.  But, the other side of this coin is that change is always possible.  And, as scary as it can be to uproot, it's the only act that will eventually allow one to plant something new.  I know these are platitudes, the kind of platitudes that would probably make me want to smack someone in the face if they said them to me in the wrong moment.  I know that.  But I feel like - in learning how to live with empty spaces - I'm earning the right to say them, at least to say them to myself.  Because I'm living out their truth.  I can't explain why the realization hit me yesterday; nothing specific triggered it.  I think maybe I just walked out far enough into the pain of the unknown that I started to sense it.  Like a star peaking out through the darkness, I could feel in a new way the world of possibility that comes with open-handedness.  And I felt less afraid of it, because as temporary as joy is, so also is pain and loss a temporary thing.  And uprootedness holds a new kind of freedom. 

So, that is how I'm holding the longing.  I'm trying to take flight with it, to rest upon what I can't see, upon Who I can't see, and to hold my palms wide open and let good come and go and then come again.  There's a freedom in it, when one looks loss square enough in the face.  Because it doesn't kill you, no matter how much it hurts.  It doesn't kill you.  And you become less afraid of it and start to see the potential.  That was the hope that snuck into my heart and caught me by surprise yesterday.  Who knows what awaits....

What I do know is that today, I feel less like a tree and more like a bird.  I'm falling out into wide open space, trusting in what I cannot see, waiting for what I don't yet know.

i always come back

Well, apparently "the next couple of days" = 1 year and 3 days. Apparently, that's what that meant.

Oh folks, I know. I know. I've been gone. For a long, long time. And the thing is, if I wait until I have the energy to explain my absence, I have a sneaking suspicion I'll just never start again. So, I don't have much of an explanation for you. Not yet. But, I'm sure the reasons will show themselves as the blog posts continue. Seeds grow.

So, as you can see, in order to mark my homecoming, I've gotten myself a shiny new blog "outfit." I was going for a Christmas-y feel. I hope that comes across. Speaking of, I am feeling so ready for Christmas. And that is rare for me. I'm usually the one shaking my head in disbelief at the department store Christmas displays in October. But, not this Christmas. I started listening to Christmas music a few days ago. And it's not even Halloween. And I feel totally unapologetic about it. I can't explain exactly why, accept to say that I think I'm more aware than ever of my need for Christmas. Or, rather, more specifically, for the Christ child. I need birth. I need hope. I need Christmas.

You see, since last I ventured into this quiet space, a lot has happened. And since I don't have the energy to write at length about it all, I offer you the nutshell version: I got a job. And I moved into a new home. In a new city (still in Los Angeles, though). And I got new roommates. That all happened within about a 3 week period last Fall. Hence, my absence. And then this job scooped me right up, like a sled on snow, and I've been trying to catch my breath ever since. Anyway, there you have it: one year in one paragraph. There's more. You know, there's always more. But, that's what I can offer tonight. Because I have something much more important on my heart. And I need to sit with it for a few minutes here.

Disclaimer: I do therapy. With kids. And their families. And most of them are very, very poor. And their families are very, very broken. And I haven't quite yet figured out how to enter into their stories and sit with their broken, and not come out of it a little heavier with all the broken. That's part of why I haven't written. Because who wants to read post after post of "I'm too tired...this shit sucks...why didn't I get a degree in photography instead...I've got nothing else to offer because I gave it all away today?!" That's not such fun reading. So, my disclaimer is that sometimes, in this space, I'm gonna be a bit of a Debbie Downer. I'm sorry. It's just where I'm at. And today's post is an example of that. OK, don't say I didn't warn you....

So, an acquaintance of mine from grad school died this week. (I told you.) She was 5 years younger than me. And last Saturday, she made a post on Facebook about how she was having neck spasms and was hoping some muscle relaxants would help. And Sunday night, she went to the hospital because she was having trouble breathing. And Monday morning, she died. Doctors think she acquired a rapidly advancing, viral lung infection. And while - as I said - she was not a close friend of mine, I've thought about her all week. And I can't believe that last week, at this time, she was here, and now she's not. And she was young and beautiful. And it doesn't seem real. And then, tonight, I talked to a dear, dear friend. Her mother has been battling cancer for several years now. And yesterday, they found out that the cancer is spreading and that her internal organs are starting to shut down. And last night, after getting that news, her mother fell while walking in her home, thought nothing of it, went to bed, and today, she was taken to the hospital with a brain hemmorrage. Tonight, my dear friend told me that doctors do not expect her mother to make it through the night.

Seriously, I told you. I've got big stuff on my heart.

All this sudden death has stopped me in my tracks. And it's made me miss my family. And want to hug my friends. And I just feel so, so aware right now of how fleeting life is. A breath. And, so, I'm writing here, in this space. Because writing is a part of really *living* for me. And I'm feeling a renewed awareness of how much I need to *live* all of these precious, precious days.

Tonight, when I got home, I felt a strong sense of urgency. And I wasn't even entirely sure as to what I felt urgent about ... other than that I knew I needed to live life intentionally. I avoided TV, Facebook, and all of the other brain-escapes I often turn to, and just sat down, in the quiet, and thought a little, and tried to digest it all. And as I did, my sweet Charlie curled into my chest, and fell asleep ... a warm, rhythmic mass of breath and fur. And I began to think about how much I want to capture the moments of my life, to really *see* them, before they pass. How I want to remember what it's like to have Charlie's cadence of breathing against my own. How I want to memorize the voices of my parents. How, I want to ask those I love all the questions I'll want to ask them - but won't be able to - after they're gone. I long for some sort of life-size scooper, in which I can encompass it all: my moments...the people I most love...time.

And even as I wish for it, I know it can never be so. I know - in some inner place - that I cannot capture life. Life is not capture-able. It's infinite. And that's what makes it Life. Our bodies - though great little containers - can't keep it in. It's the spark that shines out of our eyes. And the blood that rages through our vessels. And the breath that recycles through our lungs. And when our bodies wear out, even then, Life finds a way out. And it keeps on living. Death cannot capture it. So, why would I think that I could?

Maybe that's not the point of living. To capture it. Maybe I waste energy on such futile attempts. Maybe the very essence of life is that it is not mine, or yours, that it's not own-able. Maybe it just...IS. Like God. In the Psalms, God commands us to, "Be still, and know that I AM." And maybe I am to just take life - and all that comes with it - in. A breath. And then let it out again. Over and over again. And know that God IS. And that I am of Him. And so are you. And that is enough. More than enough, actually. That is abundance.

But this week, death sure seems like it's gotten the upper hand. And I think that's why I need Christmas.

SO MUCH LOVE to you all. XO

Milestones

So I payed off my car loan today. Now, granted, I bought it used, and it has over 100,000 miles on it. But, it's a Toyota and I'm crossing my fingers I've still got a few more years with it. And, it's all mine!! :) Seriously, though, this feels like a milestone, a small milestone, but a milestone nonetheless.

And I finished with all my clients at my clinic yesterday. I had all my last sessions and drove away sort of in shock that that milestone is now complete.

And my graduate degree should post any day now. Really truly, oh lovely registrar employees, would you PLEASE POST MY DEGREE ALREADY?! There, now that that's out of my system.

I feel like i'm in the middle of a lot of life transitions and milestones...

And soon, it will be on to the job search and the home search, and the school loans.

I've decided that there are two ways to look at this.

I can EITHER think to myself,

"Self (cause I do talk to myself, I admit), welcome to the rat race. You've paid off a loan, gotten a degree, moved out of a house. And now it's time to start paying off a new loan, work on the new professional milestone (accruing hours toward my license), and find a new place to move into that you will eventually move out of. Cheers."

(I know, cynical, huh? But those thoughts do come.)

OR,

I can say,

"Self. Take a moment. Stop. Rest. Enjoy the view. You did it. You paid off a loan. You moved out of a house. You learned how to sit with clients in their grief and stress and questions. And you did it on the days you felt like it AND (more importantly), on the days that you didn't. Yes, you made mistakes, several, actually. But you are persevering. Step by step, rung by rung, up you go. And now, as a reward, you have a whole new slew of places to experience, lessons to learn, milestones to walk toward. Keep on movin' sister. But take a moment, first. Stop. Celebrate what you've accomplished. Thank all who've helped you along the way. And smile at the joy of a life so rich in what matters."

I can say one of those two things to myself. And while I know that there's truth in the first way of thinking, I think there's much more love and life AND truth in the second way.

The second way it is.

Here's to a car that is all my own (mileage and all) and to the job applications to come!!! :)

A Moment From My Day

I got totally stopped in my tracks today ... by the color green. It was a leaf. A green leaf. It's funny how the most unexpected things can catch you sometimes. For me, today, it was a leaf. I was out on my morning walk, and my head was in a million places ... which happens when you move. Or, I should say, when I move. When I move, I usually find that I'm not totally present where I am, and yet, I'm also not present where I'm going to end up. And my head seems to compensate for that lack of presence by being in all the space in between the two.

So, there I am, walking, with my all over the place head, and I notice a leaf as I walk past. And there was just something about the green of it ... it was this very alive, vibrant green, and it was just THERE, BEING. And it literally stopped me, that color, and I just stood there for a minute, looking at it.

I've been thinking a lot lately about BEING versus DOING. I got to thinking about it during that last week of grad school (maybe some of that homework paid off after all!) as I was contemplating God as BEING, versus God as DOING. And, in my reading, I came across this fabulous passage by a Brazilian theologian named Leonardo Boff. I've been chewing on his words ever since, and so I think I'm gonna jot them down here ... you know, in case you'd like to chew with me:

Boff writes, "...So God is best represented as a living, an action eternally "producing" the divine reality, making it manifest, with no need to reply to the question: why live? God lives to live, in absolute spontaneity, in the self-evident meaning of light that shines to shine, clear spring water that gushes to gush, the bird that sings to sing..."

I've read that passage over and over again and am finding so much freedom in it. For much of my 20s, I struggled to figure out what I was supposed to do with my life. And I still get bogged down, sometimes, with all the decisions that surround planning and general life organization/strategy. But, then I read passages like this, and it wakes me up again. Could it be that I -- like my Creator -- live to live? Is it enough simply that I sing to sing, and dance to dance, and write to write, and love to love, and cook to cook, and listen to listen, and breathe to breathe? Could it be that God smiles at our BEING, just like He IS? There's something about this idea that feels very "whole" to me.

I'm not dissing DOING. I know there's a place in life for DOING. If none of us DID, well, there wouldn't be much. DOING is important. I have to move for example. I have to. Or perfect strangers will invade my bedroom and carry me out. And so, I have to make plans, look for new housing, search for jobs. These are all valid and important DOINGS.

But today, as I was walking along, planning and thinking and just generally mulling lots of ideas over and over in my head, green reached out and grabbed me, and anchored me back into the here and now. I stopped and stared at that leaf, at its intricate system of veins, at its beautiful bold color. And I was still for a few moments. And my soul took a good, long breath.

I'm coming to believe that life is this beautiful, endless cycle of doing and being. And when we fall too far to one side of that equation, sometimes green will reach out and grab us.

Metacommunication

Well,

I am on post 92, or so blogger says ... which means that I am only 8 posts away from 100. And I know -- rationally -- that 100 is just as arbitrary a number as 101, or 174, or 2,106, but somehow, those decade numbers always seem more significant. And I have to say, the approach of blog entry 100 gets me thinking about this whole blogging thing.

I've loved having a blog so far, but I've been wondering lately if perhaps I write with my audience too much in mind ... not that I NECESSARILY know who's reading this blog. I suppose there could be people that I don't know reading it, people who connect, on a human level, with the stories of my life. But, regardless of who reads it, I can't shake the feeling that I need to be less aware of who's reading it and concentrate on just bringing my voice to the table.

It would make sense that I focus on my audience, as that tends to be the way I live my life. I am an adapter, always have been. Perhaps it comes from being the "baby" of the family. Or perhaps God just gave me extra sensitive feelers. Whatever the reason, up until a few years ago, I gauged my actions according to the expectations and anticipated reactions of others.

Then, a very wise man I was dating at the time told me that I needed to live truthfully and full of love, and not allow my actions to be shaped by the reactions of others. Funny, isn't? How one sentence, one day, has the capacity to shape our thinking for years to come....

Since then, I've been working on walking that balance between considering the responses/impacts/reactions of others and trying to living intentionally/honestly/joyfully without too much focus on the former.

Now, this is not to say that caring about how one's actions or words will impact another is a bad thing, inherently. It most certainly is not. I think -- like many things -- it's just a balance. And I tend toward one end of that spectrum.

Wow ... I meant to just focus on writing, but I ended up at philosophical pondering on reciprocity. It's late... :)

So, maybe my writing here won't change. Or maybe it will a bit. What I know is that I am going to try to bring even more of myself to this place. This space. And while I hope you enjoy what I bring, I'm gonna try not to think that far ahead....

Top 10 ... a blogging committment

Ok, so you know how when you mean to call someone, but you just don't, and then days pass, and then weeks, and then -- one day when you're looking up a recipe or making an appointment -- you realize that it's been months, and then you just feel so bad that you don't call, and then more months pass, and then you realize that it would have been better had you just called the first time you felt bad about not calling??

You know how that happens?

Well, that kinda sorta happened with this blog. My own blog. Weird.

I got back from my weekend in Tucson, and I meant to post pictures and write stories, but I got busy therapizing (that should be a word if it's not) and summer schoolizing, and so I didn't. And then I thought, 'Gosh, it's mid-September, I should get on my blog.' But I didn't because I felt like enough time had passed that now, when I did write, I needed to write something pretty substantial. And then school started, and tutoring started (the side job because I am just not busy enough), and therapizing continued, and somewhere in there I kept showering and trying to exercise and, you know, live.

And so, my poor little bloggy blog just sat here, all by her lonesome, outdated.

But I'm back. And I've decided to implement a lil' idea to keep myself blogging consistently ... at least for the next ten days. Why ten days, you say? Because in exactly ten days, I will be bidding bon voyage to my 20s, breaking the champagne bottle against my 30s, that's right ... celebrating the 3-0. And sometimes I'm excited about it, and sometimes I'm sad. And so, what better topic to get me back into the blogging swing of things than a countdown??

So, for the next ten days, I'll be posting EVERY day. Ten thoughts about turning 30.

So, without further ado....

I think I'm gonna started light-hearted, but it probably won't last long. The impending new decade brings out my sentimental side pretty quickly.

10. I am getting fine lines.

Growing up, every time I bought a new face wash or face lotion, I would read the backs of the containers to see what fabulous promises they'd make for me. And I'm not gonna lie, sometimes those impossible promises were the deal breakers for my purchase. And I can remember reading the phrase, "reduces fine lines," but I never really thought about what fine lines meant. I just knew that I didn't care too much about them.

And here's the thing: I've always said that I wanted laugh lines, little badges of life well-lived. And I still do, but it is weird to look in the mirror and see a slighty older version of me. I think I am just now beginning to believe that someday, I will get old (if I'm lucky). Which is probably good, because I think that belief will probably (hopefully) cause me to live more consciously.

BUT, in spite of my savoring of laugh lines, it should be said that now, I pay more attention to the face lotions that reduce fine lines.