Sunday night musings

Goodness! Life has been blowing by at such terrific speeds lately. This hasn't left much room for blogging but I promise that new postings are forthcoming.

Promise!

In the meantime, let me share with you two quotes that came to my attention recently.

"Like the roots of a tree, it's what lies beneath that allows us to grow."

~ Marin, Men in Trees

"When you do something, you should burn yourself completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself." ~ Shunryu Suzuki, Zen priest

I like this idea of reaching down in the core of one's being for all that nourishes us deeply as much as I like the idea of putting ourselves out there into the world with gusto and flourish. Both say much about this cycle of internal/external -- ebb/flow -- inhale/exhale. We must have both in our lives and the trick, methinks, is not only making room for them but balancing them once we have them. Something I've been mulling over lately.

T.A. Barron

In continuing my quest to find children's literature in which to escape (one can only read Harry Potter so many times), I came across T.A. Barron's The Great Tree of Avalon trilogy.

I was drawn to Barron and his books because of their focus on nature (at times, he is Tolkien in tone) and his attention to detail. Plum praise by Jane Goodall and Robert Redford didn't hurt either. Still, while those aspects of the books are appealing, I was more taken with his comments on prayer v. meditation and the environment.

These quotes are taken from The Great Tree of Avalon, Child of the Dark Prophecy:

"All right," she declared. "Try this. Prayer feels mostly like telling. Saying things to the gods - Dagda, Lorilanda, whoever. But meditation...that's different. Meditation feels less like telling, and more like, well, listening." (p. 44)

"Humans have great gifts, as Llynia said. And also great potential - not always realized, mind you, but there nonetheless - for helping other creatures less fortunate than ourselves. That means we need to apply our wisdom, inventiveness, and hard work to making the world a better place for all to live." (p. 228)


As I finished Book One, I was reminded to listen to what the Universe is trying to tell me rather than dump upon it all my recent worries and concerns.

As Hua Ha Ching once said:

"Do you imagine that the universe is agitated? Go into the desert at night and look out at the stars. This practice should answer the question."

The trick now is to spend time doing this and to be open to what I receive.

I'll keep you posted.

Trying to Understand Depression

"The Bluebird of Happiness long absent from his life, Ned is visited by the Chicken of Depression." ~ Gary Larson

Well, I figure that if I'm going to struggle with depression, I can at least find ways to laugh at it. Yep, it's true. Along with wild creativity, wit and the ability to weave a tale or two, I can also thank the Irish side of the family for passing along depression.

I don't think I even realized I struggled with it until I went away to grad school. There, isolated in Connecticut, I faced an environment that wasn't exactly friendly and certainly didn't offer enough sunlight. It was miserable...the sun would begin to set at 4.15pm in the wintertime. While there, I definitely struggled through some dark days, wondering about the point of life and trying to do small things to cope - like eating more fish, painting my bedroom walls white and getting high spectrum light bulbs to enhance the room's brightness.

Interestingly, I only began to notice a pattern in my behavior one winter when I decided to re-read my journal. Only then did I realize that from Christmas to about April, it took more energy to do just about everything.

***

For many years, I have been seeking to understand depression - what causes it and how to minimize its effects. I know that taking drugs works for many; however, my body has always rejected that which isn't natural, so I'm hesitant to try them.

What seems to work for me is a combination of the following:

1. Yoga - at least an hour per day but I'm finding that I do better with 1.5 hours.
   
2. Exercise - at least 30 minutes of cardiovascular activity a day.
   
3. Sunlight - lots of it.
   
4. NO sugar - really sends my moods in a quick spiral.
   
5. Humor - I definitely haven't been giggling enough lately.
6. Less stress - this means more light hearted entertainment - books, movies, etc..
7. More prayer.
8. More meditation.
9. More time spent with loved ones.
   

Some of these things are out of my control, like sunlight, however, others are entirely within my reach. The trick is motivating myself to do it.

Even if it's hard, I have to look upon this plan as "medicine" because sometimes I just don't know how to cope otherwise. I know I'll get through the darkness (to borrow a phrase from Jen), but I just wish it wasn't so hard sometimes.

Ash Wednesday

"We rise again from ashes to make ourselves anew."

I felt pulled to attend Ash Wednesday services tonight. It's been a little while since I last stepped into a Catholic Church, and I was amazed by how comforted I felt to re-embrace my Catholicism.

Lately, I've been feeling like something crucial has been missing from my life, and I know that part of it has to do with the absence of a spiritual community. Don't misunderstand me. I'm not certain if Catholicism is for me anymore. I still take issue with some of the Catholic Church's doctrines. However, I was raised Catholic and there is such beauty to much of its theology - to denounce it simply because I am against other aspects (rights for women, etc...) doesn't make sense to me either. I cannot bring myself to do it.

When I allow myself to reflect upon my spiritual journey, I think about all the searching and pondering I've done over the years and where that has taken me.

As a child, my faith was incredibly strong (I was determined to become St. Kelly because I was horrified that all the Kellys out there did not have a patron saint). Not only did I have faith in the Church, but I also had faith in myself. Even during the rough spots, I knew that I was being carried. I felt so secure.

I even attended a Catholic women's college, where it was cool to pray and to explore one's faith with others. I flourished there and felt so comfortable with myself and my lot in life. Essentially, I trusted that I was being taken care of and "held" in some great spiritual way.

This lasted until about my second year at Yale. My years at Yale found me in turmoil. Suddenly, everything that I held fast to, including my faith, seemed to crumble in front of me: my parents got divorced, my sister suffered her own setbacks, I was wrestling with changing my field of study (from bioethics back to art) and adapting to my first co-ed experience in years. Oh, and not to mention my first foray into East Coast living/personalities, etc... It was a mess. I also suffered my first bout of debilitating depression. Yet, somehow I pulled through but it wasn't without struggle.

The good news was that I learned much about myself. The bad news is that I felt as if I lost my faith and my anchor in the process. Attending Yale Divinity School left me and others I knew there with these faith crises. We were learning to crack open the book we had known since we were children and to examine it from other lenses (political, socio-economic, cultural). In theory, this is a fabulous endeavor; however, when paired with all the other changes I and others were making, many of us felt lost by the time we left Yale. I was questioning all the time - where I was going, what I was meant to do with my life and with whom, what did it mean to get seriously involved in a relationship with a Jewish man and what that might mean for the future (i.e. would I be able to live without celebrating Christmas).

I once spoke to a priest about all my questions, and he reassured me, telling me, "This is okay, Kelly, as it means that you are deepening your faith and are moving along your spiritual journey."

Those words comforted me then, but they don't anymore because I feel like I've done nothing but wander ever since hearing them, visiting churches and spiritual communities here and there but never settling anywhere for long. This feeling has been helped along when one considers how much I've moved around! In one year, I moved from New Jersey to Ohio to Montana to DC.

My years at Princeton brought me into contact with a Buddhist community and that felt like "home" for a while. I could never fully commit to the idea of all the deities; however, I adored the meditation practice and the dharma teachings. I felt nourished again. However, just as I began to feel settled, I made the decision to leave Princeton and I moved back home to OH.

I didn't stay there long, moving on to Montana, which was like returning to the Promised Land. I felt so alive and blissful there, and I circled back to Catholicism. There is a retired priest close to where I lived and he held daily mass in his home each morning. My aunt and I attended almost every day, and I adored it. It was so simple and without artifice (Instead of pews or chairs, I sat on his living room couch; we said confession in his garage), and there was nothing better than to hear his sermons, to look out onto the mountain ranges hugging the Bitterroot Valley and to feel spiritually alive.

Now I'm in DC, and I know that this place and what I do is NOT good for my soul. Truly. I'm doing everything I can to bring in more energy and spirit into my life but I still find that I come up short. I do yoga everyday (sometimes 2x a day). I exercise. I increased my omega 3/salmon intake to help with depression. I do things which soothe me (read, watch movies, journal, blog). I reach out to friends and friends.

All of THIS and I still feel empty inside.

Ash Wednesday, then, marks my decision to return to Catholicism again. I don't know how this will go, but I think that if I give it a little time and patience, I may come to know peace and a renewal of the spirit and faith I had those many years ago.

I'm not sure where this journey will take me, but I've decided to get back on the path and continue walking.

Heron Dance #234

I know without a shadow of the doubt that I'm pursuing the wrong career in life. I never thought I would do this very long and viewed my current job as a resting place on my journey while I try to figure out "what next". What I don't think I bargained for was just how stressful and ethically worrisome this job really is - it's so draining, and I feel that I'm barely keeping my head above water. Lately, I've begun to feel like I'm nearing a breaking point in trying to handle the uncertainties and stress in my life right now. I dream of escaping into nature to clear my mind and heart! How I miss Montana!

This realization about my job has been reconfirmed to me in a million and one ways over the past 6.5 months, and it was shown to me again in this Heron Dance edition.

Ron MacIver wrote about a deep breath test, which you can read below. What I know is that when I take the test, I get back a resounding NO! I'm thinking about ways to change my path and I have a few ideas that I'm still mulling over. I'll share them with you when I've got them formed. Promise! In the meantime, if anyone has any advice, I'm open to it.

I feel such acute loneliness these days and I'm not quite sure how to cope with it. What I do know is that a longer visit home is in order. I haven't seen my family in almost 5 months, and I miss them and the perspective Ohio offers. Some sunshine wouldn't hurt either.

Okay...onto MacIver's test:

I’ve been thinking back this morning over the roughly fourteen years since I started the publication and how I’ve frequently meandered away from that original vision. It is kind of like trying to walk a straight line by looking at your feet rather than a point off in the distance. If you walk in the snow, then you can look back and see how much you wavered. On the positive side, I’ve never lost my faith in the importance of that distant point, and I’ve known from a feeling deep down inside when I was walking towards it with faith and confidence. That feeling is one of centeredness, of balance, of inner warmth.

If I take five deep, slow breaths, and ask myself whether or not I’m on the right track, I get a crystal clear answer back. A feeling of distress, anger, unease or sadness tells me that I’m on the wrong track. At times like this, I ask myself: What is scaring me that I don’t want to confront? What question am I avoiding? What question am I keeping from myself because I am afraid of what the answer will direct me towards? Is there a change I’m trying to avoid.