One Wild and Precious Life

Holiday Weekend

Wow!  I checked a lot of categories; I guess I have a lot to say tonight.  It's the eve of a holiday for me -- not exactly a "holiday weekend," as my title implies, but a day off my normal routine, at least.  Ordinarily, it would have been Friday, Saturday, and Monday off, with only the morning service at church.  But this week I had a wedding rehearsal on Friday (with rehearsal dinner afterward), the wedding itself Saturday morning (with reception luncheon afterward), and two sermons to write, one for the wedding, one for Trinity Sunday at church.  So all I get is a day, but ah, what a lovely day I've got planned!  But sigh -- I don't think the weather is going to cooperate -- 60% chance of rain tomorrow. 

When I was a little girl, my mother and I would go camping on Memorial Day Weekend; it was the opening of the summer camping and recreation season.  Our habitual haunt was Raccoon Lake State Recreation Area, about 1/2 hour from our home.  We would set up our tent in a campsite just inside the edge of the woods, so there was plenty of shade, and plenty of trees from which my mother would string rope to hang large sheets of plastic.  The plastic sheltered our campsite from rain, but also from any debris that might fall from the trees.  It made a cozy, covered "living space" under which we'd place our picnic tables, our food and supplies, and our Coleman camp stove.  The campfire would be outside the plastic "roof," of course.  My camping memories are lovely ones, but it nearly always rained on Memorial Day weekend.  There was usually enough sunshine and warmth to make the adventure worthwhile, but yes, we got rain, too.  Memorial Day Weekend was always punctuated with the plip, plip, plip of raindrops on the plastic overhead, with a wet sleeping bag where our canvas tent got wet, and the need to wear warm jeans, socks, and a sweatshirt, rather than the brand new swimsuit and flip flops I had for the summer. So tomorrow will remind me of my childhood camping days, I fear.

Some of the things I've planned I can still do inside, rather than outside on my porch:

A little creative work can certainly be done inside, though I confess that it really feels more like carefree play when I'm on the sunny back porch.

But there are also lots of things that can't happen inside, and almost certainly won't happen.  I can't really burn my brush pile at all, because we got a couple of downpours today.  It really takes 2-3 days of dry weather to dry out my brush well enough to burn, especially since some of it is still fairly green and recent trimming, and some fair-size logs that I pulled out of the wood chips that were given to me.

I'm not going to want to wrestle wood-chip mulch for my labyrinth in the rain.

I'm not sure even one whole day could make much progress in my veggie garden.  I was actually going to pay someone to come and help me clear out the jungle that it has become, but he called a couple of days ago and said he's been in an auto accident, and now he really can't help me.  If I still want help, I'm going to have to find someone else.  Of course, the pouring rain is a pretty good time to pull weeds -- lots of nice, soft earth, if I don't mind getting filthy and soaked (but that's the gardener's lot, anyway!).

So this probably isn't going to happen for me tomorrow, but I may get something done:

Oh, my, but it looks so lovely and orderly!

But perhaps I'll get a run with the dogs in between rain showers.  My weight loss is continuing; I'm still keeping my rules about increasing activity and eating salads and not drinking alcohol (though I had 2 glasses of wine at the wedding rehearsal dinner).  I'm a little frustrated because I seem to have hit a plateau last week, despite good behavior (I do expect it after 14 pounds, and am surprised it didn't come sooner!), and now over the weekend, I ate and drank more than I should have, even though I came home and was a perfect little paragon of dietary virtue.  So that scale isn't really budging just now -- but it will again, O it will!  A new indulgence I've discovered is Crystal Light Sunrise Tangerine Strawberry.  Oh, yum, yum.  I've known about Crystal Light since the first time I went to Weight Watchers in 1989, but I never tried it until just a couple of weeks ago.  Oh, my.  Oh, yum.  It kind of reminds me of having a pitcher of Kool-Aid around when I was a young married girl.  My only caution is that I can just about overdose on Aspartame, if I'm not careful.  And despite what I heard at Weight Watchers oh, these many years ago, it really doesn't substitute for good, clear, filtered water.

Today, of course, I preached on the doctrine of the Trinity, since it's Trinity Sunday.  If you're even slightly interested, I highly recommend Karen Armstrong's latest, The Case for God.  She does a really, really great job of describing the development of the doctrine of the Trinity, which was originally intended as a spiritual exercise that, rather than being fully understood, was meant to show us how utterly incomprehensible God actually is.  We were never meant to understand the Trinity.  And furthermore, faith originally had little to do with intellectual comprehension and agreement, but rather with loyalty and commitment.  Whether I understand the Trinity, whether I agree with the Church's doctrine of the Trinity, I stand behind and within it, and I commit my whole being to the Triune God and the teachings of Christ.  That's all that really matters!

While we're talking about books, I'm also listening to a really great one.  Most of my fiction "reading" is done in the car as I drive on my daily errands, visits, and meetings.  I'm currently listening to The Help by Kathryn Stockett.  It's one I can barely "put down" -- I want to just keep driving and driving so I can hear more and more of this story.

So tomorrow I plan to sleep in (which seems to mean about 7:30 these days, since I go to bed so early), get some exercise, and do some creative work.  I plan to play a lot and work just a little.  I might get some yard work done.  I feel very grateful for this good little life of mine.  I hope you all have something delicious planned for your day off!

First Snow

Fall has been and is still beautiful around here.  This is the best place for seasons that I've ever lived.  Each one is of roughly equal length, and none so severe as to impose serious hardship.  The length allows us to truly savor each one fully, and anticipate the coming of the next.  The colors are just about at full height right now; last week I had occasion to drive down off the mountain to Knoxville twice, and the brilliance of the leaves took my breath away.  There's simply no more beautiful place to live.

Now the bad news.  I have photos -- any number of photos.  I have a couple of autumn shots, and several of our first snow two nights ago.  But for some reason, Typepad is refusing to upload my photos tonight.  I've noticed that since their "new improved" format, my photos take a long time -- but tonight I gave two different ones over a half-hour, and they still didn't upload.  Maybe tomorrow.  Or something.  Or maybe I'll have to try another server.  I've certainly seen good results on the free blog servers.  I pay good money to get frustrated.  Sigh.

Anyway -- there are other things to say.  I've been thinking about lots and lots of things, and life has been good here in my little corner of Tennessee.  We've had a couple of nights of hard freeze, but temperatures are moderating, so I may still get some glorious time in the garden, preparing it for winter.  I've got volunteer lettuce coming up!  I've covered it with a row cover, so we'll see if it survived.  You know how I love gardening: it truly grounds me, both literally and metaphorically.  I think it's good to counter time spent in the lofty, heavenly reaches, with a bit of time shoveling manure onto vegetable beds.  It's the nature of us humans to reach toward heaven, but to also need to ground ourselves to our mother earth.

I had a root canal today, and feel pretty good (Tylenol is my friend).  It wasn't really painful, thank God.  I had one years ago that was excruciating -- but not today.  I'll tell you, though, it's not comforting to hear one's dentist say, "Uh-oh.  I don't like the look of that."  There I was, helpless, with my mouth gaping open, full of sharp tools.  When I told her that, though, she said that a worse thing to hear the dentist say is, "Oops."  I had to agree.  Now there's just the matter of paying her for the work, and the crown I'll receive next month.  Isn't it funny that they call that appointment "the delivery?"  I told them it sounds like childbirth, but they said it was a little like that, only they "don't go there" to that other end of the body, where childbirth happens.

I had an argument (yep, a real argument) with a parishioner a couple of weeks ago, and this person told me, "You just don't listen to us!"  Well, as someone who was a professional listener for 18 years, you can imagine that I was quite taken aback!  Then I realized that we English speakers tend to use "listen to" in a couple of different ways.  One is a simple attending to, receiving, and acknowledging information.  That's how I listen.  But there's another way we use it:  "listen to" can mean to obey.  Remember how we sometimes say to our kids, "Listen to me!"  We mean, "Do what I say!"  "You should have listened to me!" means "You should have done what I advised you to."  And in that sense, no, I often do not "listen" to my parishioners.  When I make a change in the way we do things at church, it is usually a well-thought out one, with due consideration given to pros, cons, and dissenting opinions.  Sometimes I act anyway, despite dissenting opinions.  This was one of those times -- but at least I understand the accusation a little better now.  No, I'm not the obedient "little woman" or "hired hand" that some may have imagined I would be.

I've been feeling a kind of restlessness.  Time is flying by.  As I said, two nights ago we had our first snow, and most of us missed it, because it fell overnight, as we slept.  Sometimes I feel as though I'm sleeping my way through the "first snows" of life a lot of the time.  On Monday a parishioner described the passing of time as though driving down the road with the telephone poles seeming to whizz past the windows -- that's how the days and weeks and months, and yes, even the years are whizzing by me -- sometimes I can almost hear them blowing past my ears like a strong wind.  It is three years now since I was in Italy; it's six years since I came here.  Just about this time of year I interviewed for this position, and it was the first week in November when they called me to be their Rector, and the second week in December when I finally arrived here, lock, stock, and barrel.  Where has the time gone?  My life keeps slipping away, and there is so much I want to do.  There are books to write, and countries to see -- whole chunks of the world that I haven't yet experienced.  There are all those black madonnas in Europe that I still haven't seen.  Yes, I've been to Costa Rica and the Caribbean since I was in Italy -- but I haven't been back to Europe, and I'm desperate to go.  And I just keep getting older.

Maybe this is how it feels sometimes as another year draws to a close.  Maybe this is how it feels to be getting older.  Maybe the time is coming for me to put on my traveling shoes once again.  Who knows?

But it amazes me that life can be so rich, and at the same time feel so elusive, so slippery.

I finished Joyce Rockwell Hudson's "Natural Spirituality: Recovering the Wisdom Tradition in Christianity."  I highly recommend it for those who want to pursue a Christian spirituality that allows for the teachings of Carl Jung, for listening to dreams (an old and esteemed biblical tradition), and for listening to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit that we sometimes carry within us.  It's a refreshing and stimulating breath of fresh air when you life in the land of fundamentalism.  Keep in mind that I only live 50 miles or so from Dayton, Tennessee, home of the Scopes Trial, and where opposition to the theory of evolution is alive and well in the churches.

I'm having a suit made -- knit gaucho pants and a jacket.  I know gauchos went out of style a couple of years ago, but I've got one pair that I wear to death because they're adaptable, flattering to my less-than-perfect body, and so very easy to wear.  I want them in every color, so I can wake up in the morning and dress like a guy -- gauchos, a top, a jacket, and look presentable to go wherever I need to.  If this suit (in a dark blue, not quite navy) is a success, I may have others made in different colors.  I used to sew -- I think I'd try it myself, but knit fabric is crucial, and I never learned to sew with knits -- it's a real art.

I've been developing another idea for a book.  This is the third idea that seems really, truly viable.  Now if I could just finish one of them.

These are some of the many things that seem to keep me away from this blog -- these things and also the frustration of not being able to post pictures.  Yep, I just tried again.  No go.  Typepad, please get it together, OK?

Down off the Mountaintop

Interesting that this Sunday's assigned readings are the Transfiguration -- the origin of that "down off the mountaintop" phrase.  That's what's on my mind tonight.  It hasn't been an entirely easy week and a half, coming back to the real world after my graduation weekend, which was both literally and metaphorically a mountaintop experience.  I came back to many pastoral care needs, large and small.  It's hard being in a parish made up primarily of retirement-age and older people who inevitably go from vibrant, active retirement to increasing frailty and illness, eventually to decline and death.  Just now one of my best-beloveds in the parish (I know, I shouldn't have favorites, but it's an impossible expectation) is facing very serious heart surgery.  His bride of only 12 years (they are both in their 80s) is worried sick.  He is amazingly calm and accepting, whatever the outcome of this risky procedure may be.  My heart is breaking.  And he's not the only one, of course.  It has happened over and over in my 5 years here, and will continue to happen more as my tenure here increases.  Yes, of course, there is always an influx of new members (mostly young, healthy retirees who move to this area, the retirement capital of the midwest), who I also come to love.  But that doesn't make the loss any less painful, even though I truly believe the ones who die are in a wonderful place.

I'm also left after my graduation with this great void, wondering, "Okay, what's next?"  I'm caught between wanting to create a dozen projects right away, in order to fill that void (the loss of a program I was passionate about), and on the other hand, suspecting that a bit of fallow time is probably what I need -- a time to grieve, a time to discern.  I already have a half-dozen projects in mind.  What I know is that I need to be doing something creative (more about this in a minute), something spiritual, and something physical.

I think I'm finally back on track with my exercise practices, which haven't been anything approaching normal since Christmas when I was sick.  I'm back to running with the dogs (well, what I call my "old lady runs" -- I run where it's downhill or flat, but mostly walk uphill, and it's quite hilly here in the mountains), and back to yoga.  I know when I run, it's definitely going to be a good day.  I attribute it to the endorphins that get kicked up when my heart rate elevates.  It's also good mindfulness practice, whether it's feeling how sore and out of breath I can get, delighting in the shenanigans of my dogs, or noticing the beauty of the geography where I live.  I credit yoga with changing my life.  It has taught me to love my body (yes, even this aching, overweight, aging body), and it quickly became a spiritual practice, as well.  There were times during savasana that I felt pure bliss -- enough to bring tears to my eyes and a song to my soul.  And I am poorer when I'm unable to get to 3 classes a week, since I can't seem to discipline myself to have a daily home practice.

I've actually been making some art since I got home.  Yesterday I went to a friend's birthday party.  She always invites 2-3 dozen women to come to lunch in some restaurant that can accommodate us all, and insists on "cards only, no gifts."  Some of us go to great lengths now to create handmade and elaborate cards -- I saw that at least half her cards (of course we pass them around the tables) were handmade: some very fine, some very simple, but all lovely.  I made a large card (perhaps 8x11 or 9x12 -- didn't measure) with a decoupaged picture of an angel (her theme this year), a hand-crafted border, and "Ave" (greetings) painted below, with my birthday wish on the back.  I should have photographed it for you!  I coated it with acrylic gloss finish and it was barely dry by the time I had to leave!  I had a picture in my head of what I wanted my greeting to look like, how I wanted to write it -- and it actually came out very much as I wanted it to.  That's new for me, and I think maybe artistic progress.  I'm getting technically just that teeny bit better so that I can come closer to realizing the vision that I have in my head.  I love that.  What fun it was!

Tonight I'm making a collage for the inside front page of my journal.  I thought it might be a black madonna.  I thought it might be something spiritual.  Turns out, once I got to my studio, I was drawn to my paper souvenirs from Italy, and it's going to be Italian (pictures, ticket stubs, business cards, etc -- I guess they're called "ephemera"), on a red acrylic painted background.  I'm usually surprised by what happens, and this one is no exception!

So I've got physical and creative practices back in my life.  You would think spiritual would be easy for a priest.  It is, in a way.  I pray daily, and I mean it when I pray -- it's not just an empty practice.  Wednesdays I do centering prayer, and in our savasana at yoga class (the "corpse pose," the resting period at the end) I do my best to clear my mind and just rest in the presence of the Holy.  But there's nothing setting my heart on fire just now.  When I was cramming my head with all those spiritual books, doing the suggested spiritual exercises, it all felt much more alive and passionate.  It will come again, I know -- probably sooner, rather than later.  But now it feels just a little blah.

There is some good news, I think.  An elderly parishioner has decided, it seems, to become my "fairy godmother."  She's a great and very interesting lady, recently received an inheritance from her beloved sister, and I think is doing a little "life review," having also lost her husband a year and a half ago.  She has no children, and I think she wants to leave a little something that will outlive her.  At any rate, she has offered to help financially with my sabbatical, but also wants me to write a book (or an outline and first chapter, at least), which she will shop around to various agents with whom she has connections -- she has published at least one book, and also sells her paintings.  I don't know if this will truly go anywhere at all, but it's kind of exciting to think about.  I don't even know if it's ethical -- I need to think and pray more about that, I suppose -- to accept all this assistance from her.  Perhaps I really need to channel the money into the church, since she's a member here.  I would never want to use my position as her priest for personal gain from her.  I need to talk to others, I think -- my Bishop and spiritual director, to start with.  I have no problem with the assistance with writing a book -- non-monetary help -- but I'm not so sure about the other.  Any thoughts?

No photos today.  As I said before, my digital camera is broken -- it's quite a bit outdated, anyway, and so needs to be replaced.  Only my phone camera works -- no flash, less megapixils.  Time to buy a new one, but it's on my list, after new glasses and car maintenance and some bills that need to be paid.  It may be summer before I can take really good shots!

Snow is predicted for tomorrow, February 1, but I know that by mid-month, the witch hazel will be blooming!  Spring is almost here!