I do believe that the clutter of everyday work, to-do lists and schedules gets in the way of our spirituality (and at the same time provides access to it). I have always felt that it is easier to be a monk in a monastery than a monk in the middle of a bustling city with a busy schedule and a demanding job. But that what the world needs and what is perhaps most honorable is the latter.
Nevertheless, as I wind down at work, I notice my listening is re-tuning. For the last several years, I have spent great effort tuning myself to accomplishment. I listen for what needs to be done to move a project forward and focus on doing it, or at the very least, making sure somebody does it. And I have taken great pride in that.
What I am noticing now is that I am re-tuning my listening a bit. Tuning it to listen for adventure, guides, spirits. And it has produced a subtle but fundamental shift in my life over the last few weeks. I am noticing little things. I am bumping into people I haven't seen since college and having great conversations with them. I was walking down St. Charles Avenue today and there was an old lady with a bag in her hand slowly walking into her apartment building. I noticed that the door wasn't automatic and stopped and opened it for her. It was natural and obvious. Was this the first time I walked by that old lady or seen that old friend or had I just never noticed them? Perhaps, they were always there but my attention was focused on something else. It seems like the magic and unpredictability of the world returns as I retune. And so, life is not the mundane and predictable to survive with as much efficiency and effectiveness as possible. It is a meandering and wandering journey of wonder to be discovered.
I think for me, college was a time when I was an adventurer, journeying through life. I hadn't yet put down roots, found my life partner or fully formed my work or career identity. I was on a journey of discovery. And my attention was on what messages and answers the world might provide, what directions it might point me in. But for the last several years, I had found some of the answers to some of those questions about what I want to do with my life, who I want to be with, where I want to live, how I want to make a living, etc. I had stopped looking for directions and, therefore, stopped noticing them. And, while secure and safe, life dulled a bit.
As I prepare to pack my backpack again and wander on, I welcome the return to the journey. It is freeing to reject the previous answers again and put the questions back out for new answers. I look forward to seeing what I find (which may in fact be the same answers I just let go!)
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Recovery
I went through surgery on Friday on my sinuses. While most folks seem to agree, it is a fairly routine surgery (my doctor has done 100 of them per year for the last 20+ years), it still requires general anasthesea and a few weeks of recovery.
So, I haven't left the house in three days. My weekend has consisted of moments of persistent discomfort combined with nice mellow vicotin highs and a general sense of boredom and restlessness (which seems to peak around 5 pm every day when the house gets its hottest). Around that time today, I got a five word e-mail from my brother that said, "You a NetFlix guy?? Get 180* South....."
So, I went to Netflix and found this movie, which proved to be the inspiring story of two generations of climbers and surfers and their work with Conservacion Patagonia in Chile/Argentina. The combination of the movie, the weather getting hot and it being a Monday with nothing to do but heal, I found myself in a place I haven't remembered being in since college. I would sit in the heat in New Orleans in either early or late summer and think about the places to where I wanted to travel. Usually it was the Collegiate and Elk mountains of Colorado, the Himalayas outside of Dharamsala, India, the Olympic National Park off the coast of Washington or the deserts of Western Australia.
In quiet contrast to the city, my heart would have this yearning for open space and the peace and fulfillment that comes with it. Camping. Hiking. Climbing. Being outdoors til your body is tired out and your spirit is full. And there is an openness about it that gets lost in any routine that involves an office, a regular commute, a car or city-dependent life. It is like the magic of the world doesn't fit as well into those tight spaces as it does into the open ones.
So, my recovery may be well underway from my sinus surgery (of which I will spare you the graphic and inspiring details that mostly consist of blood and snot), a different kind of possibility of recovery is emerging. This is the recovery from the routines and monotonies that for the most part make up our American way of life. Those that focus far more on the doing of life than the being, more on the future than the present, and more on controlling life than experiencing it. And with the recovery comes a return to the adventure that is perhaps somewhere closer to our spirit's true nature.
So, I haven't left the house in three days. My weekend has consisted of moments of persistent discomfort combined with nice mellow vicotin highs and a general sense of boredom and restlessness (which seems to peak around 5 pm every day when the house gets its hottest). Around that time today, I got a five word e-mail from my brother that said, "You a NetFlix guy?? Get 180* South....."
So, I went to Netflix and found this movie, which proved to be the inspiring story of two generations of climbers and surfers and their work with Conservacion Patagonia in Chile/Argentina. The combination of the movie, the weather getting hot and it being a Monday with nothing to do but heal, I found myself in a place I haven't remembered being in since college. I would sit in the heat in New Orleans in either early or late summer and think about the places to where I wanted to travel. Usually it was the Collegiate and Elk mountains of Colorado, the Himalayas outside of Dharamsala, India, the Olympic National Park off the coast of Washington or the deserts of Western Australia.
In quiet contrast to the city, my heart would have this yearning for open space and the peace and fulfillment that comes with it. Camping. Hiking. Climbing. Being outdoors til your body is tired out and your spirit is full. And there is an openness about it that gets lost in any routine that involves an office, a regular commute, a car or city-dependent life. It is like the magic of the world doesn't fit as well into those tight spaces as it does into the open ones.
So, my recovery may be well underway from my sinus surgery (of which I will spare you the graphic and inspiring details that mostly consist of blood and snot), a different kind of possibility of recovery is emerging. This is the recovery from the routines and monotonies that for the most part make up our American way of life. Those that focus far more on the doing of life than the being, more on the future than the present, and more on controlling life than experiencing it. And with the recovery comes a return to the adventure that is perhaps somewhere closer to our spirit's true nature.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Hail and Farewell
This is my first blog post.
Today is my last official day working for the Mississippi Center for Justice, and the first time really tallying up that I've been affiliated with them for almost 5 years now. Upon entering my second year of law school at Ole Miss, MCJ was a welcome escape, my week-long window back into the communities that most inspire me. Communities with stories of resistance, reconciliation, and possibility. I didn't know then that my time volunteering through the Student Hurricane Network would completely alter the course of my burgeoning career. That I'd meet my husband through our shared passion for service and New Orleans. That I'd become this regional persona--the Mississippi half of a MS/LA partnership.
In true Biloxi style, my office organized a small lunch party in my honor, catered by my former clients, a family owned business named La Bamba Latino Store (great authentic Mexican comfort food). There were also two cakes, one a delicious surprise from my clients that read simply "Thank you Annette" and a smaller one "Best Wishes Annette." We talked about my upcoming travels in the very general and broad approach that I've adopted since we've first started sharing our plans. Usually my response is "I can't give you the specifics, Ham has been handling that," versus a more honest answer. That I've been pulled in too many directions lately to focus on this most intimate piece of work. Or that I am intentionally embracing the unknown and resisting the details.
I am present to how departures of this sort bring up childhood memories for me. As an Army Brat I am well versed in the language and emotions of goodbyes, but they have never been easy for me. I am a charismatic lover of people and place, and departures have typically involved some force outside of my control...a bombing in Riyadh, a promotion, my parents desire to move closer to "home" etc. Now I find myself as cause in the matter, the reason for this latest journey is simply because "we say."
It has been difficult to detach myself from the work and the communities that has greatly accelerated my personal and professional growth and development. How does one say goodbye when all of the victories have not yet been celebrated, and there is always more work to do? How do you leave when you feel that you haven't done enough, could have worked smarter/longer/harder/better (insert any adjective here)? My current answer is that you declare it complete, you accept the love and acknowledgement, and trust that the greater purpose for our shared time together is still unfolding.
I drove home and picked up my husband, dropped off the best wishes cake, and brought the thank you one to a session with a small Episcopal service corps group that Ham and I had agreed to meet with weeks ago (but only remembered this morning). We were to talk to them about our work and personal stories through an analysis of race and class. What occurred was a really delightful conversation with thoughtful year long volunteers dancing the YERP (young educated rebuilding professional) dance, of locals vs. outsiders, brown vs. white, privileged vs. poor. Each of them at various stages in the development of their relationship with their Creator, and the shared experience that through community and learning the stories of others, they strengthened their own spiritual calling. There were many moments throughout our 2 hour conversation where I was reminded that I am them and they are me.
This is the experience that I am searching for on our trip, that oneness across all of the languages, lines, and check points that occur as boundaries. I am a clearing for people to share their stories and feel connected. And I am increasingly excited when I experience the spaces that Hamilton and I are able to create together!
Hamilton closed the night out by very sweetly asking that we all say a prayer for his impending surgery (he's having his sinuses drained in the morning). The group happily obliged, creating a friendly game of who could find the appropriate passage in the Common Prayers Book. We left feeling protected and covered.
Today is my last official day working for the Mississippi Center for Justice, and the first time really tallying up that I've been affiliated with them for almost 5 years now. Upon entering my second year of law school at Ole Miss, MCJ was a welcome escape, my week-long window back into the communities that most inspire me. Communities with stories of resistance, reconciliation, and possibility. I didn't know then that my time volunteering through the Student Hurricane Network would completely alter the course of my burgeoning career. That I'd meet my husband through our shared passion for service and New Orleans. That I'd become this regional persona--the Mississippi half of a MS/LA partnership.
In true Biloxi style, my office organized a small lunch party in my honor, catered by my former clients, a family owned business named La Bamba Latino Store (great authentic Mexican comfort food). There were also two cakes, one a delicious surprise from my clients that read simply "Thank you Annette" and a smaller one "Best Wishes Annette." We talked about my upcoming travels in the very general and broad approach that I've adopted since we've first started sharing our plans. Usually my response is "I can't give you the specifics, Ham has been handling that," versus a more honest answer. That I've been pulled in too many directions lately to focus on this most intimate piece of work. Or that I am intentionally embracing the unknown and resisting the details.
I am present to how departures of this sort bring up childhood memories for me. As an Army Brat I am well versed in the language and emotions of goodbyes, but they have never been easy for me. I am a charismatic lover of people and place, and departures have typically involved some force outside of my control...a bombing in Riyadh, a promotion, my parents desire to move closer to "home" etc. Now I find myself as cause in the matter, the reason for this latest journey is simply because "we say."
It has been difficult to detach myself from the work and the communities that has greatly accelerated my personal and professional growth and development. How does one say goodbye when all of the victories have not yet been celebrated, and there is always more work to do? How do you leave when you feel that you haven't done enough, could have worked smarter/longer/harder/better (insert any adjective here)? My current answer is that you declare it complete, you accept the love and acknowledgement, and trust that the greater purpose for our shared time together is still unfolding.
I drove home and picked up my husband, dropped off the best wishes cake, and brought the thank you one to a session with a small Episcopal service corps group that Ham and I had agreed to meet with weeks ago (but only remembered this morning). We were to talk to them about our work and personal stories through an analysis of race and class. What occurred was a really delightful conversation with thoughtful year long volunteers dancing the YERP (young educated rebuilding professional) dance, of locals vs. outsiders, brown vs. white, privileged vs. poor. Each of them at various stages in the development of their relationship with their Creator, and the shared experience that through community and learning the stories of others, they strengthened their own spiritual calling. There were many moments throughout our 2 hour conversation where I was reminded that I am them and they are me.
This is the experience that I am searching for on our trip, that oneness across all of the languages, lines, and check points that occur as boundaries. I am a clearing for people to share their stories and feel connected. And I am increasingly excited when I experience the spaces that Hamilton and I are able to create together!
Hamilton closed the night out by very sweetly asking that we all say a prayer for his impending surgery (he's having his sinuses drained in the morning). The group happily obliged, creating a friendly game of who could find the appropriate passage in the Common Prayers Book. We left feeling protected and covered.
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