wow
This week, today, I have begun to come down a little from the frenetic energy of running a conference. I honestly did not even get to stop until yesterday and because of that I spent most of it on my couch; it was nice. I evidently needed the extra 6-8 hours of sleep, because I woke up this morning feeling more refreshed than I have in days and days.
It is interesting to discover my mortality in my moment-to-moment living. What I mean is that I have discovered my body needs sleep, rest and good nutrition, not simply as fuel to continue, but because these times of stopping are core to living. We should not be eating merely to head into the next time of work, but what if we can find ways to eat so that it is part of the joy of living. Sleep is the same way; I enjoy sleep immensely, and as my body rebelled last year and said "no more!" to my manic lifestyles and self-abusive neglect I have come to appreciate the 7-9 hours I spend in bed; though I am not conscious during them, I am aware of the goodness of rest. Rest which is good for its own sake, not simply because it empowers the next day's work. What a shock, a genuine shock for a recovering work-a-holic perfectionist.
Perfection; I will always wish for, strive for, fuss for that success which the cosmos has not reached. I am genuinely disappointed in God because children die in Africa of starvation and Chinese girls used to (sometimes still do) bind their feet until then are mutilated. I am furious because humanity tends to prefer exploitation and abuse to integrity and human engagement. I ask, how can a supposedly good or powerful God allow creation to experience such great pain? How can a loving God permit so many cries for help to go unanswered. Until this week, that was a question for which I demanded an answer, and because I demanded MY answer, I received none.
Do not be confused, I am still angry at God. I still wish for an answer to evil and suffering (two different things). I still wonder what trust to place in a God or a universe which is cruel or apathetic. However, I am now willing to be angry at God. To BE angry and disappointed at imperfection and at the impossibility of success. Because I have now befriended them, this anger, disappointment and discontent no longer subversively drive my life.
In the past while others recognized it, I always thought "I can't be a perfectionist, I get it wrong way to often." Yep, I honestly thought that. Ouch, right? In my mind, I failed often; therefore, I refused to name my goal. I refused to say, all my striving and wishing is for perfection. I did not grant myself the status to even honestly wish for perfection, I WAS NOT GOOD ENOUGH to even claim that I wanted to be perfect. And the worst part is, I confused perfect with good; because I wasn't perfect, I wasn't good. Because the world suffers and experience suffers, it was not perfect, therefore, it was not good. Because my body needed sleep and medicine and food and could not run a marathon, it was not perfect, and therefore, it was not good.
In giving myself permission to name this thing which I desire, I am liberated from it's bondage. Perfection no longer demands my deepest alliance. I am no longer thinking within myself "I am good only because I am striving for the only thing which is truly good, perfection"
No, perfection is not the Good.
Good exists. It bubbles up between two friends in a moment of affection which is marred by their mutual fears.
Good exists. It lounges in the form of a fuzzy cat who likes to claw me when we play.
Good exists. It is an intelligent young woman who pours out her energy to study, to plan conferences, to feed her friends, to read more books, to paint, to walk around town, to love... a Young woman who is overweight, who can't meet deadlines, who forgets important details and dates in her friend's lives, who used to yell, and who is now a little too much fond of crying, a bit of a scary driver because of her over-caution, no musical knowledge and no interest to fix that, passionate, kind, good eye for color, decent bread maker, great party planner.
Isn't it odd? Really, really odd how difficult it can be to live these beautiful, complex, imperfect GOOD lives we have been given?
and odd though it is, isn't it good? Good IN SPITE of our imperfections, Good BECAUSE OF our imperfections.
And so I begin to ponder. If I am not wrong to wish for perfection, if I give myself permission to be angry at God, if I do not wish to express my discontent and anger in violent and deconstructive ways, what response is full of integrity, will give-life, and will express my anger?
First, I will weep when the emotion is truly overwhelming. Medieval mystics claimed weeping as a spiritual gift; so to, I claim that my intensity of emotion is a gift. I will allow the Holy Spirit to express in my tears. Not always, professional meetings are not the place for weeping, not all worship-times are appropriate, but there are places and times - sometimes they are meetings or friendly conversations - when tears will express the fullness of my passion.
I will BE WITH in an unusual way. When I am with a person, healthy or sick, strong or weak, likeable or obnoxious, I will be present to them, to their personhood. Because God’s intangibility is central to my anger at God - that I feel so poignantly the absence of what could be a more powerful presence- that absence is for me an invitation to find the Divine in myself, in people around me, and in our sharing.
I will also BE WITH myself. Allow myself to live like the rest of the universe - imperfectly - and accept my limitations. Because I know it is not what I used to want, it might take time to truly accept the who-I-am-in-my-Good-imperfection, but over time, I hope to come to accept my imperfections as Good rather than as compromises.
I must struggle not to allow my discontent to rule my life; I must acknowledge it so that I can let it go.
This discontent is only a stepping stone
A stepping stone to hope for God’s presence in this place
stepping stone to knowing humanity is beautiful because we are not symmetrical
stepping stone to claiming to goodness of accepting help
stone to grab on to - to say “this is real”
This is good
This stone, this hope, this love is not perfect - do you see the abnormalities in the surface?
But this is GOOD.
Summary:
Perfection falls to the beauty of balance (imperfection)
Good is more real than bad
Violent anger subsides into hopeful discontent which both rests in reality, and works in love for Good.
It is interesting to discover my mortality in my moment-to-moment living. What I mean is that I have discovered my body needs sleep, rest and good nutrition, not simply as fuel to continue, but because these times of stopping are core to living. We should not be eating merely to head into the next time of work, but what if we can find ways to eat so that it is part of the joy of living. Sleep is the same way; I enjoy sleep immensely, and as my body rebelled last year and said "no more!" to my manic lifestyles and self-abusive neglect I have come to appreciate the 7-9 hours I spend in bed; though I am not conscious during them, I am aware of the goodness of rest. Rest which is good for its own sake, not simply because it empowers the next day's work. What a shock, a genuine shock for a recovering work-a-holic perfectionist.
Perfection; I will always wish for, strive for, fuss for that success which the cosmos has not reached. I am genuinely disappointed in God because children die in Africa of starvation and Chinese girls used to (sometimes still do) bind their feet until then are mutilated. I am furious because humanity tends to prefer exploitation and abuse to integrity and human engagement. I ask, how can a supposedly good or powerful God allow creation to experience such great pain? How can a loving God permit so many cries for help to go unanswered. Until this week, that was a question for which I demanded an answer, and because I demanded MY answer, I received none.
Do not be confused, I am still angry at God. I still wish for an answer to evil and suffering (two different things). I still wonder what trust to place in a God or a universe which is cruel or apathetic. However, I am now willing to be angry at God. To BE angry and disappointed at imperfection and at the impossibility of success. Because I have now befriended them, this anger, disappointment and discontent no longer subversively drive my life.
In the past while others recognized it, I always thought "I can't be a perfectionist, I get it wrong way to often." Yep, I honestly thought that. Ouch, right? In my mind, I failed often; therefore, I refused to name my goal. I refused to say, all my striving and wishing is for perfection. I did not grant myself the status to even honestly wish for perfection, I WAS NOT GOOD ENOUGH to even claim that I wanted to be perfect. And the worst part is, I confused perfect with good; because I wasn't perfect, I wasn't good. Because the world suffers and experience suffers, it was not perfect, therefore, it was not good. Because my body needed sleep and medicine and food and could not run a marathon, it was not perfect, and therefore, it was not good.
In giving myself permission to name this thing which I desire, I am liberated from it's bondage. Perfection no longer demands my deepest alliance. I am no longer thinking within myself "I am good only because I am striving for the only thing which is truly good, perfection"
No, perfection is not the Good.
Good exists. It bubbles up between two friends in a moment of affection which is marred by their mutual fears.
Good exists. It lounges in the form of a fuzzy cat who likes to claw me when we play.
Good exists. It is an intelligent young woman who pours out her energy to study, to plan conferences, to feed her friends, to read more books, to paint, to walk around town, to love... a Young woman who is overweight, who can't meet deadlines, who forgets important details and dates in her friend's lives, who used to yell, and who is now a little too much fond of crying, a bit of a scary driver because of her over-caution, no musical knowledge and no interest to fix that, passionate, kind, good eye for color, decent bread maker, great party planner.
Isn't it odd? Really, really odd how difficult it can be to live these beautiful, complex, imperfect GOOD lives we have been given?
and odd though it is, isn't it good? Good IN SPITE of our imperfections, Good BECAUSE OF our imperfections.
And so I begin to ponder. If I am not wrong to wish for perfection, if I give myself permission to be angry at God, if I do not wish to express my discontent and anger in violent and deconstructive ways, what response is full of integrity, will give-life, and will express my anger?
First, I will weep when the emotion is truly overwhelming. Medieval mystics claimed weeping as a spiritual gift; so to, I claim that my intensity of emotion is a gift. I will allow the Holy Spirit to express in my tears. Not always, professional meetings are not the place for weeping, not all worship-times are appropriate, but there are places and times - sometimes they are meetings or friendly conversations - when tears will express the fullness of my passion.
I will BE WITH in an unusual way. When I am with a person, healthy or sick, strong or weak, likeable or obnoxious, I will be present to them, to their personhood. Because God’s intangibility is central to my anger at God - that I feel so poignantly the absence of what could be a more powerful presence- that absence is for me an invitation to find the Divine in myself, in people around me, and in our sharing.
I will also BE WITH myself. Allow myself to live like the rest of the universe - imperfectly - and accept my limitations. Because I know it is not what I used to want, it might take time to truly accept the who-I-am-in-my-Good-imperfection, but over time, I hope to come to accept my imperfections as Good rather than as compromises.
I must struggle not to allow my discontent to rule my life; I must acknowledge it so that I can let it go.
This discontent is only a stepping stone
A stepping stone to hope for God’s presence in this place
stepping stone to knowing humanity is beautiful because we are not symmetrical
stepping stone to claiming to goodness of accepting help
stone to grab on to - to say “this is real”
This is good
This stone, this hope, this love is not perfect - do you see the abnormalities in the surface?
But this is GOOD.
Summary:
Perfection falls to the beauty of balance (imperfection)
Good is more real than bad
Violent anger subsides into hopeful discontent which both rests in reality, and works in love for Good.