Haiku: Learning New Rhythm
His chest rises and falls
Rhythmic breathing carressing my cheek
My music of the night.
His chest rises and falls
Rhythmic breathing carressing my cheek
My music of the night.
I just read something I really, really needed from Havi Brooks’ awesome site The Fluent Self (If you don’t read her, go subscribe. Now.) Her latest post is “Avoidance! Oh, and getting out of it”:
You’re avoiding the thing that’s holding all your dreams? Good grief! Of course you are! That symbolic weight? It’s that much potential for hurt and disappointment.
If you weren’t avoiding it on some level, I’d be worried about you. If you could do the thing easily and painlessly, without having to spend years and years working on your stuff to get there… I’d probably assume that it didn’t mean everything to you.
It’s not this: “Even though I thought this meant everything to me, I’m still avoiding it so clearly I don’t really care about it.”
It’s this: “Wow, this means everything to me… so of course I’m avoiding it.”
This is where I’ve been with my writing. It is my dream to write. My whole world is wrapped up in that. But lately I have been wondering at my own avoidance. Does it mean this is what I should be doing? Is this really not what I want to be doing? May be I should just be satisfied with writing as a hobby and get a “real job.”
Then I read this post. And Havi is absolutely right. The reason I am avoiding this is because it really is my heart’s dream. It’s huge. It’s monumental. Of course I’m scared to death. Of course I’m avoiding it. Because there is so “much potential for hurt and disappointment.” Of course there is reisitance and fear: this dream is everything to me.
Instead of beating myself up and berating myself, I need to continue to take Havi’s advice:
To say to yourself:
“Of course I’m afraid. It makes sense that I’m afraid. This fear is a temporary part of where I’m at right now. And even though I’d really like to not need to have it around anymore, this is where I am right now.
I am allowed to have this fear.
This is me noticing how much space my fear takes up. This is me reminding myself that my fear is only one part of who I am. It is not all of me. It is of me, but it is not me.”
Because so much space opens up right after you’ve softened the resistance and the fighting with yourself.
Every time I interrogate myself (”Why am I so tired? Why can’t I write this blog post? How come I don’t feel like doing yoga?”), my reaction is resistance.
Every time I notice what I’m feeling and give myself permission to feel it (”Wow, I guess I need some rest. I’m allowed not to always be in the zone”), I feel safe. Safe and comforted.
Invariably, I remember what it’s like to not be fighting with myself.
Instead of fight myself, I need create a safe space within myself for this fear. And in this space I will feel safe enough to create. I feel a lot better knowing what this fear and avoidance are about. It’s about this being my dream, and not that I’m wrong about what I should be doing. My “real job” is writing. It is exactly what I should be doing.
I really can’t think of anything to write tonight. It was an odd sort of day. I woke up late after having some really crazy dreams. It took me awhile to wake up. It’s been gray, abysmal and snowing here for the last few days. I’ve really just slogged through the gray day, in which it took me awhile to wake up. I’ve done a lot of reading today, but this is the first writing. At least I’m writing now.
The feeling that the winter is going on too long, and I just don’t want to get out of bed and do anything veil is falling around me. Acedia is setting in. Sloth is getting comfortable. But I am keeping up with some of my routines and rituals: prayer, centering prayer, making the bed, cooking, and doing a load of laundry. Although I need to think about eating regularly more. Daily life is full of routines and ritual that make daily living sacred. Acedia wants says, “It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it. You’ll have to do it all tomorrow? Why bother?” But we have to bother because we are important. Our bodies are important. Our homes are important. Our souls are important. And these facets of life must be attended to. They must be given attention and kept every day.
This is why I need to write. Writing is important to me. It always has been. That is why I must break out of this acedic funk that says “Why bother? Who’s going to read it?” I bother because it is a part of who I am. It is important because it’s one of the ways I feed myself, take care of myself, cherish myself. It doesn’t matter if it’s not read. That’s not what makes the ritual of writing important. It’s important for the simple reason I like doing it.
Related Post
Instead of leading The Great Litany by myself, the music minister and I sang it together. It went very well, and I received compliments that I sounded good. I don’t mind chanting, but I think next time I want something shorter. About half-way through the litany, you think, “Good night this is long!” But all went well.
I will be doing some blog housekeeping this week. For those of you who have linked to my blog, I plan on updating my sidebar to include you and other wonderful blogs and sites I have found. I am also going to start going through past posts to correct the HTML code that didn’t come out right when My Hubby last updated my WordPress account.
I hope all you had a worshipful and restful day, and better weather than we’re having in Chicago.
Tomorrow I will lead our church in chanting the Great Litany. Many Episcopal churches chant The Great Litany on the first Sunday in Lent. What is The Great Litany? Chantblog has the answer:
An intercessory prayer including various petitions that are said or sung by the leader, with fixed responses by the congregation. It was used as early as the fifth century in Rome. It was led by a deacon, with the collects led by a bishop or priest. The Litany was the first English language rite prepared by Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. It was first published in 1544. Cranmer modified an earlier litany form by consolidating certain groups of petitions into single prayers with response. The Litany’s use in church processions was ordered by Henry VIII when England was at war with Scotland and France. It was printed as an appendix to the eucharist in the 1549 BCP [Book of Common Prayer]. The Litany was used in each of the three ordination rites of the 1550 ordinal, with a special petition and concluding collect. The 1552 BCP called for use of the Litany after the fixed collects of Morning Prayer on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The 1928 BCP allowed the Litany to be used after the fixed collects of Morning or Evening Prayer, or before the Eucharist, or separately. The 1928 BCP included a short Litany for Ordinations as an alternative to the Litany. The 1979 BCP titled the Litany “The Great Litany” (p. 148), distinguishing it from other litanies in the Prayer Book.
The Book of Common Prayer online has The Great Litany here. Chantblog has a Youtube video of The Great Litany chanted at St. Barnabas.
I will let you know how it goes. (Which reminds me I probably should run through it again before bed.)
Does you church do anything on the first Sunday of Lent to set the tone for the next 40 days?
The fog rolled in, heavy and damp
It blanketed the city in its mist
It was the thick, pea soup kind
Where was the hand in front of your face?
Then the booms echoed, and the mist lit up
As the rain poured down
I wondered all day when
I would see the buildings across the street
Again
Now all it quiet
The fog has lifted and rolled away
I see the lights on Columbus and Lake Shore Drive
And the itty-bitty red lights dotting Balboa
I revel in the wee hours
When all is dark and silent
There is a clarity in the darkness
Where I can think
Ponder
And dream
© 2009 by Shawna R. B. Atteberry
Today was not a good day. In fact, I’ve been out of sorts most of this month. Mainly because I have not been writing as this blog makes very obvious. I really did not want to go to the Ash Wednesday service. I feel enough guilt and shame. I know that I “have sinned by my own fault. . .by what I have done, and by what I have left undone.” Especially the what I have left undone. Do I really need an additional reminder about what I should be doing that I’m not? Really? But I had to go: I was bringing bread for the soup and bread dinner after the service, and I knew I needed to be there.
I’m very glad I went. As we were praying the Litany of Penitence, I felt a great peace come over me, and I acknowledged that I was a human and that means that I am going to fail, make mistakes, and even choose outright rebellion to what God has called me to do, which is to say, sin. It was not only a peaceful, but humbling thing, to admit that “From dust I have come and to dust I will return”; to confess my sins with my fellow brothers and sisters and accept God’s forgiveness. It was also a recognition that I am not the only one falling short of God’s calling. We, as a community, have fallen short. I could feel the forgiveness not just for myself, but for our community, as prayed. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I can say yes to God. Tomorrow we can obey God and better build God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.
I have decided what my Lenten disciplines will be this year: I am going to practice centering prayer, and I’m going to write in this blog. My 40 days of Lent will be spent in quiet with God and talking to you.
Also stop by Haraka Haraka Haina Baraka where Mark shared his Ash Wednesday experience. (And yes, you will find the translation for his blog name if you go and read.)
For those interested in praying the Daily Office, the Episcopal nuns of Mission St. Clare have everything you need including karaoke versions of chants and hymns. I also post Vespers Monday–Friday at Street Prophets.
Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (From The Book of Common Prayer.)
Related Posts:
Ash Wednesday Reflections
Lenten Disciplines: Fasting
Lenten Thoughts and Practices
Today I read three wonderful articles on Ash Wednesday:
At The Episcopal Cafe Sam Candler reminds us that some of the most fertile and rich soil comes from ashes in Ashes and Wine:
But today, I propose another meaning for these ashes. Out of these ashes, these signs of our mortal nature, comes something else. Once we recognize our own responsibility for wrongdoing, once we acknowledge our mortal and dusty nature, the ashes also become a sign of fertility.
If we are truly repentant, and truly cleansed, and open to the reality of God around us, then we are also fertile, ready to give growth to greatness.
Out of seven years worth of ashes on the island of Madeira came one of the finest wines of that time. There is no way the wine could have been produced without the burning, without the ashes. In fact, it was the burning that cleared the ground in the first place.
Ash Wednesday and Lent are, likewise, the burning and clearing of our Christian lives. We enter a time for confession, for penitence, for realization of our earthly nature. But this is also a fertile day, a time for self-examination and self-preparation. Today is getting us ready for something.
In The Artful Ashes Jan Richardson shared what she discovered when she took a project where she learned to draw in charcoal (if you are not reading The Painted Prayerbook regularly, I highly recommend you subscribe to her feed):
Taking up a new medium, entering a different way of working, diving or tiptoeing into a new approach: all this can be complex, unsettling, disorienting, discombobulating. Launching into the unknown and untried confronts us with what is undeveloped within us. It compels us to see where we are not adept, where we lack skill, where we possess little gracefulness. Yet what may seem like inadequacy—as I felt in my early attempts with charcoal—becomes fantastic fodder for the creative process, and for life. Allowing ourselves to be present to the messiness provides an amazing way to sort through what is essential and to clear a path through the chaos. To borrow the words of the writer of the Psalm 51, the psalm for Ash Wednesday, it creates a clean heart within us.
Ash Wednesday beckons us to cross over the threshold into a season that’s all about working through the chaos to discover what is essential. The ashes that lead us into this season remind us where we have come from. They beckon us to consider what is most basic to us, what is elemental, what survives after all that is extraneous is burned away. With its images of ashes and wilderness, Lent challenges us to reflect on what we have filled our lives with, and to see if there are habits, practices, possessions, and ways of being that have accumulated, encroached, invaded, accreted, layer upon layer, becoming a pattern of chaos that threatens to insulate us and dull us to the presence of God.
I love to chant, and I recently discovered chantblog. For those of you who love to chant here are the Lauds and Vespers hymns for Ash Wednesday and Lent.
I have yet to settle on a Lenten discipline, although I am thinking of making more room for silence in my life. What are thinking about during this Lent? What needs to be added to your life? What could you do without?
E-Quality published in article I wrote in their winter issue. You can find “Writing the World Right” in “Women and Writing,” Winter 2008 (This is a PDF file). My article starts on page 14, and make sure you read the other wonderul and informative articles too.
Our first Valentine’s together my then-boyfriend, Tracy, and I stayed in. Valentine’s Day fell on Wednesday, and as I lived in Kansas City, and he lived in Chicago, I flew in the following the weekend. It was cold; the high was 2° F. On Saturday night we had a very lovely dinner at Gioco’s, but for the rest of the weekend, we watched movies. And if you think we watched sappy love movies, then you would be wrong. The movies we watched included Donnie Darko, Being John Malkovich, and Groundhog Day. We’re just not geeks, we’re macabre geeks.
The following Valentine’s Day we were married. He had gotten me addicted to Mythbusters. In one episode Carrie was wearing a T-shirt. A T-shirt that said “Geek” written in Greek letters. I looked at Tracy and said (OK I yelled), “I have to have that T-shirt!” And not just because I’m a geek. I fell in love with Greek in college. For close to 15 years I have called myself the Greek Geek (I’ve always had the the name Greek Geek Inc. in the back of my mind, in case I ever started a business). So when I saw the T-shirt, I really had to have it. My Geek bought it for me for Valentine’s Day. You just don’t get much more geeky than that. Or so I thought.
A couple of weeks ago after being tagged a couple of times, I finally filled out the 25 Random Things About Me meme going around on Facebook. I mentioned that I love dead languages (I’ve also had Hebrew and Aramaic), but I still need to learn Latin. So what did My Hubby get me for this Valentine’s Day? Yes, that’s right: everything I need to start learning Latin. There’s Latin Made Simple: A complete introductory course in Classical Latin (Made Simple (Broadway Books)), The Bantam New College Latin & English Dictionary, Revised Edition, Easy Latin Crossword Puzzles, and Carpe Diem: Put A Little Latin in Your Life. Suffice it to say, I have started learning my fourth dead language.
Later that night in bed it hit me (that’s when everything hits me), I realized that he was once again supporting me and encouraging me to do what I wanted to do. One of my top three musts in getting married was that my husband would support my career. I got that must in spades. He totally supports and encourages me to continue writing and continue pursuing my dreams (even if I haven’t started bringing in a decent income yet. That bothers me more than him. OK, it doesn’t bother him at all; it bothers me a lot). In life, in career, in pursuing my dreams, and even when it comes to learning yet one more dead language, he supports me just as I support him in all those things (except for learning dead languages: he learns computer languages). That may not be geeky, but it sure does help to make a good marriage.
(There are various and sundry affliate links in this post.)