Earth. Mount Vernon. This time and place. Everywhere.
Not so long after the last update. Still heading towards October. Desperate for Halloween inspiration. I wanted us to be the Spice Girls (only rule: Chaya can't be Baby Spice) but most of my costume searches have turned up empty. I've considered Potty Monkey, Chaya's absolute favorite Youtube clip right now.
It's still on the table, but it might be kind of cold. I mean, I don't even really have Halloween plans, but it's early yet. But damnit, I love me my Halloween costumes.
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| Maybe Chaya could be Hoggle? |
In the meantime, I'm slogging through my various balancing acts like a be-tutu-ed brown bear riding a unicycle on a tightrope. Or like a me being vaguely aware of different desires and priorities.
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| And socks! Still have socks! |
I'm proud to say that I've munched my way through 30 of my 40 required CLE credits! I need all 40 completed before December 31st in order to stay an active member of the Washington State Bar. It's enough of a pain getting re-activated that even if I'm not really practicing law at the moment, I'd rather just stay "active." The long-term plan is to complete an April training to become a Title 11 Guardian ad Litem. Being a Title 11 GAL is basically speaking on behalf of adults deemed incompetent to represent themselves in legal issues - rife for abuse according to a recent John Oliver expose, but I like to think I'd do good stuff instead of evil. Then next year, I'd like to do the training for Title 26 GALs, which would make me the voice of children in family law cases. This is something I've wanted to do for a long while. It's also a something where good GALs are sorely lacking and overbooked in Whatcom and Skagit County. Both of these require presence at various hearings so it would require some more movement with childcare if I get started before kindergarten, but would be far more doable than a 9-5.
Physically I just indulged in a massaged, which loosened up some of that granite that comprises most of my body these days. I'm still a bit tight. I've got the usual radiculopathy, shin splints, busted discs and arthritis. But I'm being dogged about my morning yoga and evening stretching. And my whenever strength training. Things are better.
Internally, I gave up on trying to wean form the omeprazole for a while. After a little over a week at full dose again, I seem to just be re-reaching equilibrium. Still have to watch what I eat and still have discomfort, but a very tolerable discomfort. I know I can't stay on these forever but, I want help the next time I try. Figures my body would be that sensitive and experience atypical rebound. I'm a delicate acid-spewing flower!
Psychologically, I'm reapproaching the situation of being highly sensitive (hyper-acute nervous system for the whee!). I think in a lot of ways, I talk myself through a small book's worth of thoughts and issues every day. I know myself fairly well. I call myself out a lot. I recognize my tendencies. I am intimately familiar with my own navel and have been peeking at all the navels of those around me. I don't desperately need a safe space and guidance to talk MORE (though I'll take that too) as much as something more structured and more practical. How do I handle what happens when I get overstimulated? What can I do to re-center myself? How do I set healthy boundaries understanding my own limitations without letting fear of hitting those overwhelm me either. How do I nurture my inner sensitive side? How do I surround myself with the beautiful and meaning that I'm wired to crave.How do I accept myself when sometimes my sensitivities make me a drag. So I'm working with that. Meditation. Yoga. Mindfulness. I'm a walking stereotype in my very white upper-middle class female thirties.
Spiritually, I'm kind of unsure where I am. Well that's not entirely accurate. I am in the here. I am part of an interconnected universe of being.
I may be a little woo, but what of that? The Divine to me is the connection, totality and love of all things, which transcends time and finite boundaries of consciousness. Honoring that in others. Finding that in myself. I can't say that'll lead me to some kind of horrible stand-off with law enforcement, denial of necessary healthcare for me or my loved ones, use of my woo to justify oppressing others, or purchase of dubious products to align my inner child's chakras. And it brings me great depth of joy to connect with that love in the world around me. Practically speaking, it also seems to activate my parasympathetic nervous system and help me navigate the world in a calmer more open fashion. Plus, I'm an HSP. We need a little woo. We wilt a bit without it.
I connect with the Episcopal Church in a few ways: (1) it's a welcoming and open human language to connect with the greater truth that transcends any single doctrine; (2) it's a dialectical approach that connects with my liberal arts/Great Books/Over-educated/overthinking-loving doubting kind of approach to life; (3) it's a story about who I am and who my family is, because those were my roots and every ritual has deeply entrenched meaning.
I found St. Paul's MV through Helen, who perfectly embodied the messages I needed to hear when we met. She has grace in chaos, hilarity in solemnity, and a full embrace of the darkness that is part of the light. Like me on a good day, she dabbles with the messiness of being human that is in itself divine. Her sermons cut right to my soul and she could stop in the middle of a conversation to say "should we pray" and make it sound less stilted than natural and fantastic. So I started attending services. That they lacked childcare was irrelevant because Sunday mornings are daddy-daughter time anyways.
Then Helen left and I was a bit in an empty space. That's good and bad. When I'm sitting I often think of myself as a rock hovering in mid-air. Neither going up anymore, but not yet going down. Just there. In my best places, I embrace that as the essence of being alive. But sometimes I want to peek around and guess at future trajectories.Will I land in a beautiful splash in the pond? Or will I clash down on some little brother's head?
The MV community is just lovely and I've come to have a strong fondness for so many of the members. I love that I can feel genuinely and warmly greeted and appreciated every week, despite little outside engagement. I can run up and hug these people and they genuinely expresslove for that moment. I don't really feel that in other social venues at this point.If I go to a preschool meetup, it's fun, but I'm not running up and yelling "PEACE" to another parent while grabbing them in a bear hug. Maybe back in my blues days, that was pretty common, but it's still a rarity to find oneself immersed in such an immediately open culture when you're kind of a reserved person.
But it isn't what it was when Helen was there. And there is no greater community for families.That becomes more apparent in Helen's absence.
I was ready to throw my hands up and just go to church with my dad, but there were some inklings that I might be able to help. Andrew, in a whirlwind of supportiveness, even seemed to be encouraging me to take more of a place in setting up childcare in order to make the community more open to young families. Maybe we got caught up in problem solving mode, after a meeting or two where it seemed like maybe the community was missing things that were vital for longterm survival. Somehow I felt like I was there for a reason and should be more involved. And I think if they want to continue on for more than a few years, they need to make room for families. They need youth programs. They need ways to incorporate children into the services. They need all of this.
So I signed up for a few committees and started researching. There are some really cool, very liberal programs. There are some fun and amazing options for making kids feel more included and welcome in services. I mean, zoocharist! I love it!
But the more excited I got and the more I started talking about what I was learning, the more I realized how uncomfortable it was making Andrew (the agnostic secular Jew who hasn't an ounce of woo in his body and doesn't meditate so much as pass out in a sitting position). And ultimately, I understood I was planning all these things for a demographic that didn't include us. I mean, Andrew didn't start screaming "don't brainwash my kid" every time I mentioned something the slightest bit scriptural, but there were suggestions for different approaches, perhaps, that belied such sentiment. I don't think that Christian parents are really looking for an overwhelmingly secular childcare program necessarily. I mean not that we shouldn't all dress in black and sing Philip Glass (South Park? Anyone?) during the winter pageant or just throw on Daniel Tiger and give the kids some oranges. But I think that a church has an existential investment in at least passing on the traditions of their faith to children.
I honestly, think that stories are symbols and greater truths. Whether that be bible stories or Dr. Seuss, I don't see the difference. But some people do.
Which gave me pause. It reawakened some sadness about not having a future of spiritual presence with my family. A little defensiveness that something so dear to my heart is viewed with a little suspicion by somebody so close to my heart. But it also made me wonder why I might work extremely hard trying to set up a program that will never cater to my own family. I want to be giving and paying it forward, but surely there's something I can find where my investment will go towards our own famly as well.
Perhaps not. This isn't me saying "I want to go back to work now!!" by the way.
I want to hear sermons that touch me so deeply I feel like I've had a psychic cleansing. I want to embrace community members. I want to sing together. Close my eyes and be vulnerable together. I want to be somewhere with a shared purpose and value. And I want to share that with my daughter and husband somehow. But we don't always get what we want. So reintroducing the balancing act.
I guess ultimately this probably just means status quo. I won't push any major changes at MV and I'll let the glacial pace of vestry affairs slowly let me off the hook in terms of commitments. I'll go when I go and Andrew and Chaya will continue to have their time as always. He'll offer sometimes to drop by a church party or whatever and I'll be grateful but reserved and maybe put him off and maybe not. I'll go to Bellingham with my dad. I'll remain open and eager to go to Jewish services if Andrew ever wants to. I'll try gently to introduce some of my family traditions to Chaya and continue discussing mindfullnes, compassion, and whatever else with her. I'll tell her people believe many things and then I'll tell her what I believe. And I'll feel unsure what else beyond that. I'll be unsatisfied. But the human condition is dissatisfaction. I'll sit. I'll pray. And it will make me feel better physically as well as psychologically and spiritually.
Oh or I'll go ahead and honor my commitments and find a cute couple of kids at Sunday school and they can be my church family like how people have work spouses. The possibilities!
And maybe if I'm lucky I'll have a flash of Halloween inspiration, because the time is coming, man!
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