I’ve Been Fullered September 24, 2009

I’m starting grad school this month at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena.  We had our first day of orientation yesterday and by 5pm, I felt like I had been chewed up and spit out.  In a good way…?  Seriously, though, even though I was thoroughly exhausted, I was also exhilarated.  I think the through-the-wringer feeling came from the fact that my life is switching gears really suddenly and fast, without slowing down first.  I feel it inside, like I’ve been running at full speed in one direction and then switch, and all my insides lurch behind the rest of my body half a second later.

I’m such a sucker for welcome week activities.  During the convocation ceremony I felt so pumped up by all the speeches about learning and becoming scholars and theologians.  After the panel discussions, lunch with faculty, and conversations with other students yesterday, I get the feeling that I’m a small fish in a big pond.  I was stripped of any last bit of pride I may have had in my own theological or scholarly aptitude.  It’s the first day of kindergarten, junior high, college all over again, realizing I’m not much further along than anyone else.  But I didn’t come here to show off how smart I am.  I came to be challenged and to learn; to get out of my own blend of Foursquare-YWAM-Anne Lamott-C.S. Lewis-Erwin McManus theology and see things from new angles.

Yesterday there seemed to be a theme of the day – preparing for one’s Ph.D. program.  Wait, really?  Yes, everyone’s already pushing us past the finish line 2 years from now and getting us to stress about the next thing.  Boo.  The problem is, that’s already my natural tendency.  So I was thankful today when I hopped on the elliptical machine at the gym and cracked open Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies which I am reading only for the second time, thank you very much.  There was a poem there, or at least I think it was a poem, by Rumi, Lamott’s favorite Persian mystic.  And it spoke to me.

Keep walking, though there’s no place to get to.

Don’t try to see through the distances. That’s not for human beings.

Move within, but don’t move the way fear makes you move.

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.

Don’t open the door to the study

and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

But Rumi, I wanted to say, I’m in school! I have to begin reading.  Then I wondered, is there  a way to go about this season of studying where it resembles playing an instrument with abandon and joy more than it resembles shutting myself up in a stuffy room and poring endlessly over dusty books?  Can I accept that I am a human being, and seeing through the distance of the next two years is not for me to even attempt?  I love studying and learning and being around others who love it, too.  During my time at Fuller I want to embrace the beauty I see in learning, and turn it into an act of worship, a sacred bending to the earth and touching my forehead to the ground in reverence and joy.

Let Your Shoulders Down September 9, 2009

Norwegians have this saying about letting your shoulders down.  As in, “I finally finished that article I was writing and now I can let my shoulders down for a few days.”  The Norwegian language is very literal, so when they talk about relaxing, it makes sense to call it what it is: letting the tension leave your body.  Lately I’ve been waking up in the morning with my shoulders up around my ears, erasing my neck so I look like a worried turtle or something.  Not to whine or anything, but it totally sucks to not be able to relax even while sleeping.

Since I’ve been back from Norway, my life has been in constant flux.  My summer in a nutshell: Reverse culture shock.  Live with grandparents, work in Santa Clarita.  Move to Pasadena, work in Pasadena.  Lose job, freak out.  Plans, plans, plans.  Start casually dating a boy.  Best friend’s bridal shower.  Odd subbing jobs here an there.  Occasional meltdowns at the uncertainty of life.  Bachelorette party in Vegas.  Get two new jobs in one week.  Car tire catches on fire and brakes must be replaced. Move apartments; live alone for two weeks for the first time ever.   Best friend gets married.  Freak out about money.  Casually dated boy moves to Oregon.  Start new job.  Last working car door handle breaks off.  Two girls I’ve never met before move in as my roommates. 

I’ve been single for (yikes) 4 years now and in that singleness, especially traveling around the world alone, I’ve started to learn the importance of being a spouse to myself.  Of being my own caretaker and advocate, the one who says, “No, honey, you’ve done enough for one day.  Put your feet up and relax for a little bit” or “Lighten up, babe.  Go have a drink and some fun with your friends.”  That may sound crazy but it’s better than the self-flagellation I’ve tried in other seasons.  But right now, as my own interim spouse, I’m flummoxed.  In all this craziness, I’m not even sure what I need.  A chunk of solid downtime?  A night to let loose with good friends?  An intense kickboxing class?  Answers A, B, and C? 

Also, I’m stressing about my stress.  Just like icing on a cake, right?  Because I’m about to start a brand new season: I’m going to Fuller Theological Seminary to begin my Master of Arts in Theology.  I’m going back to school.  Talk about a life change!  And if I had my way, I would have a few weeks to be peaceful and quiet and reflect on this new approaching season, slowly working through my to-do list to prepare for classes to start.  But instead I’ve been up to my ears in change and busyness and self-inflicted worry.  I expected a few small rapids when I first returned to the States, but then I thought I’d have a lull for most of the summer before I hit the big falls coming in a couple weeks.  Instead, it’s been constant swirling currents and I’ve had to fall asleep with my oar in my hands.

I read an Anne Lamott essay today where she discussed the idea that “when everything starts going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born.”  This summer, it’s been almost impossible for me to focus, to rest, to reflect.  Maybe it’s a good thing that I’ve been distracted, unable to ruminate on every possible scenario, so that whatever’s going to be born in this new season will delight me the way only a surprise can.

Orientation doesn’t start for another 11 days, and classes start a week after that.  So between then and now, I hope that, distracted or not, I’ll have the chance to lay my paddle across my knees, let my shoulders down and float for a bit.

Friends Blog Too! September 8, 2009

Just added a couple of friends’ blogs to the ol’ blogroll and wanted to give them a proper introduction on Eeper.  Peter Verdell is a new friend this summer; we like to talk about books and theology, he was responsible for my inaugural viewing of The Royal Tenenbaums, he’s a great singer/songwriter musician type of guy, and he owns a cat that I actually like.  Peter’s blog is called “Hi, Everything’s Great!”  He doesn’t post too often but I still enjoy it, especially his ”Open letter to the tall, thin girl @ 24 hour fitness.”  Peter doesn’t have many pictures of himself on his blog, but I like this one because it shows Peter (in the red shirt on the right) in his standard uniform and doing something he loves: picnic and a movie at Hollywood Forever cemetery (and amazingly, I have not once been able to make it out there this summer!)

The other site I added to my blogroll, anna matilda josefin,  belongs to my dear friend Matilda Blomgren, who I staffed with in Norway, along with her then-fiance Rickard.  Matilda is a unique, beautiful, intelligent girl and has a dizzying array of talents and abilities.  I think one of my favorite things about Matilda is how she has perfected the blend of tomboy and girly-girl.  How does she do it?  I don’t know how I could have gotten through my time in Norway without her, and I love that her Swedish blog now has a translation option so I can read about what’s going on instead of just trying to guess from the pictures.  The translator is a bit funky, so you just have to go with it.  Oh, and Matilda is a brilliant photographer, and really beautiful, so even if you don’t read the posts it’s nice just to have a look.  Here’s our Swedish friend in her Swedish glory: