juggling.

Spring has come to Denver and the buskers are taking over the 16th Street Mall.

Yesterday as I was running errands (read: trying not to spend money at Tattered Cover), I passed many buskers, but one stood out.

The guy – I wish I had a picture to explain this – This guy had a xylophone and three drumsticks. He was juggling the drumsticks and using them to play the xylophone at the same time.

It was kind of amazing.

I’ll be honest, he wasn’t up to 100% yet. His juggling was perfect, but he still missed some notes.

And, because I think too hard most of the time, and it was a bad day anyway, I got to thinking.

Right now, I feel like one of those drumsticks.

I’m flying through the air and other people and things are whizzing by me. And while I know that there’s someone out there helping me do this right – that I’m not going to fall down and hit the pavement – sometimes, I just don’t quite make it to the right note. There are times when I do and the sound rings out and it’s so satisfying – but there are times when I don’t, and I just keep flying through the air – and a gap is left in the music around me.

Somehow I have to get more in touch with the juggler. Fit his hand better, behave less erratically, allow myself to be moved and molded and not fight gravity so strongly.

Because when the music plays fully, it’s beautiful.

(Also, and completely unrelated, Peter and I are [attempting to] post reflections on the lectionary here)

someday i’ll be a frog

live loyally today
–grow–
and tomorrow will attend to itself.
the quickest way for a tadpole to become a frog
is to live loyally each moment
as a tadpole.

(i know, two posts in one day, but so fitting i couldn’t resist)

lean in. find joy.

I sat down last night on the 1970s-era couch in my little Episcopal church full of old ladies and gay couples for 20 minutes of silent prayer with my Benedictines.

(God, I love that I can write sentences like that.)

I sat down to pray and all I could say was “I need stability. Keep something the same. Let me sit in one place long enough to grow into it.”

And the response was laughter. “Katie, you exist in 15 square blocks. And you’re asking for stability?”

And I said “I just want space to grow. To seek. To figure things out.”

And the response was “You better find space now, because things aren’t going to calm down for a while”

And I said “But…”

And the response was “Lean into your life! Take a risk and allow yourself to fall. You will be caught. There is sunshine and beauty and music and happiness all around you, waiting for you to see it. How long will you allow yourself to be new here? How long will you resist this place as home? Don’t you want to mourn when you leave?”

And I said “No, I don’t, I’m tired of mourning!”

And the response was “Then why did you come at all?”

When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. – Khalil Gibran

Open the cage. Spread your wings. Lean into the wind and the storm. Find joy.

!

July 12, 2009
Olbrich Botanical Gardens
Madison, Wisconsin

one hour of self-reflection

“Not a little misery and confusion arise from the fact that through our own guilt we do not understand ourselves and do not know who we are. Would it no seem a terrible ignorance if one had no answer to give to the question, who one was, who his parents were, and from what country he came? If this were a sign of bestial incomprehension, an incomparably worse stupidity would prevail in us, if we did not take care to learn what we are, but contented ourselves with these bodies, and consequently knew only superficially, from heresay, because faith teaches us, that we had a soul. But what treasures the soul may harbor within it, who dwells in it, and what great value it has, these are the things we seldom consider, and hence people are so little concerned with preserving their beauty with all care.”
~ Theresa of Avila, The Interior Castle ~

I am not a big believer in signs and messages from heaven – perhaps that is why it always seems that when God has something to say to me, it suddenly becomes unmistakably clear.

I have slowly, over the last few months, begun to realize that as I have lived and worked and been in Denver, I have gradually become more distant from myself – from self-awareness, self-understanding, confidence, and cognizance of the Holy. I have mostly dealt with this feeling of distance by infusing distractions into my life – the television, or a good novel, or a nap, or endless games of solitaire.

And then suddenly, in the last few days, the words of others have solidified this feeling, this struggle, and called me into some sort of action.

At my performance evaluation for work, my supervisors told me that the work I do is solid and good and much-needed – but that I need to create opportunities to build camaraderie with the other staff members.

They asked me what I wanted my time here to be – and, partly because I had just returned from vacation, I had no answer.

Then, at a Sufi worship ceremony at Iliff last night, the Shyakh shared the wisdom “One hour of meditation on oneself is worth 30 hours of worship. If we do not understand ourselves, how can we understand our creator?”

At work, they suggested I begin by studying the enneagram – particularly from a Christian perspective. And so I will start from there, and attempt to walk slowly back into self-knowledge and contemplative practice. I will begin to rebuild the self I knew and was 8 months ago – in order to understand the self I do not know, but am now.

“If these years are my desert, I must use the desert to find God.”