Easter has come (and gone), and Lent is over, which means I can now return to checking Facebook; and I did yesterday. It was weird. Apparently, they’ve rolled out more changes so my profile looks different. I totally missed out on everyone changing their profile pictures for marriage equality; though I’ve changed mine now (better late than never, right?). I’ve responded to messages that were weeks old as well as to things that were specifically on my profile, but I didn’t want to waste time going back to see whatever I’d missed.
Truth be told, aside from the regular posts by my dear mentor, Ruth, about being a newlywed while transitioning into retirement, I don’t think I missed much. Ruth’s posts usually make my day brighter, and even though we don’t see each other nearly enough, I still feel connected enough to her through Facebook to rejoice along with her.
I’m sorry if my other Facebook friends read this and feel left out because I didn’t “miss” your posts. But in all honesty, look at your activity. If you’re anything like I was before the hiatus, many of you are probably liking, sharing, and commenting with reckless abandon. How much of that goes deeper than engaging in virtual comment wars, and entertainment or gossip related communication? Do we really need to see photos of every single morsel of food you consume? And I can’t tell you how many dirty mirrors people are taking photos of themselves in. The nation is obviously in need of reduced Windex and Bounty prices to take care of the dirty mirror epidemic in our overly narcissistic culture.
This may come across as judgmental, and that’s not my intention. Before my hiatus, I was doing all of these things. I was using Facebook multiple times a day, convincing myself that I was “connected” to my “friends” by my activity on the site. But when I took a few steps back and had to put both time and thoughtful attention to letter writing, I realized how meaningless my Facebook activity was. And though I know several of my Facebook friends have my phone number, no one seemed to have a deep need to call me and share their meals or cute outfits. As someone who literally despises talking on the phone, I certainly didn’t feel the urge to do the same either.
These reflections have absolutely motivated me to change the way I participate in social media. While I’m technically back on Facebook, I’ll be changing a few things. Before I left Facebook, I used Runtastic for fitness tracking, and that was set to share all my fitness activities to my Facebook feed. And almost immediately before I left Facebook, I created a Goodreads profile. While I was away, I added more to Goodreads, and I switched from Runtastic to Daily Mile for fitness tracking.
Goodreads and Daily Mile are more positive uses of social media than Facebook because Goodreads encourages reading and discussion of books, and Daily Mile is an incredibly user-friendly and motivating way to track fitness activities I will definitely continue to use those forms of social media because they are much more positive influences on my personal development. As for cross-posting those activities to Facebook, I think I’ll refrain. First, I have links to both profiles conveniently located in the margins of this blog, and curious followers & readers are only one click away from checking my reading list or running stats. Secondly and more importantly, just as I was bent out of shape (i.e., painfully envious) of several friends’ pregnancy updates, I don’t want to create the same feelings in my friends who may not have the time or energy to read/exercise as much as I am right now. It’s there for the interested, and it’s still just as public as Facebook; but it won’t be flaunted about the same way.
As for my activity on Facebook, I’m not exactly sure how that’s going to go, and I don’t have any specific goals in mind. I don’t know if I’ll check it every day (though that is tempting). I’m certain I’ll keep my current setting of not receiving notifications and messages via my cell phone; so Facebook may not be the best way to reach me with time-sensitive requests. I will definitely continue to cross-post updates from this blog. I’m also sure I’ll post status updates, though I’m not exactly sure with what or how frequently, given my current thoughts on the issue.
Essentially I’ve come to realize that Facebook is virtual graffiti of our current culture. As such, it plays a significant role in understanding who we are as humans in this specific time and place of existence. But I would rather my Facebook feed be more than the self-absorption and consumption already overwhelmingly present from millions of others on the site. I want to offer more than that to anthropologists and virtual archaeologists who may dig through it all in 4,000 C.E. I want to make meaningful contributions to posterity with both my actual life and my virtual one. I think all of that may still be just as narcissistic as a self portrait in a dirty mirror; but my hope is that my Facebook feed will have more substance than what I was contributing before Lent.
How did your Lent go?
Just over a week ago, Jim over at The Running Father Blog posted a callout for transpersonal testimonies, and I took the bait. What follows is my personal testimony…of faith and doubt, of a childhood steeped in fear and abuse, of an adult living with the fallout, of many deaths, and of surviving.
Stages of Development
According to Erik Erikson’s Eight Stages of Human Development, the first thing we learn is either to trust or to mistrust. The easiest example is a parent responding to an infant’s cries. Whether the baby is hungry, tired, or needing a diaper change, the baby has a need, and it is communicating that need with shrill wails. If the parent responds to the baby’s cry with feeding, holding, or changing, then the baby learns to trust that the parent will provide and care for its needs. However, if the parent lets the baby wail and does not feed, hold, or change it, then the baby learns that it cannot trust the parent.
Because the parent is literally the whole world for a baby, this lesson of mistrust then influences the baby’s worldview (and according to Erikson, the potential for successfully mastering the subsequent stages of development as they come up). The subsequent stages of development are: autonomy vs. shame (in the toilet training timeframe), initiative vs. guilt (preschool aged), industry vs. inferiority (primary school aged), identity vs. role confusion (adolescence), intimacy vs. isolation (in young adulthood), generativity vs. stagnation (in middle age), and finally ego integrity vs. despair (in elder years).
It’s fairly safe to say that I was on the losing end of these stages until at least elementary school or adolescence. I essentially survived my childhood as best as I could, and my saving grace in my early life was being in school. Once I learned to count, I counted everything…all the time. Then once I learned to read (in Head Start), and was able to bring books home (in elementary school), I read…all the time. Counting and reading transported me from an unstable, scary home situation into a world of order, patterns, and escapism. Of course my parents, siblings, and school kids thought I was freakish for being a space cadet, tuning everything (and everyone) out most of the time and that I was a lazy loner for choosing to read alone over hanging out with the neighborhood kids.
By the time I was 11, I had a bike, interests of my own, and I had learned to avoid home at all costs, and that’s how I survived. Considering the trauma in my formative years, it’s no wonder I have a hard time trusting people even now, or the gravity of things I walk around with daily. I know I’m lucky to have survived my childhood, and I’m luckier still that I’m not locked away in an institution, either mental or prison. That’s not an exaggeration. I’m literally a statistical anomaly considering my socioeconomic, dysfunctional background.
Of course I’ve been to a variety of therapists, and you know what they say? All of them? “Well, you’re quite well adjusted!” No fucking shit, Sherlock. That I haven’t succumbed to homicidal rages, been successful with suicide, or fallen into the abyss of criminality either means I’m a moderately high functioning sociopath…or I’m okay in spite of everything I’ve experienced.
Snake Oil Salvation
When you take a young girl with my history and add an element of charismatic, evangelical Christianity to the mix, what you end with is a girl who’s suffered unspeakable things thinking she was born damned into the world and deserving of her tragic lot in life. And that’s a goddamned shame.
Drawn to Christianity’s promise of eternal love, I ran to, begged, and pleaded with God to save me…or to let me die. I remember being nine years old and literally praying to God to let me die so I didn’t have to live anymore. (WHAT THE FUCK, INDEED?) But with the resilience that ONLY comes from youth, I embraced the concept of eternal salvation; and I became a proselytizing, evangelical Christian teenager. I channeled all my anger and fear into rigid religious fervor. But I still had questions, so I read the Bible, and I took Biblical courses at church.
When God never rescued me despite all my trying and learning and in the depths of my despair, I chose to let myself die and attempted suicide at sixteen. Though I survived, I think part of me did die then. I’ve felt very much in-between ever since, partly alive and partly dead. I was both corporeal and ethereal at the same time. Some might say I was fragile (they have). I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t say there’s a single fragile thing about me, then or now. I’m as hard and cold as a corpse, and it takes an unbelievable level of effort to force myself to be warm with people.
I had even more questions about faith, and I was desperate for a loving community, so I chose a Christian college when I was lucky enough to have the opportunity. College. Well, it really was the best of times and worst of times. I went through an early marriage, miscarriage, and divorce all before graduating in four years…with two majors… three part time jobs…and a chip on my shoulder the size of Alaska. I was villainized by some for mustering the courage to hold my head up and for bouncing back after the divorce. I was publicly humiliated for wearing a Kerry/Edwards t-shirt while cleaning in the cafeteria on voting day. You read things like Jane Eyre and Great Expectations, or anything by Flannery O’Connor, and you think despicable people like that can’t possibly exist in real life. I’m telling you, I’ve met more than one Bible salesman willing to steal a wooden leg!
As rough as it was, college was also a period of awakening and of finding the deep love of a Christian community, when I wasn’t angry at it, of course. My friends and I would walk barefoot by Buffalo Creek quoting Adam Bede, writing songs, and living out our social justice in the form of hospitality for one another. I never locked my doors. I always left my keys in my car for any of my friends to use as they needed. I never knew if people would be in my apartment…or not. I never claimed ownership over much, but I also never went without anything I needed. I ate well. All my bills were paid…in spite of the money I had or didn’t. It was faith inspired socialism, and it was so beautiful. We lived out the miracle of the loaves and fishes in my last couple of years at college, and it sustained me on more than just material levels.
With my college experiences, my questions about faith only grew, and I became more vocal about my universalist leanings. And then I went to seminary. I realize now that probably wasn’t the best route for me; but I was fresh out of college and not ready to leave my community…so I went to the seminary on the holy hill across the street. I only stayed a year.
In seminary, I gained a love of textual criticism, early Christian tradition, liturgy and ritual, Biblical languages, and early American Christian History, but my doubts than any of it was real, meaningful, or nourishing had also become overwhelming. So I took some time away from church when I left seminary.
In the four years after leaving seminary, I tried going back to church several times, but I just couldn’t. I tried the Methodists because I love John Wesley. I tried the Episcopalians because they drink and have great senses of humor…about faith…and life. The most pleasantly sarcastic people I know are Episcopalian. I strongly considered joining an Episcopal church here in Knoxville, but my husband and I were the youngest people in the congregation by at least a few decades, so the search was still on for a spiritual community.
Dark Night of the Soul
In those same four years after seminary, I struggled in the typical post-collegiate ways. I was overworked, grossly abused by my employer, underpaid, and had no benefits at all. And then I quit that job and struggled with unemployment. But wait…there’s more! To deal with…gosh everything in my life, I started taking an anti-depressant while working for said abusive employer. I was on it a whole month before I quit that job. With all my medical experience, I figured it was okay to just stop taking it. It had only been a month, right? Biggest mistake of my whole life. Ever.
I don’t remember much about the month of November, 2007. I am deeply ashamed of everything I put my husband (then boyfriend) through at that time, but I also know I wasn’t really in control of what was happening. I’m going to blame it all on very bad judgment and quitting my new medication so suddenly (because taking someone with so many demons and fucking with their brain chemistry that way is a disaster just waiting to happen). And it was a disaster.
Some people have a period of depression after confronting (and being consumed with) religious doubt and life struggles. It’s normal, really. But ever the over-achiever, I actually had a certifiable mental breakdown. My beloved took me to the doctor, told him I was broken and lost and not the woman he fell in love with, and he asked for the help that I couldn’t ask for. It took me over a year of taking the right dosage of the right medication to level my brain back out, and the process of figuring out that perfect cocktail was a nightmare all on its own (for me and especially for Daniel).
When I felt better and stronger, I told my doctor I wanted to go off the meds; and I’ve been successfully off of them since early 2009. But I’m not the same. I don’t know that I’ll ever be the same. Maybe part of me died then, too. In all the things I’d been through, I had never experienced debilitating anxiety like I have since living on the flip side of that coin. The constant tentativeness and fear that seems to follow me around since then are like stormy clouds always on the horizon, or a flock of dark pixies overjoyed at my torment.
In the summer of 2010, I started going back to church. I was so skittish. And they let me be. They let me stay on the edges as long as I needed. Even now, they don’t judge me for the times I’m the Roadrunner out the door after service. Or, if they do, they love me the same anyway, and that’s all that really matters. They preach love, and they practice social justice. They care for the people in the margins. They give space and time and validation to people who are experiencing moments of brokenness, and they offer healing to all who would take it. They are made up of people who’ve been rejected and hurt by their loved ones as well as by the Church. They’re religious scholars with rich theology. They embrace and use liturgy regularly, and I’m sure services are planned; but no one gets bent out of shape when something goes awry. I dare say no music leader is as quick with the witty, musical improvisation as ours! And the children’s/youth’s presence in the congregation and service sets the most beautiful example for us as adults.
Along with my return to a spiritual community, I began practicing yoga in October 2010. It really did start as a practical alternative to physical therapy. But it became the first way I ever learned to be comfortable in my own body and mind. I learned to breathe. I learned to be still without relying on obsessive counting, or escaping through literature. I became physically stronger, and then I became inspired…to see what I could do…to learn what challenges I could overcome.
Last year for Lent, I started practicing yoga every day, and so many unexpected obstacles arose. Uncontrollable crying. Anger. Shaking. A return of nightmares, sometimes night terrors. I think my body was finally experiencing a delayed reaction of sorts to all the pain that had been inflicted upon it. And then last summer a friend committed suicide. In my emotional rawness and because of my own near-miss as well as our communication just a couple days before it happened, it hit me and left me down for the count. I gave myself time to grieve, and then I started moving on before I drowned in it. I went back to church, kept up with my yoga practice, added running, and started practicing Buddhist metta meditation.
I’d say I’m still in the process of reclaiming my life. I still cry sometimes when I do certain yoga poses. When I run, listening to loud, screaming types of music, I feel like my whole body is exercising/exorcising out all of my demons. I’m mostly sleepless, unless it’s out of sheer physical exhaustion. And sometimes it’s hard to shake the negative thoughts from my mind. But I’m still active in my spiritual community. I continue in my yoga & meditation practices, and I’m getting better at running every single day. I journal my reactions to life and culture here on this blog. In reading it, I sincerely hope this stage of my life is as inspiring as it is for me to be living it. Because as hard as all of this is, it’s all worth it.
So what am I? What do I believe? What is good or evil? What is my salvation?
Because our culture likes labels, I guess I’m a Post-Traumatic, Post-Evangelical, Post-Fundamentalist, Post-Academic, Atheist, Agnostic, Buddhist, Christian, Yogi. I wouldn’t say I’m a mystic because of my cynicism; but I’m probably more authentically mystic than all the people rushing to India to kiss the feet of their gurus and get new names. The very definition of mysticism, as Wikipedia goes, is “the pursuit of, communion with, identity with, or conscious awareness of an ultimate reality, divinity, spiritual truth, or God through direct experience, intuition, instinct, or insight.” Yup, I’d say I’m probably a mystic; but I don’t dig the talk of chakras or of chanting, or of faith healing. So I’m a cynical mystic as well as a statistical anomaly. Somehow that all seems fitting.
Similarly, the term “charismatic” takes me back to the scary days of life in a Pentecostal church with speaking in tongues, demon possession, and spiritual warfare. I would absolutely say I am not charismatic at all. But the literal and original meaning of charisma is “grace,” and were it not for receiving the grace of all the people who’ll have me, I’d be completely alone in this world.
What is good and evil? Well, I’m an expert at evil, so I’ll start there. Evil is anything that tells us “I am me, and you are you.” If “I am me,” then that means I exist outside of “you.” It means that we are different. It means I can pass righteous judgment on you and you on me. It means I create a sense of self and a sense of other. As long as I have a sense of self and a sense of other, I can debase whatever is “other.” This is the foundation of poverty and war, which are also evil. It is the foundation of thinking one person can own another person and therefore treat “their” people however they please, which is usually to say abuse. And its result…well its result is utter separation, which is hell. Good, on the other hand, is the coming together of You and Me. It is the abandonment of the sense of self and the sense of other. It is the connection of all living things. It is love and charity, grace and peace. It is salvation.
And what of salvation? Well my salvation is Jane Eyre, and all of Dickens’ orphan tales. It’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” and Jane Austen. My salvation is The Smashing Pumpkins, Sarah McLachlan, and Mumford & Sons. It’s absolutely yoga, running, and meditating. It’s Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein. It’s the Mandelbrot set and MC Escher’s Relativity. It’s the Buddha and Jesus and Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. Today and specifically in my life, my salvation is Son’Cia Humphries, Meghan Sizemore, John Henderson, Mr. Owens, Ms. Rhoton & Mr. Wilson, Dr. Ruth Lavender, Dr. Jill LeRoy Frazier, Marvin Glover, Brittany Love, Evelyn Tachau Brown, Judson Nichols, John Gill, Leslie Etheridge, Victoria Medaglia, Ceil Sheahan, Sam Rosolina, Marcia Free & Fred Martinson, and Jim & Sandy Foster. It’s my beloved Daniel and his truly long-suffering love. It’s all the things and people that help me know I’m not alone…that I’m connected. My salvation keeps an eye on me in the moments I’m not able to look out for myself. It challenges me and makes me stronger. It holds me accountable to my vow to love myself.
This post covers my transpersonal journey to this point, which is almost 30 years old. It may seem too short a time to have lived through so much. But I’ve died a few times in the process, and I see it more as if I’ve just lived a few different times even if it’s only in this one lifetime. I’ve certainly had a plentiful serving of tragedy, but I’m living in the midst of the happiest time of my life, which is more than making up for all the doom and gloom.
Tomorrow marks three weeks of Lent, which is almost half-way to Easter and Lent’s completion. This year I’ve given up posting on Facebook, and instead, I’m writing letters to my friends. This Lenten practice is much easier than last year’s practice because I’m not necessarily adding a daily observance (like fasting and daily yoga). The only thing I’m “doing” every day is NOT checking Facebook, which has been much easier than I thought it would be, and I don’t miss it…much. While benefits and encouragements are present in social media, the chaff seriously outweighs the wheat in this regard.
The real challenge of this year’s Lenten practice comes in finding the “right” things to talk about. What do you put in a letter to people you hardly know or people you’ve only known superficially? In Facebook communication, it’s common to post whatever blurbs come to mind or whatever links I’ve come across online and “liked.” My personal Facebook News Feed usually contains conspiracy theories and calls for political accountability, articles about social justice, science news, progressive Christianity updates, Buddhism quotes, local news updates, articles about yoga and running, and my friends’ personal minutia (from meal photos and family activities to work rants and exercise updates). When I “like” these things or post things like this, I essentially put content “out there” for people to respond to…or not. It’s quite the setup for the introvert who still wishes to share without having to actually interact with people in real life. But it’s all rooted in superficiality, despite how profound or meaningful some of it may be.
But specifically writing to people and assuming they’re interested in the minutia of my life is another thing entirely. My first attempt at a letter to Wendy (the project’s muse) was over 10 handwritten pages, chock-full of spiritual history. And I scrapped it all because after I read it, I knew this complete stranger would likely not care to know quite that much about me. Regardless of that assumption’s veracity, I knew that I wouldn’t care for her to know that much about me. Then I sat on it for a week, trying to find something meaningful to say, something worthy of being written down and made tangible with a fountain pen and yellow, lined paper.
All I could muster up (for both letters) was an update about some of my recent activities (which is really to say an update on running/upcoming races). But running is so not the entirety of my life. Why did I write them both about that? Why didn’t I include writing about the things I’m reading, or about my work? Where is the Venn Diagram of topics that are both sincere and acceptable for polite discourse, whether public (on Facebook) or private in a personal letter?
Looking back on those first two letters, they are more reflective of selfishness and vanity than they are of a sincere attempt at communication. They should have been scrapped too, but I decided that whatever I put down in the last versions was going to be sent, with no edits or revisions; and now my heart is heavy with regret for what I included and for what I didn’t mention. In all the foot-in-mouth posts I’ve put on Facebook (of which there are way too many), I can assure you I never felt as embarrassed as I have since sealing and sending those letters.
My husband tells me I’m an onion, with lots of layers. (Thank you, Shrek, for inspiring my husband to analyze my personality in this way.) He tells me that I am “community oriented” in the sense of coming to someone’s aid or doing something for someone else, but that when I am in need, I rarely, if ever, reach out and ask for help from that same community. (He’s right. I rarely even ask for his help, much less anyone else’s. It’s the sin of pride, and I’m very guilty of it.)
Maybe that’s playing a role in this attempt at fostering deeper communication. Here I am thinking writing letters is the perfect type of interaction for me—the writer; but when it came to choosing superficiality or sincerity, I chose superficiality. More than anything I’m sure this is rooted in fear…fear of sharing my life in all its raw honesty; fear of letting people see me as broken or damaged or vulnerable because I don’t have a happy or “normal” history. I assume people want a happy story, one that inspires (and that is what I try to do on this blog). But in making and living according to that assumption, what I’m really doing is failing to trust them…to trust that they will accept me as I am. And as sorry as I am for that, I’ve lived through enough awkward moments of absolute sincerity and honesty to know that my mistrust is well placed.
I have six more letters to write, and I have an established history with only half of them. This week I’ll spend time on the three people I’ve known well. Though we have fallen out of communication, it’s always been easy for us to pick up without seeming to have missed a beat. I’m hoping that makes it easier to write them and that my letters will be more sincere. If I even get responses from the first two letters, I promise I’ll try harder to drop my prideful veil in reply more than I did in the initial attempts. In the meantime, please accept this song that both explains and apologizes better than I can on my own.
Last year’s observance of Lent was primarily physical, though practicing Yogic Lent was definitely a catalyst for more than physical changes in my life. This year I just can’t make the same sacrifices of fasting and daily yoga practice because I’m in the midst of training for my first half-marathon. I’m running four times a week, with core training and exercises to condition me in the pursuit of becoming a more efficient endurance runner. I start my third week of training tomorrow, and looking at the next two-weeks of training, it’s going to take everything I have just to meet my own goals. So, it’s just plain unrealistic for me to observe Lent the same way I did last year and reach my half-marathon goals. And that’s okay. People go through seasons, and I’m learning to become more flexible with accepting the inevitable changes of life.
This year I’ve decided to reflect on what I do with my time. As a writer, I spend quite a lot of time communicating with words, whether at work where I research and write full time, or volunteering with PIET part-time. Then there’s the blog you’re currently reading, which I fit in when/where I can. These are all useful types of writing. They challenge me to hone my skills, almost constantly; and the variety of writing forces me to develop a range to cover diverse topics.
But when I compare all of these types of writing with what I write (and read) on Facebook, it’s obvious that I could invest my time better. The only benefit to social media sites like Facebook is that they’re social. They attempt to connect people; and in some ways, they succeed. Social media is a great way for family and friends who are separated by countries to stay in each others’ daily lives. But that same type of communication with local friends seems less genuine, and it is certainly less necessary. So to use my time on more skillful types of writing, while also maintaining a social media of sorts, I have set Facebook aside, and I will spend Lent 2013 writing Lenten Letters.
I got the idea for Lenten Letters in a Facebook post by a recent new friend from church. I absolutely loved the idea of a daily letter writing discipline! (Please let me channel Jane Austen!) And Lent is the PERFECT time to start.
I have a collection of friends from college on the mailing list as well as new friends in Knoxville and even complete strangers in my church community. My most long-standing friendships are among college alums, and with several thousand miles among all of us, it’s no wonder we’ve lost touch. With those letters, I hope to cultivate rich ground that’s been lying fallow for too long.
I’m not entirely certain how to approach the new friendships and strangers just yet, and I’m looking forward to a recommended book on the lost art of letter writing for helpful tips. Because she inspired the whole idea, Wendy is up for the first letter, and all I know at this point is that I’m making her a mixed cd because I’m just not sure where or how to start.
Community Life & More Friendship Redefined
This Lenten practice has already challenged my perspective on what “community” is as well as what friendship is. Why are people “friends” with me on Facebook? In one of my very first blog posts, I touched on this topic, and I’m sure I’ll be exploring it more as I make my way to Easter. As a result of that post, I did a mass cleansing of my friend list and “unfriended” over 400 people. Since then I’ve tried to keep the number between 100 and 160, and I’ve noticed the number creeping up again since I’ve become more involved in my community. I’ve added mostly church friends, some yoga friends, and some running friends. But especially with these new local friends, what does it mean for us to be “friends” on Facebook?
Again, what does “friendship” mean? What does it require? Are there implied and unstated commitments? Do we have a cheap friendship because it’s easy for us to “like” one another’s status updates, while it seems so very hard to find the time to meet face-to-face for coffee or a walk? And what does the Facebook style of communication do for friendship? Do you really care about the cute cat videos I’ve posted; or what of the Buddhism quotes or political rants?
Since I keep my friends list fairly streamlined to college alums, some family, and local friends, I don’t feel weird about the times I’ve shared personal status updates because everyone on my friends list actually knows me personally. It’s actually been a source of comfort and strength especially with friends who live miles away and would prefer to know when I’m struggling. But then again being so sincere and authentic in such a superficial format seems more than just a little awkward at times. I have friends I feel closer to now because of our Facebook friendship than I ever did when we were living in the same community in college. But then when I consider my two “best friends,” I couldn’t tell you the last time I spoke with them on the phone or saw them in person. Granted, they both live over 100 miles away, but that only illustrates the point further: how are they my “best friends” when I rarely communicate with them?
Maybe Facebook is a good way to initiate a real-world friendship for people who prefer to stay on the margins. As someone who struggles with social anxiety, it is much more comfortable for me to read about someone than it is to actually interact in person. So am I using Facebook as a crutch…as a way to keep people at a comfortable distance? Yes, that is very likely, and that will be just one of the challenges I face this Lent. If I want to develop and maintain friendships…real life friendships…then I need to make these people a priority. But then how do I do that when I work full-time, volunteer part-time, and struggle along with endurance training? Scheduling the time to write seems to be easier than scheduling time to meet, and maybe the Lenten Letters project will serve as a way to preserve quality communication while considering my own time constraints as well as my friends’ busy lives.
Today’s COS Meditation
This first Sunday of Lent marked a return to weekly worship for me. With working on weekends, being iced in, and getting used to a challenging new physical & sleeping routine, I’ve missed several weekly services since the beginning of the year. I’m glad to be back, and today’s meditation was so perfect for the first Sunday of Lent. That it focused on being in community with others also made the service all the more appropriate, considering my Lenten objective.
The Call to Worship was the following call & response:
L: We have made a covenant with God and with one another,
P: To walk our spiritual journeys together,
L: To be an inclusive Christian church,
P: To manifest the love of God toward all people and all creation.
L: As pilgrims, we are not certain what awaits us along the way,
P: But we believe,
L: We believe,
All: We believe that the God of Unbounded Love walks with us, guides us and sustains us.
The pastor then spent Children’s Time explaining to the kids and congregation that when Jesus sent the disciples out (Luke 9:1-6), he sent them as pairs. The kids offered up great responses as to why they might need to stick together: to survive, to prevent from going crazy by being alone, to help with directions, in case one of them got sick, etc.
The congregational response to the Gospel reading was from Hebrews:
Seeing that we are surrounded
By so great a cloud of witnesses,
Let us run with perseverance
The race that is set before us,
Looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.
I love that they followed this with an excerpt from Walt Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road,” and then the pastor shared his meditation about how we are “Better Together.” The meditation started with describing how Jesus spent his 40 days in the wilderness, upon which we build the practice of observing Lent. And Jesus’ time in the wilderness was alone.
Isn’t it easy for us to be alone? Isn’t it easy to convince ourselves that we’re cut off…that no one else out there gets it? It’s what drives us away from real-life community with others to the virtual world and community with anonymous people. Being alone breeds self-righteousness because no one else is around to hold us accountable. It makes us ignorant for lack of skillful interaction with others. It’s what makes us stay cooped up in depression and self-loathing. So many of us (myself included) fall into this trap of singleness. We convince ourselves that we are alone, and then we are alone.
The pastor explained how Satan tempted Jesus to rise up (alone) to take control or fix everything. But Jesus resisted, and then he rejoined his disciples. And when Jesus sent his disciples out to preach the Gospel, he sent them in pairs. He knew the disciples needed to stick together, perhaps from his time alone in the wilderness, but maybe also from a lifetime of feeling that no one else could relate to him. Or, sending the disciples out in pairs could have just been a totally practical thing in the Ancient Near Eastern world. Whatever the reason and whatever the benefit, it all leads back to us being better together.
The service’s closing prayer was adapted from a prayer by Ted Loder
L: Holy One, this Lent, in the weeks ahead, let something essential happen within us and among us, change us in some way that really matters; a change that will turn us toward one another and move us to share tears and laughter, and to dare the dangerous deeds of your Love together.
All: This Lent, in the weeks ahead, let something new happen within us and among us; something which is the awakening of your Love in our midst. Amen.
….and I really hope that happens for me this Lent.
If you’d like a Lenten Letter, please send me an email with your mailing address at c(dot)mayes(dot)sanangelo(at)gmail(dot)com. I am sending some international letters too, so don’t let that stop you!
Last night my friend, Lauren, posted this article from MomLogic on my Facebook page. I am writing this post as a response for her, for myself, and for all Americans, though I am not in any way suggesting that I speak for all of us with this response. Reading this article, as well as several other responding articles, has confirmed for me that we in America are currently suffering from a cultural epidemic of utter disconnection. Our disconnection is widespread, and because it is rooted so deeply in our culture, it’s hard to see where we lost our way. However, it’s relatively easy to see the symptoms of this disconnection.
#1 Symptom of Disconnect: Common courtesy within dialogue has disappeared.
Throughout her article, MILF Mommy personally attacks and devalues people who are, apparently unlike her, size 12 and up. I think it is beneficial at this point to refer MILF Mommy (and everyone else on the Internet) to the Wikipedia page on Rhetoric for both definition and illustration of effective and courteous discourse. As long as we see ourselves as one (right, justified, whatever) and others, well as “other,” (wrong, stupid, whatever), we fundamentally have a conversation rooted in disconnection. I certainly take issue with MILF Mommy’s expression of her opinion and her actual opinion, but for me to debase and devalue her as a person makes me no better than she is. In the all the responses to MILF Mommy, I cringed at how embarrassing Internet Trolls are to the human race; and let’s face it: we’ve ALL been an Internet Troll at some point or another. We’ve all found ourselves caught up in some such debate, whether on the Internet or not. But there is a difference between arguing, debating, or attacking a “point,” and attacking a person.
My Courteous Response to MILF Mommy
When trying to communicate with people, it’s not ideal to begin with attacking the physical aesthetic of your audience as MILF Mommy did with her first point. Firstly, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What MILF Mommy specifically says about women size 12 and up being unattractive is simply untrue. In some cultures, having a more rotund physique is a sign of wealth, and therefore desirable.
MILF Mommy’s second point about people lying to themselves may not necessarily be untrue, but the way she expresses it certainly doesn’t do her argument any favors. I agree that we as Americans are not actually “in touch” with how we really feel. If we were, then all those times we became winded walking from our car to the mall would actually motivate us to not have the meal or sweet treat offered in the food court. That MILF Mommy focuses on the size of the clothing as an indicator of health is where I think she went wrong in her second point. Just because a woman may be a size 12 (or higher), doesn’t mean she doesn’t have “toned arms,” or that she does have a “muffin top belly and huge thighs.” Depending on a woman’s height, a size 12 may, in fact, be the perfect size for her. Consider the women on this page. They are all so tall they put Amazon women to shame, but none of them have a “muffin top belly and huge thighs,” and I can guarantee you all of them wear greater than a size 12. Essentially, healthy size proportion is a crucial point that MILF Mommy missed when she based her entire argument on something as arbitrary as a clothing size. I wonder if it would freak her out to know that a size 12 in America is something completely different to clothing designers who typically use European sizing guidelines?
MILF Mommy’s last three points are all different iterations of the same argument; so I will address them together. There is no such thing as “one diet to rule them all.” Every person is different and has different dietary needs and restrictions. So, the simple caloric intake/burn method of dieting and exercising isn’t always accurate. It even changes depending on exactly what type of exercising you’re doing. I am a perfect example of this. When my physical activity was fairly limited to yoga only, I noticed that I ate things that were lighter and fresher, more organic and less likely to be cooked. As I have added running to my active life, I’ve noticed I need more dense foods, but less fibrous than with yoga-only activity. I need more cooked, full meals instead of frequent small ones. My daily caloric intake has definitely increased just so it can fuel my running activities. And the scale hasn’t changed one iota, but my size has gone down. I am living proof that MILF Mommy’s sweeping generalizations about diet and exercise are wrong.
Because every person’s needs are different, it’s false that skinny people “work harder” than larger people, or that they are healthier somehow, and a lot of it is directly connected with genetic makeup, contrary to MILF Mommy’s personal, unsubstantiated opinion. While Type II Diabetes is linked to lifestyle and obesity, conditions like Heart Disease and problems with cholesterol are deceptively stealthy killers because people generally think like MILF Mommy in that if they “look good” they’re healthy. Even if you’re under a size 12, you need to get your blood work checked to make sure you’re healthy. And anyone who’s suffered with juvenile/Type I Diabetes knows it has nothing to do with your size and everything to do with how your body produces insulin.
#2 Symptom of Disconnect: We use comparison to define our self-worth.
Probably the most destructive thing we can do to ourselves is create our self-image and find our self-worth by comparing ourselves to others. Here in America, we see life in linear and ladder form. We are born; we live; and we die; and that’s linear. We spend our whole lives working to get the best grade, graduate from the best college or university, get the best job, and make the most money so we can have the best house and car and clothes and so we can send our kids to the best schools to continue this cycle; and that’s the ladder.
The only thing that perspective has done for our society is establish a class of generational wealthy elite who are so far removed from the average person that it seems impossible to find a sense of connection because there seems to be so many ladder rungs between “us” and “them.” When we’re always comparing ourselves to the people higher up on the ladder, we’re constantly devaluing ourselves in the process. Conversely, when we’re always comparing ourselves to the people below us on the ladder, we’re constantly devaluing others.
We would benefit from a more circular perspective on life. We all live TOGETHER. We have success only because someone else made it possible, and therefore we rejoice in our success TOGETHER. When we fail, we fall back on all the others around us, and we mourn and recoup TOGETHER. The saying, “it takes a village to raise a child,” really should extend throughout all of life, and we’d all be better off for it.
#3 Symptom of Disconnect: We have allowed our consumerism to turn us into zombies.
Because we are a culture of consumers, we have bought, eaten, and satisfied ourselves into a zombified stupor to such an extent that we don’t even realize how broken and disconnected we are as an entire culture. We are a society of generally overweight, unhealthy, unhappy people weighed down by our “pursuit of happiness” in which we willingly accept the debt, weight, disease, and mental illness that comes with the American, capitalist, consumerist culture. Because we think we can buy and/or own the means to our happiness, we think this is the only way to live. But, young padawans, there is another way to live happily, and it doesn’t involve the pursuit of anything at all.
A Cure for All that Ails Us
I know I’ve referred to mindfulness as the approach to fix a plethora of ailments, and I’ll reiterate it again. We’re all looking for a panacea to fix all our problems, but most people assume it’s something they can buy (like a pill or a diet book or a gym membership). I think the panacea for our cultural epidemic IS mindfulness, and you can’t price it because you can’t buy it. It isn’t a thing; it’s an action. It can’t be owned; it has to be done. Mindfulness may be a noun but its function is more accurately aligned with the verb class of words.
As it pertains to this post’s focus on dieting, in his most recent post, “The Meditation Diet: How I Lost 60+ lbs. by Savoring,” Leo Babauta from zen habits offers up mindfulness as a realistic, long-lasting approach to dieting. And really what he’s doing here is outlining the “lifestyle change” we constantly hear about from our family doctors as well as famous doctors like Dr. Oz and the coaches on shows like The Biggest Loser with specific and small examples.
When you start paying attention to all the minutia of your life, you’ll see how eating the #1 combo at any fast food restaurant hurts you as well as the local and global community. Likewise, when you start being mindful of your purchases, you find that you really do have the power of the almighty dollar to change the world. Are you going to buy this kind of chocolate that is only available to you in its condition and at its price because it was farmed for by the hands of child slaves in Africa? Or, will you spend a little more, thus requiring that you have the treat a little less frequently, and instead buy this chocolate that’s likely better quality, likely better for you, but definitely better for our world because you bought it from a certified fair trade farmer?
Taking a mindful approach to life will un-do all the damage of our epidemic of disconnect. It will help you with your diet, your domestic budget, your road rage, your marital relationship, your work-life….the list goes on and on.
Suggested Reading for Reconnecting
The book and PBS documentary, Affluenza explains our cultural epidemic of disconnect much better than I do and with better references that I have here, and it is what inspired me to take an “epidemic” and “symptomatic” approach with this post. We read the book as part of our required Biblical studies senior-capstone course (Christ & Culture) in college, and it challenged us to enter the world as recent college grads with the knowledge that we were about to enter an all-devouring machine, but only if we let ourselves be consumed by it.
David Korten, an American economist wrote, Agenda for a New Economy: From Phantom Wealth to Real Wealth-A Declaration of Independence from Wall Street in which he proposes an alternative culture to the current Wall Street economy. His suggested culture is based on the Main Street economy of locally owned, community connected enterprise in which success has more than just a monetary or consumerist value. We read this book during our congregation-wide focus on economic justice at Church of the Savior in the fall, and we were charged with passing it along to other interested persons to continue the work of economic justice. So, if any of you locals want to read this book, let me know and I’ll GIVE you my copy!
Suggested Practices for Reconnecting
Breathing. Yup, that’s all I’ve got. Really, you can do lots of things to try to reconnect, but breathing is the easiest, cheapest, best way to get started. Just breathe. In and out. Slowly, or quickly doesn’t matter as much as paying attention to what it does in your body.