Culture

I'm getting pretty excited about our upcoming move to DC. Vegas has been fun, really fun, but it's time to move. This is not home. DC isn't home either, but I'm looking forward to the change.

We lived in DC before, we left about five years ago to move to Japan for two years, then we moved to Vegas. I'm smarter in DC than I am in Vegas. There I read the Washington Post every day, here I read the Vegas paper which amounts to gossip columns and crime stories. In DC I went to museums, historic sights and national monuments, plus heard the National Symphony Orchestra a few times. Here culture consists of casinos, nightclubs, and the occasional performances of ballet and violin by our nieces.

So apparently the culture of a town does affect me. It's kind of the life we lead, I guess, we just jump in to our new town. From the beginning of this journey we've always made a huge effort to really get to know a place, to take advantage of what was offered there. When we lived in Virginia we went to countless battlefields and historic sights. When we lived in Alaska we took up all things outdoors--kayaking, canoeing, backpacking and cross-country skiing. When we lived in Japan we traveled all over Asia, and here in Vegas, well, we go out on the town. Even when we don't really want to go downtown, some friend from out of town will be there (everyone comes to Vegas), and we'll end up having a drink or sitting at a blackjack table with them. Fun, but I've done it a few too many times.

However there will be things I will miss, really miss about Vegas. Mostly I'll miss the people. I have great friends here, who I'll miss dearly, but even just Vegas people in general. There's something a bit refreshing about people who live in Vegas. There's an honesty about the shallowness of life and a recognition that everyone uses something to help them get through the day. In other places I don't think people want to acknowledge that. But here, the city makes its living off of it, so there's less pretense--you're constantly reminded of the lowest common denominator of being human. I wasn't crazy about the DC crowd when we were there before, it's very conservative, self-important and consumed with work. At cocktail parties the first question is, "Who do you work for?" and the conversation really never goes anywhere else. They've sized you up, decided where you are on the importance scale, and whether or not they should really invest their time with you. Here people are wacky. It's a lot more interesting, and I feel no judgments about not working for a Congressman or failing to have an Ivy League education.

I'll also miss the desert. I have access to it at the end of my street, and I can take my dog out there, let her off the leash, and we can run forever and not see a soul, at least not a two-legged one. I've seen a few coyotes out there eyeing us recently. I'll miss the mountains too. It's so damn flat back east, I feel like I can't get my bearings.

So all this to say that while I've liked living here and I will miss it, I think Vegas has affected me, and I'm ready to be affected by a different culture. It feels like its time to throttle back on the partying and I believe I will enjoy a change of scenery and lifestyle. People who come here for fun say that about two days in Vegas is enough--and you feel hungover from it for weeks. After three years, I wonder how long it will take to recover, and how long it will be before I'm ready to come back.

Thirst of the Soul

I stumbled across a truth I should've known for years while doing some reading the other night.

Before I busted out of Christianity one of my main frustrations was that I was never really satisfied, was never really at peace or at rest. I kept working to arrive at a convincing place where I knew that I was becoming a better person, was doing enough, or that I sensed that I really knew God. My brand of Christianity promised me things like this. But did God Himself ever promise me that I would be satisfied?

So the other night I was reading some excerpts of writings by Christian mystics, who wrote that the soul desires what is beautiful. Beauty, loveliness, goodness are what draws the soul to the transcendent--causes it to search for more, for the divine, which is often hidden to the soul. The soul gets its desire for what is hidden from what it has already grasped or witnessed, a touch of the grace of God, which convinces it there must be more. In a tiny transitory way God grants the fulfillment of such a soul's desire with a passing glimpse of His work, His beauty and goodness, which only draws the soul more. But God promises no end to the soul's desire, or to completely satisfy it.

And the true vision of God consists in this, in never reaching satiety of desire. We ought always to look through the things that we can see and still be on fire with the desire to see more. So let there be no limit to curtail our growth in our journey upwards to God. This is because no limit to the beautiful has been found nor can any satiety cut short the progress of the soul in it's desire for the beautiful.

Gregory of Nyssa


My frustration was always that I couldn't seem to do enough study and prayer to know God enough. Now I see my goal was impossible, there is no stopping place. However, I can just rest by accepting that it all is what it is, and I don't have to work to arrive at some higher level. It doesn't have to be frustrating, it can be a relief. Do I really want a God of whom I could get enough? Would I believe in one I could fully understand? Wouldn't I quit searching if I could find the end of any of the great questions concerning what God is like?

I don't understand it, but this rings true to me. I must ask the questions, but answers are not to be concrete. God must be bigger than my understanding, and there must be more to Him than I'll ever know. That much, I need to accept.

Paralysis

I have experienced a kind of work paralysis my entire adult life. I think it started when I accepted my husband’s proposal of marriage. It was a wrenching decision, the one to marry him. I absolutely have no regrets, there was no way I could let him go on life’s adventure without me. He was the person who understood me the best, and being with him felt like home, and it has been. But I also I felt strongly, as much as I denied it, that I was setting aside something of myself--my personal dreams and goals. And I believed somewhere within me that it had to be done for us to be together.

It is what I saw modeled in my own home. My mother lived only for her husband and family, and being together, the family doing things together, came above all else. It was all she ever wanted, and she was fulfilled in that. So even though I said I would still work toward fulfilling my personal dreams and goals--I should have been able to, now with the encouragement of a supportive husband--I didn’t really believe it. I saw no way ahead of me for that to be so, I simply couldn't picture it, had never seen it. So my dreams, ambitions and inspiration for work atrophied, and I was somehow crippled.

So I struggled, oh how I struggled with my self-esteem in those early years of marriage. Not having anything to identify with professionally, I lost my formerly ever-present confidence and questioned myself relentlessly. I found I had an incredible lack of inspiration, motivation and direction to do anything professionally, in spite having spent my youth building those things. Nothing felt right, and I needed, insisted, that something feel right before I committed to it. I tried a full-time job, but it crowded me and my priorities for almost no payoff, and I was unhappy. I was not able to make it fit with my view of closeness in marriage. My husband and I were fully committed to his working long hours to reach his goals, and he was on-board with whatever I wanted to do. But I couldn’t muster. I also think I was so thrown by marriage and moving across the country that I never got my bearings.

Instead I focused on being a good wife and a better Christian. I really thought I was building the best life possible, which started with my spiritual priorities being in place, and continued with committing to doing whatever it took to have the closest marriage ever. If I did those things well, the lesser priority of professional success would naturally come to me. Isn't that what Christianity had raised me to believe? Put your SELF aside, the Bible says, and you will be blessed. That was easy enough because my SELF had no direction on how to proceed outside of Christianity and marriage. All my old dreams, desires and ambitions were not there for me, I could not call upon them. It was okay, I told myself, because I was working on more important things. Now I see that was a crutch to hold up my paralyzed self, and not the whole truth. So I worked part-time at jobs that provided flexible hours enabling me to work around my husband’s difficult schedule, and I did build a good life and a good marriage. I put even more time and effort into my spiritual life, believing it would pay off in all ways, and eventually show me, since I was “waiting” on God and not going my own way, how to be fulfilled in my work life.

Well that never happened. And twenty years later, I’m still trying to get those crippled, withered, twisted muscles of inspiration, dreams, desire, and ambition to move again. I so want to fly with them someday.

The Search for Faith

"Faith is a dynamic power that breaks the chain of routine, and gives a new, fine turn to old, common places. Faith reinvigorates the will, enriches the affections and awakens a sense of creativeness. Active faith knows no fear, and it is a safeguard to me against cynicism and despair....Faith is a state of mind. The Believer is not soon disheartened. If he is turned out of his shelter, he builds up a house that the winds of the earth cannot destroy."

Helen Keller in This I Believe


I used to have a lot of faith. I spent a lot of time working to cultivate it and trying to live according to it. I did countless religious things for many years because of it. Then it crashed, and I let it go. I didn't want to really, I was somewhat comfortable, if burdened by it. But I saw that it was flawed, that maybe it really wasn't faith at all. Maybe it was artificial certainty, and I had built my entire life on it. So I was "turned out of my shelter."

Well a few years have past now, and a few months ago I found that I was in need of some faith. A new faith, some truth to believe in, a reason to live well and become a better person. So I guess I am searching, looking to build up a house, that "winds of earth cannot destroy" if there is such a thing. I haven't found many answers, and sometimes I'm not sure there are any.

It's not that we find truth with a big "T." We investigate and sometimes we find things out and sometimes we don't. There's no way to know in advance. It's just that we have to proceed as though there are answers to questions. We must proceed, as though, in principle, we can find things out--even if we can't. The alternative is unacceptable."

Errol Morris in This I Believe


So maybe I'll find truth and faith in the pursuit of them. In this most difficult journey I have felt in my soul, in only the tiniest way, that it just might be true that the journey itself might "reinvigorate my will, enrich my affections and awaken a sense of creativeness." I want it to be true, I hope it is true. A "dynamic power" that "knows no fear...." Can you imagine? I must believe it's true, the alternative is "unacceptable." Anyone who has read the Life of Pi, will understand when I say, I have to believe in the better story. I'll keep searching.

Marathons

My husband came to me the other day and said he was running the Marine Corp Marathon this October and he wanted me to do it with him. I knew this was coming. I didn't even try to stifle my groan. Instantly the images and feelings surrounding the last time (only time) we ran that marathon in 2000 flashed into my mind. The hours-long training runs, the painful joints, the salty sweat burning my eyes and burning my skin. It kicked the enjoyment of running out of me for months afterwards.

Yes, it was a great experience in total. I was elated to cross the finish line at exactly my goal time, and it felt amazing to have accomplished something that took so much work. Running a marathon was always a goal of mine, one I wasn't sure I would ever attain. I did it though, and even though I'd really like to know if I could knock 15-30 minutes off my time (now that I know what it takes to run one), I've been thinking these past few years that once was enough. I'm not a great, easy, natural glider when I run. I trudge a bit, and it's hard on my body.

But I almost never turn down a fitness challenge like this. If friends are working out, I'll always go along, especially if it's my husband. The whole goal of working out, when we were first married, was to keep up with him on all our bikes, runs and hikes. Only recently have I passed up opportunities to do his death marches with him. I've realized I don't have to keep up with him, it's okay to go my own speed.

I'm passing on this marathon because I feel like I'm already in a marathon right now. In the past few months I've really set myself to make some real personal progress. I'm working on my spiritual/soulful life, (working through dysfunction from 30 years of Christianity), but also on my writing. I'm doing a lot of reading and finally doing some writing, which I've always wanted to do, but was too dysfunctional to make happen. You would think I could train for a marathon, work on my soul issues and do some writing, all at the same time, but I've put aside the most difficult task of becoming a writer for every little thing along the way my whole life. It's hard to write. For me it can be the hardest thing to do, and I can allow myself to be distracted by the tiniest thing rather than sit and get to it. Until recently. I'm just getting to a place where I'm actually writing a bit each day, and it feels good. So I'm making it my priority and doing the training runs for the book I will someday write, here, now.

I haven't bagged it altogether, I still love to run and DC has such great places to do it. I might do another one someday. I know I'll be a little bummed on race day. Kevin's recruited a few friends to do it with him and I've signed up to run the Army 10-miler with all of them three weeks prior to the marathon. So during Kevin's hours-long training runs I will run a few miles with him and my dog, then I'll picnic out at the parks with my books and journals, to wait for him and to spend most of my effort on my own personal marathon.

Life is Hard

Life is sometimes hard. It just is, no getting around it. It feels like it shouldn’t be. It seems to me it should just naturally flow in the right direction. We spend a lot of effort trying to make life something good and perfect, but it’s really just is what it is, our same life, even after all the effort. Kind of makes a person want to give up trying, and maybe they should.

I live in the desert. As I sit here looking out the window down the street, I see a row of houses, each with two trees in the yard. These trees are not indigenous to this climate. Without constant watering with water piped in from an artificial lake, they’d not make it one week in the summer. But the perfect American neighborhood with shade, grass and flowering plants appeals, so we do a lot of work to make it look that way despite the fact that we live in the desert.

As I look farther out my window I can see the massive buildings housing the Las Vegas casinos that promise fortune and a great time. The signs are shiny, bright and provocative and they make you believe that maybe you could have a share in the good life, even if just for a weekend. But those expensive buildings weren’t built with money the owners earned from giving out the good life. Odds are, you're lucky if you walk away with the same one you walked in with.

So maybe life doesn’t need us to dress it up. Maybe we should quit hoping the neon and the shade will make it better, and we live with the desert plants in the yard. If you look closely they have their own beauty, ruggedly surviving on an inch or two of water per year. Maybe it is okay that life is hard, we learn a lot in hard times, we do our changing and growing in hard times. Maybe that IS the natural flow. Maybe when we quit working to make it something it isn’t, we can embrace it and enjoy it for what it is: Life, that is sometimes hard.

Conversation

There is nothing better than a good conversation. My favorite times are when I have a really great exchange with a friend or even an acquaintance. The best night? A dinner party with 8-10 people who are confident and comfortable enough to give opinions and better yet, tell stories and argue a little over great food and wine. I love it, and I don't get enough of it.

I read in a magazine once about a couple that had "soup night" at their house every Thursday. They would make a huge pot of soup, and there was a standing invitation for all their friends and neighbors to show up with a baguette or a bottle of wine. Every week there would be a different mix of people, and they would discuss movies, books, and who knows what else. Hopefully religion and politics weren't taboo. I always say that when we quit moving around and build that house in Alaska or wherever we land, I want to do this.

So there's that stimulating, dinner party-type of conversation, but then there's the even more satisfying one-on-one, no-bullshit, intense conversation with a trusted friend. After one of these, I always feel so relieved, like I've just exhaled after holding my breath. I’m not always sure why, because it doesn't even have to be an incredible conversation, just a real one. Sometimes I get all sweaty and worked up, trying to articulate my thoughts exactly and trying to get them out there accurately where they can stand on their own. When I do this, even if it's just a brief thought shared, I feel relief.

I think it's because it reminds me that I am human, makes me feel I'm really connecting with someone else in this universe. It means I've let down a little bit, not just handling life on my own. It can be scary, I'm not always sure if I can or if I should share something real, but I'm almost never sad when I do it. I crave real conversation. Not just for answers, which of course I love to hear if someone has them, but for the feeling that I get from the exchange. I throw something out there, and someone might just get it, and they might just throw it back with a little something on it. It's playing catch, and sometimes the ball hits the pocket perfectly and makes that great sound. When that happens I’m glad I don’t have all the answers I used to work so hard to have. I'm glad when I get to hear someone else's take. That feels more like living.

Just last night I had one of the most incredible conversations with my husband we may have ever had. We were making dinner and having it out about something, hashing out real feelings, not just sharing the daily exchange of information. At some point I realized that I had a story, a painful, meaningful story, from my youth, that he knew of, but that I had never told him in 19 years of marriage. I hadn't kept it from him, just didn't ever think I needed to tell him, or that he needed to hear it. I think I thought he already knew it somehow after all these years, but he hadn't heard it from me. I told him I would tell him this thing that I went through as a girl over dinner.

His response was kind of amazing to me. He got all excited and attentive and settled in to hear about the growing pains I experienced when I was idealistic, fresh-faced and so hopeful about the future. The story was about a huge disappointment and mistake of mine from when I was very young. It's not a story I think of or dwell on or worry over, I've dealt with it long ago. But it was new to him. His reaction astounded me. He was so pained by my pain--my 25-year-old pain I'm not really feeling anymore--that I was incredibly touched. He could hardly stand to hear the sad parts and he was so sorry that I ever had to experience the event. Then after listening he gave me his one-of-a-kind insight about who I am, and what effects may have been wrought in my life from the experience.

It was impossible not to see how well he knows me, and how loved I am. That conversation was really great for my soul.

Drinking

I went to a fancy event last night where a server would not let my glass get even half empty. Consequently, being a lover of wine, I'm a bit slow today. Why is it that I keep drinking when I'm not even tasting it and when I already know I've had enough? What is that about alcohol? When I'm full I stop eating, why no internal limiter on alcohol consumption? Maybe it's my "soul" saying it needs more and I need to fill it. Yeah, that's the spin, it's healthy for me in some way.

Actually, it does serve one good purpose for me. It makes me feel like I want to be a better person. I slept over at a friends house, and I'm sad I missed a night in my bed with my husband, even though I've had thousands and will probably have thousands more. I want to drive the speed limit and walk my dog and clean the house and make a great dinner. I'm appreciating the ordinariness of life, and the comfort it gives me.

It also makes me want to NOT do it again.

Soul

I've decided to title my writing here "Developing Soul" because I aim to work on developing my own soul right here. I haven't done enough of that in my life. My whole life, until a few years ago, was aimed at spiritual progress. I have come to realize that I've not given equal attention to my soul. The soul doesn't quietly endure being ignored or pressed down, eventually it finds ways to get attention. For me it is always with feelings of pain and emptiness. Emptiness I am greatly tempted to fill with all manner of distractions.

I've recently read that the soul is empowered when one sustains these feeling of emptiness and resists temptations to fill it prematurely. One must be able to accept and tolerate their own weakness to develop their soul. This rings true to me, I know it is true. So my soul path, if it is a path, is to commit to do this more. To allow emptiness to dwell with me a bit, to listen to it and see if it has something to teach me. To live in a place where I don't have all the answers... where there may not be any answers.

In my spirit I reach for the divine and aspire to the highest self I can fulfill. In my soul, I know that I am human, that I must feel and acknowledge all that that means. I am who I am now, not who I wish to be. I feel what I feel and desire what I desire. No pretense allowed.

Back at It

Well I'm here again. After three years of just journaling to myself I'm putting something out there again. In cyberspace, yes, and anonymously, to start with, but I'm here. The practice alone of organizing my thoughts with clarity is good for me, and necessary. So here I go. Welcome to my world.