2007
I haven’t been doing much LJ posting in recent months. I read almost every day, and occasionally comment, but I’ve gotten out of the habit of posting. My life has felt too full and complex to distill into a post, and often the important things are too personal, for myself and others, to post on the web, even friends-locked. But I want to share with folks a brief version of 2007.
This year has been the best year of the last twenty, the best year since I graduated from college, the best year of my adulthood. I can explain that internally - I changed a lot in 2006, and those changes really began to bear fruit in 2007. And I can explain it externally - I joined the First Parish Unitarian Universalist Church of Arlington last January.
The church has given me many things …
… A community in which people try to do well by each other. I sometimes talk about this in terms of agape - this is a place where people are welcomed, indeed encouraged, to act lovingly towards each other just because we are part of a shared community, not because of our personal, individual relationships with each other. I find this a great relief. I can give to people without worrying about their over-interpreting and experiencing me as caring more individually about them than I do, and I can tap into all sorts of resources (practical and emotional) simply because I am part of the community. The congregation feels to me like a pool that people give to as they can and receive from as they need. All of us are part of it, but none of us are essential to it as individuals. This community has existed, in ever-changing forms, since 1733, and I expect it to continue long after I’m dead. I can contribute to it, and receive from it, and in some ways change it, but it doesn’t need me or any other individual - it has a life of its own. For the first time in years and years, I feel fully part of a community that I have not gathered. It is a great blessing.
… Many opportunities for work and service. I can talk about this in terms of committees - in May I joined the Property Committee (responsible for the building and grounds) and the Services & Celebrations Committee (responsible for helping ensure that services happen every Sunday, including eleven lay-led services every summer), and in September I became co-chair of the Property Committee. But it’s a whole lot more than that. For many years I felt that I couldn’t find a niche where I could both do work I valued and keep the CFS symptoms to a level I can tolerate. That’s no longer true. I do all sorts of things at the church that I value - some of them very mundane (taking out the recycling bins) and some quite complex (leading a service, or figuring out how to fix things that have been broken for months or years because no one knows how to fix them, or coordinating volunteers and trying to use their time and energy well). I often spend twenty or thirty hours a week doing church-related work, and sometimes forty or more, but I also have the flexibility I need to manage the CFS. For the first time in my life I have work that I feel and believe is a real service to the world, that other people really value, that makes me feel like I’m growing and learning as a human being, and that feels like it will continue indefinitely into the future. I’ve had good jobs before - teaching at Harvard, for example - but they’ve always been episodic, and I’ve always lost them for reasons that had nothing to do with me or my performance in the job. For the first time I feel like I have, and can keep, good work - and I have hungered for this for years.
… A minister who is truly a minister to me, a spiritual counselor and guide. For the first time in my life, I have someone who I feel is my minister, not just my church’s minister. I feel I can be profoundly honest with him, and he knows and understands me well enough to help me manage the challenges of myself and my relations with others. He doesn’t try to solve the problems, but he is a true companion on the way - he listens to me, and he asks the right questions, and I feel accepted by him in both my strength and my weakness.
He is also leaving the church in February, which I have known since April. I am immensely glad that I chose to continue to deepen my relationship with him anyway. I was tempted to step back out of fear of loss and grief, but I decided I didn’t want to forego the profound good of the present out of fear for the future. I am immensely grateful for this year. My relationship with him has felt like a practice in living my life fully, knowing I will lose, but living it as deeply and well as I can anyway.
… Feelings of deep connection. Both the Sunday morning services and the Monday evening meditation group often make me feel like I’m connected to something bigger and deeper and more fundamental than myself. They remind me of who I am and what I value. Not always, not perfectly, sometimes not at all. But they are good.
… Touch. This is a congregation where people touch each other frequently. Some of the touch is ritual - the service always includes a time for greeting neighbors, and people regularly shake hands warmly and often hug; at the end of the service everyone holds hands for the benediction. This touch is in a sense impersonal - it includes everyone, just because they are there, just because they are part of this community - and that’s exactly why it can be so warm and inclusive and comforting. It is an affirmation of community, of being whole. And that community touch often leads to more individual touch - people often share hugs, or touch a hand or a shoulder, or look each other in the eye and deeply smile, far more than in the other parts of my life. I love being in a place where I can be physically affectionate, where I can express the warmth I feel in the moment, without fearing that people will experience it as a romantic/sexual invitation or even as indicating a desire to spend more time with them individually (something my introvert self has little capacity for). And there are two people there with whom I often share long and deep and soul-refreshing hugs - two people who I can seek out when I’m feeling troubled and desiring comfort, ask for a hug, and know I will be held quietly. They are precious indeed.
The church has also brought me many challenges. I’ve been more active, both physically and emotionally, this year than I have been in many years, and that has caused some real growing pains. I’ve felt a lot of grief over my minister’s decision to leave the congregation, and I expect I’ll feel another wave when he actually leaves. And the congregation both has all the challenges characteristic of churches and other volunteer organizations and some peculiarities all its own. There have been times when I’ve felt much over-exposed and under-supported. There have been times when I’ve been furious at other people’s actions. There have been times when I’ve felt overwhelmed by anxiety.
But I also feel like I’m where I belong - finally. And I often feel deeply, profoundly joyful.
A few weeks ago Randy said to me, “There are lots of mythological stories about people getting what they want and despairing. There are just a few stories about people getting what they want and it's truly their heart's desire and they are deeply happy. That seems to be what happened to you.”
Yes.
This year has been the best year of the last twenty, the best year since I graduated from college, the best year of my adulthood. I can explain that internally - I changed a lot in 2006, and those changes really began to bear fruit in 2007. And I can explain it externally - I joined the First Parish Unitarian Universalist Church of Arlington last January.
The church has given me many things …
… A community in which people try to do well by each other. I sometimes talk about this in terms of agape - this is a place where people are welcomed, indeed encouraged, to act lovingly towards each other just because we are part of a shared community, not because of our personal, individual relationships with each other. I find this a great relief. I can give to people without worrying about their over-interpreting and experiencing me as caring more individually about them than I do, and I can tap into all sorts of resources (practical and emotional) simply because I am part of the community. The congregation feels to me like a pool that people give to as they can and receive from as they need. All of us are part of it, but none of us are essential to it as individuals. This community has existed, in ever-changing forms, since 1733, and I expect it to continue long after I’m dead. I can contribute to it, and receive from it, and in some ways change it, but it doesn’t need me or any other individual - it has a life of its own. For the first time in years and years, I feel fully part of a community that I have not gathered. It is a great blessing.
… Many opportunities for work and service. I can talk about this in terms of committees - in May I joined the Property Committee (responsible for the building and grounds) and the Services & Celebrations Committee (responsible for helping ensure that services happen every Sunday, including eleven lay-led services every summer), and in September I became co-chair of the Property Committee. But it’s a whole lot more than that. For many years I felt that I couldn’t find a niche where I could both do work I valued and keep the CFS symptoms to a level I can tolerate. That’s no longer true. I do all sorts of things at the church that I value - some of them very mundane (taking out the recycling bins) and some quite complex (leading a service, or figuring out how to fix things that have been broken for months or years because no one knows how to fix them, or coordinating volunteers and trying to use their time and energy well). I often spend twenty or thirty hours a week doing church-related work, and sometimes forty or more, but I also have the flexibility I need to manage the CFS. For the first time in my life I have work that I feel and believe is a real service to the world, that other people really value, that makes me feel like I’m growing and learning as a human being, and that feels like it will continue indefinitely into the future. I’ve had good jobs before - teaching at Harvard, for example - but they’ve always been episodic, and I’ve always lost them for reasons that had nothing to do with me or my performance in the job. For the first time I feel like I have, and can keep, good work - and I have hungered for this for years.
… A minister who is truly a minister to me, a spiritual counselor and guide. For the first time in my life, I have someone who I feel is my minister, not just my church’s minister. I feel I can be profoundly honest with him, and he knows and understands me well enough to help me manage the challenges of myself and my relations with others. He doesn’t try to solve the problems, but he is a true companion on the way - he listens to me, and he asks the right questions, and I feel accepted by him in both my strength and my weakness.
He is also leaving the church in February, which I have known since April. I am immensely glad that I chose to continue to deepen my relationship with him anyway. I was tempted to step back out of fear of loss and grief, but I decided I didn’t want to forego the profound good of the present out of fear for the future. I am immensely grateful for this year. My relationship with him has felt like a practice in living my life fully, knowing I will lose, but living it as deeply and well as I can anyway.
… Feelings of deep connection. Both the Sunday morning services and the Monday evening meditation group often make me feel like I’m connected to something bigger and deeper and more fundamental than myself. They remind me of who I am and what I value. Not always, not perfectly, sometimes not at all. But they are good.
… Touch. This is a congregation where people touch each other frequently. Some of the touch is ritual - the service always includes a time for greeting neighbors, and people regularly shake hands warmly and often hug; at the end of the service everyone holds hands for the benediction. This touch is in a sense impersonal - it includes everyone, just because they are there, just because they are part of this community - and that’s exactly why it can be so warm and inclusive and comforting. It is an affirmation of community, of being whole. And that community touch often leads to more individual touch - people often share hugs, or touch a hand or a shoulder, or look each other in the eye and deeply smile, far more than in the other parts of my life. I love being in a place where I can be physically affectionate, where I can express the warmth I feel in the moment, without fearing that people will experience it as a romantic/sexual invitation or even as indicating a desire to spend more time with them individually (something my introvert self has little capacity for). And there are two people there with whom I often share long and deep and soul-refreshing hugs - two people who I can seek out when I’m feeling troubled and desiring comfort, ask for a hug, and know I will be held quietly. They are precious indeed.
The church has also brought me many challenges. I’ve been more active, both physically and emotionally, this year than I have been in many years, and that has caused some real growing pains. I’ve felt a lot of grief over my minister’s decision to leave the congregation, and I expect I’ll feel another wave when he actually leaves. And the congregation both has all the challenges characteristic of churches and other volunteer organizations and some peculiarities all its own. There have been times when I’ve felt much over-exposed and under-supported. There have been times when I’ve been furious at other people’s actions. There have been times when I’ve felt overwhelmed by anxiety.
But I also feel like I’m where I belong - finally. And I often feel deeply, profoundly joyful.
A few weeks ago Randy said to me, “There are lots of mythological stories about people getting what they want and despairing. There are just a few stories about people getting what they want and it's truly their heart's desire and they are deeply happy. That seems to be what happened to you.”
Yes.