I've always loved Christmas. It makes me feel warm and bright even when the weather tries everything in it's power to bring me down. I have so many vivid memories of driving to Grandma's house on Christmas eve. It's already dark outside, and I'm tucked into the back seat of our family car. I always love the ride to Grandma's because part of it is through a forest preserve that I've always thought was magical. I can stretch myself up just high enough so I can peak over the window to look for "reindeer" skipping around with their babies. I smell the scent of candles burning and see picture frames wrapped like presents hanging on the walls. Grandma's apartment has turned into a winter wonderland. I see my Grandpa sitting on his chair; my Grandma and Aunt dancing around the kitchen. I feel warm and safe. Nothing can beat how pretty mommy looks tonight, or how handsome daddy is in his Christmas sweater, of course wearing the Christmas Mickey socks we got him the year before. Alec, Jenna and I lay on the floor, playing games and joking around with Gramps. I help Grandma set the table, and pour water in all of the glasses. We sit down, Grandma at one end, Grandpa at the other. I sit next to Grandpa. He always says the prayer. Grandpa never cries except on Christmas Eve. He talks about going to mass earlier in the day, and seeing the birthday cake with thousands of candles lit up for Jesus. He says how proud he is of his family and how much he loves us, even if he doesn't always do the best job at showing it. I think to myself, this isn't really how you say a prayer, is it? But, now I see, it is more of a prayer than many people will ever know in their lifetime. After we eat, Grandma starts passing around the oplatek (apparently that's what it's called). It's a wafer that is embossed with a picture of the nativity or Mary. She breaks it and gives it to my sister who's sitting next to her. As she hands it over, she offers Jenna a prayer. It makes its way around the table until we have all been given a prayer. Dinner's over, and it's time to look for Grandma & Grandpa's gift bags! They work all year to fill these bags for each of their children and grandchildren, usually with silly gifts that make us all laugh. Each of us has a turn to sit in the special Christmas chair and open our gifts with an applauding audience. After some dessert and coffee for the grown ups, Jenna and I put on our PJs and everyone knows it's about that time to be getting home.
We drive home and I wonder why the snow sparkles.
When we get home, everyone gets into their PJs, we set out some milk & cookies by the fireplace, and we all meet around the manger. We say a prayer and each put a piece of hay for every good deed we've done in the past day into Jesus' bed before we lay Him down to rest. It's Alec's turn this year to put the baby Jesus in his manger. I stay a little longer this year as everyone else goes off in their own directions. I watch the scene in front of me come to life. How could this little baby, so tiny and fragile, be so strong? It amazed me to think that this little baby would become Jesus Christ. Suddenly, I was confused. If it was Jesus' birthday, why was I waiting for presents? I go to the kitchen and pull out some crayons and paper. I make a birthday card for Jesus. I fold it up tight and put it in an envelope. Dear Santa, please drop this card off to Jesus before you go back to the North Pole. Thank you so much. Love, Dana. I run to the fireplace, stick the note under Santa's milk glass, and smile.
. . .
This year, things are different. I still love Christmas, but I just see things from a new perspective. I love the way Christmas holds such an important spot in our lives that we start filling our house up a week beforehand with family members. I love giving my bed up for my aunt and sharing a room with my brother and sister, even if that means we don't get much sleep because we can't stop joking around.
This is what Christmas is about, being together.
As I run through the mall, trying to get out with as little whip lash as possible, I notice how high-strung some of the people are around me. I can almost hear what's going on in their heads, never ending "to do" lists, etc etc.
But, Christmas isn't about the negative. Sure, we're being pressured in every direction to consume more & more. And, that's enough to make steam blow out of my ears. But, if I'm going to keep Christmas what it is for me, then I've got to be responsible for myself. I've taught a few yoga classes during this past week, so as I reflected on my intention for those classes, this is what came up: I have the ability to be at peace. I asked my students to bring to mind a stressful situation that always comes up with the holidays, whether it be a difficult relative, too much on the "to do" list, or dealing with the loss of a loved one at this time of year. I think for many of us, we can relate to each of these, and maybe more. During this time of year, we tend to glide back into tradition--whether that be good or not so good. If we're upset every year by the same person, what if we met them with new eyes this year? I urged my students to use their breath the way they use it during class: breathe through pain, persevere, and smile. Whatever the situation is, when you see yourself responding in a negative way, take a moment to close your eyes and just breathe. Now, the next part, I didn't say in my classes, but it's what I use for myself. After I take a moment to breathe, I ask myself how I can respond in the most loving way. A very wise person once told me to treat other people like royalty. I like that. And, that's what I try to do.
I can't change the way that the people around me celebrate Christmas. But, I can change how I respond. Instead of constantly fighting the over-consumption, I can stop critiquing and try to understand why it bothers me so much. It bothers me because it allows us a way to get through Christmas without once acknowledging the true meaning. But, I now see that if I spend all of my time wishing for this to change, I sure am not acknowledging the reason for the season either. So instead, this year, I want to be reflective and mindful throughout the celebrations & take some special time to be quiet within my own heart to be with Christ.
Throughout the last few months, living in East LA, and being part of a community that practices Latino Catholicism, I have grown more deeply attached to la Virgen. She is such a beautiful figure of courage, especially as a young woman.
This Christmas, I think about how open to life Mary was. I am humbled by her incredible strength and courage to say "yes" to God. She risked her life for God's will to be done. How amazing is her love? Her saying yes to God's question changed everything for us. Her trust in God and openness to life was so strong and her answer allowed us to be brought from death to life. There is a song written by Danielle Rose, the lyrics go: "O Mary, mother of Jesus, give me your heart, that I might receive Jesus." Every time that I walk up to receive the Eucharist, I sing these words in my head. Truly, Mary knew how to receive God in her life, and I yearn for a heart like hers; a heart that's open with no strings attached.
So, this year, I finally am ready to "say yes." For the last six years, I have been really thinking about officially becoming Catholic. Most people are confused when I say this, because they think I'm already Catholic. But, I'm not! Surprise! My brother, sister, and I were all baptized in the Greek Orthodox Church because my dad is Greek Orthodox. However, my mom is Catholic, so we've grown up with both churches. I feel really blessed to have had this because I see things that I love about each church.
I think the best decision that I ever made was to go on the ND Vision retreat the summer before going to college. This decision led me away from Indiana University (which I still think is an amazing place, just wasn't for me) to Saint Mary's College, which then led me to the University of San Diego, and ultimately to my involvement in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. I had grown up attending public schools, but college was the perfect time for me to explore a Catholic education. I am who I am because I was so supported and fulfilled by the amazing experience of going to Catholic colleges. The opportunities that arose for deeper faith exploration and service were countless. I truly learned how to foster a life of faith, and that is more than I could ask for from any degree.
The Greek Orthodox Church is wonderful, and I will always love and continue to celebrate the traditions there. But, the Catholic church is home. It has changed who I am. I am definitely not blind, I am very aware of everything that is wrong with the Church. It's a lie to say that I agree with every teaching, every doctrine. I definitely don't. But, what's important is that I have found a community in the Church. I have found a community of people that are just trying to love one another. I think that almost every Church is like this, and we just need to find which one resonates with us individually.
So, tonight, I am saying "yes" in my own small way. I am becoming a Catholic. Father Paddy asked me to say a profession of faith at the Christmas Eve mass in order to make things official. It's just a small way for me to say yes to God; I believe that He has called me to this Church, and I am so excited and proud to finally be able to say, yes, I am Catholic. :)
So I leave you with this thought. What do you want to get out of Christmas this year? How can you deal with stress in a more productive and mindful way this year?
Most importantly, what can you do to say yes to God in your own life?
Remember to breathe <3
She was his girl; he was her boyfriend
She be his wife; take him as her husband
A surprise on the way, any day, any day
One healthy little giggling dribbling baby boy
The wise men came three made their way
To shower him with love
While he lay in the hay
Shower him with love love love
Love love love
Love love is all around
Not very much of his childhood was known
Kept his mother Mary worried
Always out on his own
He met another Mary for a reasonable fee, less than
Reputable as known to be
His heart was full of love love love
Love love love
Love love is all around
When Jesus Christ was nailed to the his tree
Said "oh, Daddy-o I can see how it all soon will be
I came to shed a little light on this darkening scene
Instead I fear I spill the blood of my children all around"
The blood of our children all around
The blood of our children all around
The blood of our children all around
So the story goes, so I'm told
The people he knew were
Less than golden hearted
Gamblers and robbers
Drinkers and jokers, all soul searchers
Like you and me
Rumors insisited he soon would be
For his deviations
Taken into custody by the authorities
Less informed than he.
Drinkers and jokers. all soul searchers
Searching for love love love
Love love love
Love love is all around
Preparations were made
For his celebration day
He said "eat this bread and think of it as me
Drink this wine and dream it will be
The blood of our children all around
The blood of our children all around"
The blood of our children all around
Father up above, why in all this anger have you filled
Me up with love
Fill me love love love
Love love love
Love love
And the blood of our children all around
-dmb
Friday, December 24, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
love does not keep locked inside
One of the prayers that I find myself repeating daily is that God would use me as Her instrument (yeah I said "Her," like it?). I close my eyes and picture myself laying my life down at the feet of Christ. I want to be made whole in order to serve, in order to bring others nearer to Him, "Everything I am, everything I long to be, I lay it down at Your feet" (Matt Maher). I see myself like clay, wet to the touch. I pray that I always stay supple, and open to change. In whichever way my Maker desires to mold me, I am ready. Well, I pray I am ready.
I'm reading this book called Living Your Yoga by Judith Lasater. It's really been helping me put into words what I've been feeling. Although yoga seems to be a solitary practice, I've seen a transformation in my life off of the mat. The strength of my yoga practice is not measured by my ability to stand on my head for twenty minutes (which I've never tried) but I see the benefits in the way that I relate to others...to my community.
It's all about compassion. Ok, I know, you've heard that word a million times. But, what does it really mean? It is actually derived from Latin, the combination of the prefix com and the word pati means "to suffer with." The Yoga Sutra implies that compassion should be expressed to everyone at all times, and it is through this that we will be purified. We can only strengthen our ability to be compassionate by repeatedly expressing it. Practice makes perfect, yeah?
Have you ever noticed how the most compassionate people in your life seem to be the ones who have gone through the most shit? (sorry?) But, really. Isn't it true? Compassion goes hand in hand with wisdom. And wisdom is gained from experience. Our experiences lead directly back to compassion. If I fully realize that I, in fact, have suffered, then I am able to see with clarity that others, in fact, suffer as well. I cannot stand alongside another who is suffering with a turned cheek, because I have been there, too. The only way to respond is to use compassion, to suffer with others.
Last spring, I had this incredible experience to be front crew chief on USD's SEARCH retreat. This basically meant that I was in charge of the 8 leaders who were going to be giving witnesses and leading small groups on the retreat. This proved to be the most incredible experience for me to cultivate compassion. Throughout the semester, I met with each of the leaders and helped them develop their talks. Each one of them had a story, as all of us do. I was able to be with them along the process of finding the grace that exists within each of their stories. When the time came for the retreat, I had the honor of sitting next to each of them. I got to hold their hands, or put my arm around them as they read their witnesses. I was able to be God's hands for them. All I had to do was give my heart completely over to each of them. I will never forget the way it felt to give all of my love to a person who was suffering. The love that I received from the leaders was, and still is, immeasurable. I am forever changed because of this experience.
Another experience that I feel called to witness to happened the day that we returned back to USD from the SEARCH retreat. We arrived back on campus in the afternoon, I went to lunch with some of my friends from the retreat, and got back in my car to drive home for a quick shower before the welcome back mass. I remember getting into my car and turning on my phone for the first time in three days. I started driving out of the parking structure and down the hill by the entrance of campus as I listened to my messages. I heard my aunt's voice in her message as she said, "I am so sorry to hear about your grandpa." My stomach dropped. The next message was my dad asking me to call as soon as I could. All I could do was press my foot on the break and park my car in the middle of the street. I was paralyzed. My friend Chase was driving behind me, and when he saw this, he ran to my car. I remember Chase pulling me out of my car and sitting me down on the sidewalk, then moving both of our cars safely to the side of the street. He sat with me as I suffered. He called two of my best friends, Paula and Kelsey. They dropped whatever they were doing and were holding me within minutes. That day, I was never left alone. They brought me back to my apartment to get ready for mass, and drove me back to Founder's Chapel. All of the people at USD that I love so dearly were surrounding me at mass, most of them not knowing what was going on. I couldn't keep myself together throughout mass, the loss of my grandpa was too much to bear. After mass, my friends sat with me in the pews. I don't even know how many hands were placed on me as I sat there, lost. After probably twenty minutes, I looked up and realized that more of my friends had gathered in a circle in the aisle next to me. They were holding hands and praying for me and my family. But, it didn't stop there. I was overwhelmed with the love that my community was showering me with. The priests that work on campus dedicated masses to my grandpa, my friends held prayer groups for my family during free periods, and I received so many hugs, there was no way I could fall apart. And that's how I'd describe what happened. I was being supported in every single direction, there was no way that my heart could break apart. This amazing community acted as God's hands, feet, eyes, and mouth for me during this time. Through their compassion, I was able to not only be held together, but to grow exponentially in my own love towards others.
In my yoga classes, I challenge people to go to uncomfortable places--be it physical, emotional or mental. I challenge people to experience pain and to sit with it. But, my intention is only love. In my experience, growth is the most painful process that I have ever gone through. Growing pains are real. However, things that are good are sometimes difficult, but not all things that are difficult are always good. It is important for me to not use my place as a teacher to coerce or pressure my students into doing something that they do not want to do. Both the student and I must practice compassion--towards ourselves and each other. If we always act from the heart of compassion then there will be no confusion, we will always know what to do.
Love is not proud
Love does not boast
Love afterall matters the most
Love does not run
Love does not hide
Love does not keep locked inside
Love is the river that flows through
Love never fails you.
Love will sustain
Love will provide
Love will not cease at the end of time
Love will protect
Love always hopes
Love still believes when you don't
Love is the arms that are holding you
Love never fails you.
When my heart won't make a sound
When it can't turn back around
When the sky is falling down
Nothing is greater than this
Love is right here
Love is ALIVE
Love is the way, the truth, the light
Love is the river that flows through
Love is the arms that are holding you
and Love is the place you will fly to
Love never fails you.
Open your heart. Love like there's no tomorrow. Love without boundaries. Love with no strings attached. If you do this, if you practice compassion, I promise you'll feel the arms that are holding you. They have been holding you all along.
I'm reading this book called Living Your Yoga by Judith Lasater. It's really been helping me put into words what I've been feeling. Although yoga seems to be a solitary practice, I've seen a transformation in my life off of the mat. The strength of my yoga practice is not measured by my ability to stand on my head for twenty minutes (which I've never tried) but I see the benefits in the way that I relate to others...to my community.
It's all about compassion. Ok, I know, you've heard that word a million times. But, what does it really mean? It is actually derived from Latin, the combination of the prefix com and the word pati means "to suffer with." The Yoga Sutra implies that compassion should be expressed to everyone at all times, and it is through this that we will be purified. We can only strengthen our ability to be compassionate by repeatedly expressing it. Practice makes perfect, yeah?
Have you ever noticed how the most compassionate people in your life seem to be the ones who have gone through the most shit? (sorry?) But, really. Isn't it true? Compassion goes hand in hand with wisdom. And wisdom is gained from experience. Our experiences lead directly back to compassion. If I fully realize that I, in fact, have suffered, then I am able to see with clarity that others, in fact, suffer as well. I cannot stand alongside another who is suffering with a turned cheek, because I have been there, too. The only way to respond is to use compassion, to suffer with others.
Last spring, I had this incredible experience to be front crew chief on USD's SEARCH retreat. This basically meant that I was in charge of the 8 leaders who were going to be giving witnesses and leading small groups on the retreat. This proved to be the most incredible experience for me to cultivate compassion. Throughout the semester, I met with each of the leaders and helped them develop their talks. Each one of them had a story, as all of us do. I was able to be with them along the process of finding the grace that exists within each of their stories. When the time came for the retreat, I had the honor of sitting next to each of them. I got to hold their hands, or put my arm around them as they read their witnesses. I was able to be God's hands for them. All I had to do was give my heart completely over to each of them. I will never forget the way it felt to give all of my love to a person who was suffering. The love that I received from the leaders was, and still is, immeasurable. I am forever changed because of this experience.
Another experience that I feel called to witness to happened the day that we returned back to USD from the SEARCH retreat. We arrived back on campus in the afternoon, I went to lunch with some of my friends from the retreat, and got back in my car to drive home for a quick shower before the welcome back mass. I remember getting into my car and turning on my phone for the first time in three days. I started driving out of the parking structure and down the hill by the entrance of campus as I listened to my messages. I heard my aunt's voice in her message as she said, "I am so sorry to hear about your grandpa." My stomach dropped. The next message was my dad asking me to call as soon as I could. All I could do was press my foot on the break and park my car in the middle of the street. I was paralyzed. My friend Chase was driving behind me, and when he saw this, he ran to my car. I remember Chase pulling me out of my car and sitting me down on the sidewalk, then moving both of our cars safely to the side of the street. He sat with me as I suffered. He called two of my best friends, Paula and Kelsey. They dropped whatever they were doing and were holding me within minutes. That day, I was never left alone. They brought me back to my apartment to get ready for mass, and drove me back to Founder's Chapel. All of the people at USD that I love so dearly were surrounding me at mass, most of them not knowing what was going on. I couldn't keep myself together throughout mass, the loss of my grandpa was too much to bear. After mass, my friends sat with me in the pews. I don't even know how many hands were placed on me as I sat there, lost. After probably twenty minutes, I looked up and realized that more of my friends had gathered in a circle in the aisle next to me. They were holding hands and praying for me and my family. But, it didn't stop there. I was overwhelmed with the love that my community was showering me with. The priests that work on campus dedicated masses to my grandpa, my friends held prayer groups for my family during free periods, and I received so many hugs, there was no way I could fall apart. And that's how I'd describe what happened. I was being supported in every single direction, there was no way that my heart could break apart. This amazing community acted as God's hands, feet, eyes, and mouth for me during this time. Through their compassion, I was able to not only be held together, but to grow exponentially in my own love towards others.
In my yoga classes, I challenge people to go to uncomfortable places--be it physical, emotional or mental. I challenge people to experience pain and to sit with it. But, my intention is only love. In my experience, growth is the most painful process that I have ever gone through. Growing pains are real. However, things that are good are sometimes difficult, but not all things that are difficult are always good. It is important for me to not use my place as a teacher to coerce or pressure my students into doing something that they do not want to do. Both the student and I must practice compassion--towards ourselves and each other. If we always act from the heart of compassion then there will be no confusion, we will always know what to do.
Love is not proud
Love does not boast
Love afterall matters the most
Love does not run
Love does not hide
Love does not keep locked inside
Love is the river that flows through
Love never fails you.
Love will sustain
Love will provide
Love will not cease at the end of time
Love will protect
Love always hopes
Love still believes when you don't
Love is the arms that are holding you
Love never fails you.
When my heart won't make a sound
When it can't turn back around
When the sky is falling down
Nothing is greater than this
Love is right here
Love is ALIVE
Love is the way, the truth, the light
Love is the river that flows through
Love is the arms that are holding you
and Love is the place you will fly to
Love never fails you.
Open your heart. Love like there's no tomorrow. Love without boundaries. Love with no strings attached. If you do this, if you practice compassion, I promise you'll feel the arms that are holding you. They have been holding you all along.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
you may return here once you realize you are always here
If you come to one of my yoga classes, you'll most likely hear me say something like this: "every posture (or asana) does not truly begin until you want to get out of it." I ask the people taking my class to think about what this means for their yoga practice. Some of the postures are really uncomfortable and all that we want to do is move into the next posture to find some sort of relief. But, I challenge myself and my students to stay with the discomfort, to breathe into it. "Every posture does not truly begin until we want to get out of it."
I really like this lesson. The first time I heard it, it rocked my world. My practice was changed forever. I learned the importance of breath and how we can accomplish almost anything we put our minds to if we just breathe. I also learned that I was stronger than I thought I was. I think we all could use that knowledge.
The idea of burning through discomfort and coming out stronger on the other side is really beautiful and promotes so much growth, but it can only be done with a compassionate heart. While teaching last night, I began to think, is it really a good lesson to teach people to sit with discomfort? Or am I hurting them? To be honest, I probably heard this lesson so many times before, but it was not until one class about three years ago that I actually heard it. I think we begin to understand important lessons once we are ready to make a change. So much of what we call wisdom is really just a shift in perspective. We have all that we need already within us, we just have to realize that it is already here. This reminds me of a quote by T.S. Eliot:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
I also like to think of this concept as a way for people to find God in their lives. I think it's fair to say that most of us have had those experiences of love, a rush of emotion that takes over and for just a moment, we are able to see the world in a whole new way. This love, I would argue, is God. Many of us have had a glimpse of Him in our lives, but sometimes it's hard to have faith that He is always here, within us. I'm thinking that the realization that God is always present is truly just a radical change in perspective as well:
"At that moment of realization (that union with God is always present), that's when God let me go, let me slide through His fingers with this last compassionate, unspoken message:
You may return here once you have fully come to understand that you are always here."
-Elizabeth Gilbert
You may return here once you realize you are always here. How cool is that?
So this is all great. But, back to the yoga point. After class last night, I came home and started reading one of my books about yoga. I read the definition of "asana" (the physical practice of yoga), the definition from the Yoga Sutra is "The posture should be steady and comfortable." Hmmm...is that really what I've been teaching? I think in our Western mindset we tend to go to yoga for a really great workout, for Madonna arms and a killer core. That's a great side affect of yoga, but is it the main intention? No.
I thought about this definition and came to realize that by using the exercise mantra of "no pain, no gain" we are only harming ourselves with self-judging internal dialogue. I read, "there was no way that I could be harsh toward myself and, at the same time, be compassionate to others. I realized also that the process of silently putting myself down was actually a form of egoism." This got me thinking that if I expect more of myself than I do of others, I am actually saying that I am better than others, and therefore must perform at a higher level. This doesn't mean that I should not set goals for myself, but it is how I react to my inability to meet the goals that is important. When I let myself get into the mode of self-judgement, I no longer am present; essentially, I no longer am practicing yoga. When I live free from self-judgement, I am able to live "steady and comfortable," present to my own life. When I live this way, I am living fully.
What if we all thought about ourselves like this? Next time someone gives you a compliment, smile and say "thank you." If you tell yourself that you have to work out for an hour everyday, give yourself a break if you haven't been keeping up with that goal. If you tell yourself you're not eating sugar for the next week, and find yourself eating an oreo, let it go. Be easy on yourself. Be tender yet bold. Be as forgiving to yourself as you are to the people around you. Allow your true self to shine through. Don't be ashamed of your greatness, don't shrink down and hide your light. If we allow our own light to shine, we in turn allow others to do the same:
So my challenge to you is not to try hard but to try easy, be gentle and kind to yourself. Stay present to your own life by letting go of self-judgement. Let go of your grip on what you think you believe to be open to a shift in perspective. I promise once you let go, you'll be able to see what had been there the whole time.
<3
I really like this lesson. The first time I heard it, it rocked my world. My practice was changed forever. I learned the importance of breath and how we can accomplish almost anything we put our minds to if we just breathe. I also learned that I was stronger than I thought I was. I think we all could use that knowledge.
The idea of burning through discomfort and coming out stronger on the other side is really beautiful and promotes so much growth, but it can only be done with a compassionate heart. While teaching last night, I began to think, is it really a good lesson to teach people to sit with discomfort? Or am I hurting them? To be honest, I probably heard this lesson so many times before, but it was not until one class about three years ago that I actually heard it. I think we begin to understand important lessons once we are ready to make a change. So much of what we call wisdom is really just a shift in perspective. We have all that we need already within us, we just have to realize that it is already here. This reminds me of a quote by T.S. Eliot:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
I also like to think of this concept as a way for people to find God in their lives. I think it's fair to say that most of us have had those experiences of love, a rush of emotion that takes over and for just a moment, we are able to see the world in a whole new way. This love, I would argue, is God. Many of us have had a glimpse of Him in our lives, but sometimes it's hard to have faith that He is always here, within us. I'm thinking that the realization that God is always present is truly just a radical change in perspective as well:
"At that moment of realization (that union with God is always present), that's when God let me go, let me slide through His fingers with this last compassionate, unspoken message:
You may return here once you have fully come to understand that you are always here."
-Elizabeth Gilbert
You may return here once you realize you are always here. How cool is that?
So this is all great. But, back to the yoga point. After class last night, I came home and started reading one of my books about yoga. I read the definition of "asana" (the physical practice of yoga), the definition from the Yoga Sutra is "The posture should be steady and comfortable." Hmmm...is that really what I've been teaching? I think in our Western mindset we tend to go to yoga for a really great workout, for Madonna arms and a killer core. That's a great side affect of yoga, but is it the main intention? No.
I thought about this definition and came to realize that by using the exercise mantra of "no pain, no gain" we are only harming ourselves with self-judging internal dialogue. I read, "there was no way that I could be harsh toward myself and, at the same time, be compassionate to others. I realized also that the process of silently putting myself down was actually a form of egoism." This got me thinking that if I expect more of myself than I do of others, I am actually saying that I am better than others, and therefore must perform at a higher level. This doesn't mean that I should not set goals for myself, but it is how I react to my inability to meet the goals that is important. When I let myself get into the mode of self-judgement, I no longer am present; essentially, I no longer am practicing yoga. When I live free from self-judgement, I am able to live "steady and comfortable," present to my own life. When I live this way, I am living fully.
What if we all thought about ourselves like this? Next time someone gives you a compliment, smile and say "thank you." If you tell yourself that you have to work out for an hour everyday, give yourself a break if you haven't been keeping up with that goal. If you tell yourself you're not eating sugar for the next week, and find yourself eating an oreo, let it go. Be easy on yourself. Be tender yet bold. Be as forgiving to yourself as you are to the people around you. Allow your true self to shine through. Don't be ashamed of your greatness, don't shrink down and hide your light. If we allow our own light to shine, we in turn allow others to do the same:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine.
We were born to make manifest the glory that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Mariane Williamson
So my challenge to you is not to try hard but to try easy, be gentle and kind to yourself. Stay present to your own life by letting go of self-judgement. Let go of your grip on what you think you believe to be open to a shift in perspective. I promise once you let go, you'll be able to see what had been there the whole time.
<3
Friday, October 29, 2010
knock three times...
For those of you who don't already know, I have finally made the difficult decision to not return to East LA. I've been fighting this decision since I got home. I miss my community and yearn for the vibrancy of life experienced as a Jesuit Volunteer. Each day was a new adventure. Each day left something to be discovered, a new strength to be learned, a new depth in my heart to be brought to use. Each day was something beautiful, even the ones that I struggled to get through. It's difficult to leave a situation that was so life-giving, so challenging, and rewarding. I have been dreaming of being a Jesuit Volunteer for over a year. I went through a stressful application process, and landed the job that also turned out to be my first pick. The last year of my life has been building up to this experience. It gave me something to feel safe about. I had something to do with my life. I had a purpose. Now...I'm left back at the beginning again. I literally have to invent my life from now on.
The beauty of JVC is that I "knew" I was doing something worthwhile. I knew I was needed, and the work that I was doing was for a great cause. Right now, all that I know for sure is that I want to lead an extraordinary life. I don't ever want to settle for a job that just pays the bills. If you know me at all, you know I'd never make it a day in corporate America. It's just not me (Not to knock down the people who work in it, power to ya). I have been so open and so exposed to true compassion that no substitute will ever fulfill me. I want my life to be a living prayer. I pray that my heart is open wide enough in order to hear my calling, my vocation, from God. I know the only way to be truly happy is to lead the life we are meant to live. We must follow our hearts <3
If there's one thing that I've learned from the last few months, it's that I don't need to be in southern California in order to experience God's love. I've received so much love in the past month that I feel like my heart is on overload! I cannot help but wonder how this ever happened. What did I do to deserve so much love? I know that I would do anything (and I mean anything) for the people that I love. But, to think that they would do the same for me? It's a little hard to grasp. I've had time to reflect on this gift. I stand back and look at my parents in awe. I really don't believe that there is any boundary to their love. I recall my dad saying that he'd "cross the entire world" for me. The thing is...I believe him. I know my parents love me and my brother and sister so dearly. Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I've ever doubted that. It's just that I've, more recently, become aware. I am practicing being grateful and mindful of my blessings. And, I sure am blessed. Speaking of being grateful, I can't forget to mention the amount of letters and packages, love notes, and e-mails that I've received from people near and far. I love you all more than you'll ever know.
So, here I am. Back in the midwest. And it's good. My health is getting better, I'm taking care of myself and figuring out what I need. I've been re-hired at Corepower Yoga to teach five classes a week for now. They even sponsored me to get trained to teach Yoga Sculpt (a super fun yoga class that incorporates weights; the best part is I can include Usher on my playlist). So after I'm certified to teach this class, I'll add that into the mix. I really love teaching yoga. It might not sound like the greatest accomplishment, and it might not be the most glamourous post-college job. But, what does it matter what other people think? I feel incredibly blessed to be able to guide people through their yoga practice. I have put a lot of work into being a good teacher, and I continually am learning new ways to deepen my students' practice. I consider it an honor to be able to teach others not only the physical practice of yoga (asana) but also the lifestyle of yoga. I am continuously inspired by my students. It is amazing to be brought into their lives, especially when they share their experiences with me after class. However, my favorite part of teaching is something else. At the end of the class, when they are laying in savasana, I go around and place a cool towel on their forehead. What they don't know is that I say a prayer for each of them individually. Have you ever prayed intentionally for a stranger? It's really beautiful.
And that's what I do. I create awesome playlists, teach people to bend in funny ways, they leave class soaked in their own sweat, and I secretly pray for them. It's okay if you think it's funny. I guess it is a little. :) But you know what? I'm spreading love, and that's what it's all about.
Other than yoga, I've been spending oober amounts of time with my family and friends. It feels so good to be around them. One of the campus ministers, Rob, from USD, is now working at DePaul University. So, the other night, I got to visit with him and go to DePaul's taize prayer service. It was truly breathtaking. I'm pretty stoked to get more involved in different groups in Chicago that work towards social justice. I visited one of Chicago's Catholic Worker houses and hope to do some work with them soon. I've also been exploring dance therapy, and am really excited about the possibility of studying it further...
What I'm trying to say is that after I made the decision to leave JVC, I felt very lost, and still continue to at times. I felt a little paralyzed...what do I do now? How will I ever find meaning to my life right now? But, as we have been told, "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you" (Matt 7:7).
Well, I'm knockin'.
I'll sign off in prayer:
The beauty of JVC is that I "knew" I was doing something worthwhile. I knew I was needed, and the work that I was doing was for a great cause. Right now, all that I know for sure is that I want to lead an extraordinary life. I don't ever want to settle for a job that just pays the bills. If you know me at all, you know I'd never make it a day in corporate America. It's just not me (Not to knock down the people who work in it, power to ya). I have been so open and so exposed to true compassion that no substitute will ever fulfill me. I want my life to be a living prayer. I pray that my heart is open wide enough in order to hear my calling, my vocation, from God. I know the only way to be truly happy is to lead the life we are meant to live. We must follow our hearts <3
If there's one thing that I've learned from the last few months, it's that I don't need to be in southern California in order to experience God's love. I've received so much love in the past month that I feel like my heart is on overload! I cannot help but wonder how this ever happened. What did I do to deserve so much love? I know that I would do anything (and I mean anything) for the people that I love. But, to think that they would do the same for me? It's a little hard to grasp. I've had time to reflect on this gift. I stand back and look at my parents in awe. I really don't believe that there is any boundary to their love. I recall my dad saying that he'd "cross the entire world" for me. The thing is...I believe him. I know my parents love me and my brother and sister so dearly. Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I've ever doubted that. It's just that I've, more recently, become aware. I am practicing being grateful and mindful of my blessings. And, I sure am blessed. Speaking of being grateful, I can't forget to mention the amount of letters and packages, love notes, and e-mails that I've received from people near and far. I love you all more than you'll ever know.
So, here I am. Back in the midwest. And it's good. My health is getting better, I'm taking care of myself and figuring out what I need. I've been re-hired at Corepower Yoga to teach five classes a week for now. They even sponsored me to get trained to teach Yoga Sculpt (a super fun yoga class that incorporates weights; the best part is I can include Usher on my playlist). So after I'm certified to teach this class, I'll add that into the mix. I really love teaching yoga. It might not sound like the greatest accomplishment, and it might not be the most glamourous post-college job. But, what does it matter what other people think? I feel incredibly blessed to be able to guide people through their yoga practice. I have put a lot of work into being a good teacher, and I continually am learning new ways to deepen my students' practice. I consider it an honor to be able to teach others not only the physical practice of yoga (asana) but also the lifestyle of yoga. I am continuously inspired by my students. It is amazing to be brought into their lives, especially when they share their experiences with me after class. However, my favorite part of teaching is something else. At the end of the class, when they are laying in savasana, I go around and place a cool towel on their forehead. What they don't know is that I say a prayer for each of them individually. Have you ever prayed intentionally for a stranger? It's really beautiful.
And that's what I do. I create awesome playlists, teach people to bend in funny ways, they leave class soaked in their own sweat, and I secretly pray for them. It's okay if you think it's funny. I guess it is a little. :) But you know what? I'm spreading love, and that's what it's all about.
Other than yoga, I've been spending oober amounts of time with my family and friends. It feels so good to be around them. One of the campus ministers, Rob, from USD, is now working at DePaul University. So, the other night, I got to visit with him and go to DePaul's taize prayer service. It was truly breathtaking. I'm pretty stoked to get more involved in different groups in Chicago that work towards social justice. I visited one of Chicago's Catholic Worker houses and hope to do some work with them soon. I've also been exploring dance therapy, and am really excited about the possibility of studying it further...
What I'm trying to say is that after I made the decision to leave JVC, I felt very lost, and still continue to at times. I felt a little paralyzed...what do I do now? How will I ever find meaning to my life right now? But, as we have been told, "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you" (Matt 7:7).
Well, I'm knockin'.
I'll sign off in prayer:
My Lord God I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that my desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
-Thomas Merton
Thursday, October 7, 2010
the soul felt its worth
As I stand and look into the mirror
I see a figure of a girl
Trying to live for something more.
Won't you come and make me whole?
_____________________________________________________________
"Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth."
No, I'm not trying to start Christmas off even earlier this year (although I LOVE Christmas!), but I want to highlight this lyric. Father Greg Boyle used this same lyric in his book Tattoos on the Heart. He said that it's his favorite line of any song because it truly describes what happens when one of his "homies" (gang members) realizes how much he/she is worth. Each life is worth so very very much.
Isn't it funny how life works? Last week was the first week that I really began to "feel my worth." I finally pieced together the string of ups and downs, the joys, the hopes, and the fears that led me to October. It was last week that I finally felt that I belonged...I belonged to Dolores Mission Parish--they needed my presence. I belonged to my community--my actual presence (yes, my presence) made a difference. I am, in fact, part of this body, this body of Christ. Many parts but one body. I was beginning to feel a part of that in my East LA community. I saw that they needed me as much as I needed them. I was beginning to feel at home.
But, my body had other plans. I really don't want to go into a whole dramatic sequence of events. I am not looking for the kind of response that happens when these things are said -- a tilt of the head and a look of pity. That's really the last thing I want. But, I am going to keep up with this blog, so I will witness to what has happened.
As I've mentioned, my Crohn's disease has been a bit of a struggle lately. During this past week, as my excitement about being a Jesuit Volunteer increased, my body was unable to keep up. I am not complaining in anyway, but I must state that being a JV is an extremely physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting occupation. The challenge is met with love and welcomed whole heartedly. I've heard it said that the year of JVC breaks you down only to rebuild you back up again. For any normal, healthy person, this year is one of the hardest years of their life; but for a person dealing with a chronic disease, it can be even more of a toll.
I've grown up never using my Crohn's as an excuse. I saw it as a personal weakness to excuse myself from participating in activities or from getting out of any obligations or commitments. I didn't see myself as deserving any special treatment just because of this disease. I would not give it that power. I still do not want to give it that power. I do not want to step down and let it be my priority. It seems like such a waste of energy that could easily consume me. I have so much I want to do, so much more I want to live for. The pain comes and goes, but I get over it. It consumes my being for the time it takes, I take a breath, and I go on. I don't think twice. I have been told that my tolerance for pain is higher than most, which makes sense since I've had this disease for over half of my life. I just grew up assuming that other people feel the same pain. I still have a hard time understanding what it would be like to not feel the way that I do from day to day.
A curse and a blessing.
Because I have such a high tolerance, I have not been able to recognize when I need help. I haven't gotten the treatment that I probably needed because I have just toughed it out. Now, at the beginning of this new chapter of the rest of my life, I am being forced to slow down. I am being forced to take a step back and evaluate what is important. Last Thursday, I left work early again because I felt too weak to make it through the entire day. I was incredibly upset with myself, yet again, and called my parents to ask for their advice. Finally, we came to the conclusion that I needed to be seen by my doctor, and that meant going home. They had me booked on a flight for the following day. I felt sick that I knew I was leaving my community, but at the same time, I knew--deep down--that I needed to do this.
That night, Paula and I had a special event planned for our youth group. We organized a BBQ in conjunction with the Guadalupe Homeless Project and IMPACTO. We bought over a hundred burgers and hot dogs from Costco and relied on other people to bring an assortment of side dishes, drinks, and desserts. We have been so excited about this event for the last few weeks. In past blogs I have mentioned these two other groups, but in case you missed it, GHP is the group of homeless men who have been given shelter at Dolores Mission Parish. They sleep in the church every night, are given breakfast and dinner each day, and are assisted in finding work for the day. They are welcome to stay for three months, and by the end, most leave with a job and a home. The men are absolutely amazing, and I am so proud to call a few of them my friends. I feel so incredibly humbled and thankful to be welcomed into their lives...to be a part of their story. The other group, IMPACTO, is an after school program that runs through high school. We got all three of these groups together, plus families, to have a fiesta. We even had a DJ to add in to the fun!
Needless to say, I did not want to miss this event. I was not feeling well at all, but Katie picked me up from the house and took me to the church. Thankfully, I gained some energy and was able to have a wonderful time. It was so moving to see everyone come together. As Paula and I tried to figure out how to grill the hamburgers, one of the homeless men named Angel came to our rescue. He laughed a little bit at our attempt, and gladly took over. I watched this man, this man who had been through so much, as he prepared the grill. He looked like any dad, he was a natural. Angel had the biggest grin upon his face as he prepared the meal for the night. A few more of the men got their turn in and were overjoyed to help out.
You see, these men are served every day. The parishioners of Dolores Mission have barely anything themselves, but they somehow pull enough together to feed and shelter these men everyday. The men are so incredibly grateful, you can see it in their eyes, in their smiles, you can hear it in their conversations. So, when they are given the chance to give back, you can't imagine how happy it makes them. I watched Angel and the other men serve their fellow GHP men, plus the women who serve them every day, plus the youth who live in the Boyle Heights community. I could feel how empowered they felt from this simple action. I could not help but be reminded of a moment at the University of San Diego when, in preparation for the Search retreat, I had the honor to wash the feet of my peers who had given me so much with their presence in my life alone....but that is another story in itself...
To say the least, the BBQ was a hit. It brought together people who might not always be in contact, and it allowed the served to serve. I cannot tell you how good it felt to see the genuine smiles, to watch the little kids running around playing tag, to see mothers and daughters dancing together, and to hear the laughter exuding from this church. This church that is located in the largest public housing project west of the Mississippi. We were all alive and surrounded by love. What else could we want? It was truly inspiring.
At the end of the night, I was faced back with the reality of my flight leaving the next day. I couldn't ignore it any longer, so I had to talk to my community about it. When we all arrived home, we sat down together and I told them that I needed to go home to be treated for my Crohn's and to figure out a game plan--because mine was obviously not working. We were all very upset, but my casamates are all so so supportive. We stayed up together later than usual and watched a few episodes of Friends. 11-o-clock rolled around, and we all knew it was time to get to bed for the day of work that was in front of us. But, none of us wanted to stand up. We sat there, in silence, for what seemed like forever. No one knew what to do or what to say. Finally, Greg broke the silence by suggesting that it seemed like the perfect time for a prayer. My casamates each said a prayer for our community and for me. My soul felt its worth.
To make a long story short, I arrived home late Friday night and was admitted to the University of Chicago hospital first thing Saturday morning. I was overwhelmed with the love of my family and all of their support--I felt completely cushioned from every direction. On Saturday night, I was given a blood transfusion because I had lost so much blood due to my condition and my anemia level was so severe. My parents and my brother, Alec, were sitting around watching football with me when all of a sudden, two of my best friends walked in the door. Becky and Michelle surprised me, I had no idea that they could find where I was or that they were coming, and they came bearing some pretty funny and cute cards as well as a great set of pajamas to wear instead of those stupid hospital gowns! I was so happy to see them. They stuck around with my family until visiting hours were up and then went to dinner with Alec and drove him home.
Saturday night was my first night alone in a hospital. I almost got to sleep when, at 11 pm, a surgeon came in to tell me that I would most likely have to undergo a very serious surgery (I'd prefer not to mention the details here). My heart sunk and the tears that I resisted with all of my might came rushing out. The poor man didn't know what to do. He could only say he was sorry and assured me that it wasn't completely for sure yet. He left me--alone. There are really no words to describe the way I felt...fear? disbelief? desperation? These words, they just don't cut it.
And then my angel, my nurse, Pam, came into my room. It might not be on her job description, but she sat with me and hugged me, she held me in her arms as I wept. She stayed with me and listened to my pain, and offered help. She told me about all of the patients she takes care of who are around my age and have undergone the same surgery. She revealed to me all of the positive outcomes of having this operation. She opened my eyes to see that it was not all negative, that in actuality, having this surgery would free me from Crohn's disease. It is an incurable disease unless completely removed. It was a lot to take, but oddly, it made me feel better. I was able to see some light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel.
The rest of the night, I was poked and prodded at every few minutes, but other than that I had time to think. Every other moment I would slip back into the darkness and fear that closed me up, but I spent the hours with my God. I imagined him sitting in the chair by my bed, holding my hand. I listened as he spoke to me. He didn't say much. He told me that he would never give me something that I could not handle, and that I didn't have to worry about losing him--He would always be there with me. I would never be alone. Strangely, by around 4 in the morning, I had come to a point of almost accepting this surgery. I had a sense of peace. I do not want to become detached and bitter because of my Crohn's, I don't want to lose my compassion and my ability to see God in all things. That is what I fear the most. And that's when I realized...they can take anything away from me. They can cut and sew me together again, but they can't remove me from God. No one can do that. And then, I was okay. As long as I have God, as long as I can love and be loved, nothing--nothing--can bring me down.
After this night of intensity, my family and I grew a little restless about the uncertainty of what was to come. I was still afraid, but with a new sense of peace, and I could truly feel the prayers that were being said by my friends and family near and far. My heart was being held together and I was strong.
On Monday, the doctors were able to do a complete test to see what was currently going on with my disease. We nervously awaited the results...and finally my doctor came into my room. Although my Crohn's is very severe in certain areas, he is not willing to give up yet. The last resort would be to turn to surgery, but he told me that he does not want to give up quite yet. It took a while to sink in, but I realized that I had received a miracle. I was given a second chance. I really believe in the power of the prayer that was circulating around me this past week. My soul feels its worth.
Thank you for loving me.
"I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."
-Matthew 25:36
I see a figure of a girl
Trying to live for something more.
Won't you come and make me whole?
_____________________________________________________________
"Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth."
No, I'm not trying to start Christmas off even earlier this year (although I LOVE Christmas!), but I want to highlight this lyric. Father Greg Boyle used this same lyric in his book Tattoos on the Heart. He said that it's his favorite line of any song because it truly describes what happens when one of his "homies" (gang members) realizes how much he/she is worth. Each life is worth so very very much.
Isn't it funny how life works? Last week was the first week that I really began to "feel my worth." I finally pieced together the string of ups and downs, the joys, the hopes, and the fears that led me to October. It was last week that I finally felt that I belonged...I belonged to Dolores Mission Parish--they needed my presence. I belonged to my community--my actual presence (yes, my presence) made a difference. I am, in fact, part of this body, this body of Christ. Many parts but one body. I was beginning to feel a part of that in my East LA community. I saw that they needed me as much as I needed them. I was beginning to feel at home.
But, my body had other plans. I really don't want to go into a whole dramatic sequence of events. I am not looking for the kind of response that happens when these things are said -- a tilt of the head and a look of pity. That's really the last thing I want. But, I am going to keep up with this blog, so I will witness to what has happened.
As I've mentioned, my Crohn's disease has been a bit of a struggle lately. During this past week, as my excitement about being a Jesuit Volunteer increased, my body was unable to keep up. I am not complaining in anyway, but I must state that being a JV is an extremely physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting occupation. The challenge is met with love and welcomed whole heartedly. I've heard it said that the year of JVC breaks you down only to rebuild you back up again. For any normal, healthy person, this year is one of the hardest years of their life; but for a person dealing with a chronic disease, it can be even more of a toll.
I've grown up never using my Crohn's as an excuse. I saw it as a personal weakness to excuse myself from participating in activities or from getting out of any obligations or commitments. I didn't see myself as deserving any special treatment just because of this disease. I would not give it that power. I still do not want to give it that power. I do not want to step down and let it be my priority. It seems like such a waste of energy that could easily consume me. I have so much I want to do, so much more I want to live for. The pain comes and goes, but I get over it. It consumes my being for the time it takes, I take a breath, and I go on. I don't think twice. I have been told that my tolerance for pain is higher than most, which makes sense since I've had this disease for over half of my life. I just grew up assuming that other people feel the same pain. I still have a hard time understanding what it would be like to not feel the way that I do from day to day.
A curse and a blessing.
Because I have such a high tolerance, I have not been able to recognize when I need help. I haven't gotten the treatment that I probably needed because I have just toughed it out. Now, at the beginning of this new chapter of the rest of my life, I am being forced to slow down. I am being forced to take a step back and evaluate what is important. Last Thursday, I left work early again because I felt too weak to make it through the entire day. I was incredibly upset with myself, yet again, and called my parents to ask for their advice. Finally, we came to the conclusion that I needed to be seen by my doctor, and that meant going home. They had me booked on a flight for the following day. I felt sick that I knew I was leaving my community, but at the same time, I knew--deep down--that I needed to do this.
That night, Paula and I had a special event planned for our youth group. We organized a BBQ in conjunction with the Guadalupe Homeless Project and IMPACTO. We bought over a hundred burgers and hot dogs from Costco and relied on other people to bring an assortment of side dishes, drinks, and desserts. We have been so excited about this event for the last few weeks. In past blogs I have mentioned these two other groups, but in case you missed it, GHP is the group of homeless men who have been given shelter at Dolores Mission Parish. They sleep in the church every night, are given breakfast and dinner each day, and are assisted in finding work for the day. They are welcome to stay for three months, and by the end, most leave with a job and a home. The men are absolutely amazing, and I am so proud to call a few of them my friends. I feel so incredibly humbled and thankful to be welcomed into their lives...to be a part of their story. The other group, IMPACTO, is an after school program that runs through high school. We got all three of these groups together, plus families, to have a fiesta. We even had a DJ to add in to the fun!
Needless to say, I did not want to miss this event. I was not feeling well at all, but Katie picked me up from the house and took me to the church. Thankfully, I gained some energy and was able to have a wonderful time. It was so moving to see everyone come together. As Paula and I tried to figure out how to grill the hamburgers, one of the homeless men named Angel came to our rescue. He laughed a little bit at our attempt, and gladly took over. I watched this man, this man who had been through so much, as he prepared the grill. He looked like any dad, he was a natural. Angel had the biggest grin upon his face as he prepared the meal for the night. A few more of the men got their turn in and were overjoyed to help out.
You see, these men are served every day. The parishioners of Dolores Mission have barely anything themselves, but they somehow pull enough together to feed and shelter these men everyday. The men are so incredibly grateful, you can see it in their eyes, in their smiles, you can hear it in their conversations. So, when they are given the chance to give back, you can't imagine how happy it makes them. I watched Angel and the other men serve their fellow GHP men, plus the women who serve them every day, plus the youth who live in the Boyle Heights community. I could feel how empowered they felt from this simple action. I could not help but be reminded of a moment at the University of San Diego when, in preparation for the Search retreat, I had the honor to wash the feet of my peers who had given me so much with their presence in my life alone....but that is another story in itself...
To say the least, the BBQ was a hit. It brought together people who might not always be in contact, and it allowed the served to serve. I cannot tell you how good it felt to see the genuine smiles, to watch the little kids running around playing tag, to see mothers and daughters dancing together, and to hear the laughter exuding from this church. This church that is located in the largest public housing project west of the Mississippi. We were all alive and surrounded by love. What else could we want? It was truly inspiring.
At the end of the night, I was faced back with the reality of my flight leaving the next day. I couldn't ignore it any longer, so I had to talk to my community about it. When we all arrived home, we sat down together and I told them that I needed to go home to be treated for my Crohn's and to figure out a game plan--because mine was obviously not working. We were all very upset, but my casamates are all so so supportive. We stayed up together later than usual and watched a few episodes of Friends. 11-o-clock rolled around, and we all knew it was time to get to bed for the day of work that was in front of us. But, none of us wanted to stand up. We sat there, in silence, for what seemed like forever. No one knew what to do or what to say. Finally, Greg broke the silence by suggesting that it seemed like the perfect time for a prayer. My casamates each said a prayer for our community and for me. My soul felt its worth.
To make a long story short, I arrived home late Friday night and was admitted to the University of Chicago hospital first thing Saturday morning. I was overwhelmed with the love of my family and all of their support--I felt completely cushioned from every direction. On Saturday night, I was given a blood transfusion because I had lost so much blood due to my condition and my anemia level was so severe. My parents and my brother, Alec, were sitting around watching football with me when all of a sudden, two of my best friends walked in the door. Becky and Michelle surprised me, I had no idea that they could find where I was or that they were coming, and they came bearing some pretty funny and cute cards as well as a great set of pajamas to wear instead of those stupid hospital gowns! I was so happy to see them. They stuck around with my family until visiting hours were up and then went to dinner with Alec and drove him home.
Saturday night was my first night alone in a hospital. I almost got to sleep when, at 11 pm, a surgeon came in to tell me that I would most likely have to undergo a very serious surgery (I'd prefer not to mention the details here). My heart sunk and the tears that I resisted with all of my might came rushing out. The poor man didn't know what to do. He could only say he was sorry and assured me that it wasn't completely for sure yet. He left me--alone. There are really no words to describe the way I felt...fear? disbelief? desperation? These words, they just don't cut it.
And then my angel, my nurse, Pam, came into my room. It might not be on her job description, but she sat with me and hugged me, she held me in her arms as I wept. She stayed with me and listened to my pain, and offered help. She told me about all of the patients she takes care of who are around my age and have undergone the same surgery. She revealed to me all of the positive outcomes of having this operation. She opened my eyes to see that it was not all negative, that in actuality, having this surgery would free me from Crohn's disease. It is an incurable disease unless completely removed. It was a lot to take, but oddly, it made me feel better. I was able to see some light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel.
The rest of the night, I was poked and prodded at every few minutes, but other than that I had time to think. Every other moment I would slip back into the darkness and fear that closed me up, but I spent the hours with my God. I imagined him sitting in the chair by my bed, holding my hand. I listened as he spoke to me. He didn't say much. He told me that he would never give me something that I could not handle, and that I didn't have to worry about losing him--He would always be there with me. I would never be alone. Strangely, by around 4 in the morning, I had come to a point of almost accepting this surgery. I had a sense of peace. I do not want to become detached and bitter because of my Crohn's, I don't want to lose my compassion and my ability to see God in all things. That is what I fear the most. And that's when I realized...they can take anything away from me. They can cut and sew me together again, but they can't remove me from God. No one can do that. And then, I was okay. As long as I have God, as long as I can love and be loved, nothing--nothing--can bring me down.
After this night of intensity, my family and I grew a little restless about the uncertainty of what was to come. I was still afraid, but with a new sense of peace, and I could truly feel the prayers that were being said by my friends and family near and far. My heart was being held together and I was strong.
On Monday, the doctors were able to do a complete test to see what was currently going on with my disease. We nervously awaited the results...and finally my doctor came into my room. Although my Crohn's is very severe in certain areas, he is not willing to give up yet. The last resort would be to turn to surgery, but he told me that he does not want to give up quite yet. It took a while to sink in, but I realized that I had received a miracle. I was given a second chance. I really believe in the power of the prayer that was circulating around me this past week. My soul feels its worth.
Thank you for loving me.
"I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."
-Matthew 25:36
Sunday, September 26, 2010
the space between
"The space between the tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more." Thank you, Dave Matthews.
As I've mentioned, it's been a bit of a roller coaster lately, but there's so much to feel good about. I have been so caught up in my thoughts, I have barely had time to breathe in the moments surrounding me.
Taking a quote from another one of the men in my life, Mr. John Mayer, "Take all of your so-called problems, better put 'em in quotations." I've wasted enough time wallowing in my own problems, which I might as well just put in quotations. Sure, I've got some things that I'm dealing with right now, but it's definitely nothing close to what I've had to deal with in the past; and it's nothing compared to the problems that some of even some of the kindergartners at Dolores Mission have to deal with daily. Just this past week, my roommate Katie told me about a little boy--a five year old boy--who told her about his father who had been killed by a gang member. He sat there on the bench next to Katie, swinging his feet back and forth, describing a situation that no five-year-old should be able to recount.
Last weekend, Katie and I were invited to attend a Dodger's game with the rest of the Dolores Mission faculty. We were watching the game (might I add from a donated luxury suite!) when the principal of DM, Karina, described one of the shootings that happened last year. The day started like any other, the eighth grade class was outside in the parking lot for their PE class when some of the kids spotted a group of five men running down the street, bandanas covering their faces from their eyes down, each of them holding an AK-47. They were shooting at a rivaling gang. The kids immediately dropped to the ground, following what they call the "pancake drill." They knew exactly what to do, just like they had practiced during drills. It's normal. It's routine. Just like a fifth grade me knew exactly what to do when the fire alarm or the--God forbid--tornado alarm went off. These kids know exactly what to do when they see armed, angry men running down the street ready to shoot for the kill. Karina ended the story by saying the day went by very smoothly. It is scary, she said, how good her students and faculty had become at handling the "pancake drill." Last Spring, it was used weekly.
Routine.
The run-down of this past week:
Sunday~ Jeff Baucher visited Ita Ford and took me out to lunch downtown! It was amazing to see him, and my roomies LOVED him because he brought four or five bags of groceries and goodies to us! Typical Jeff! The most amazing part about seeing Jeff was that he had realized that the cemetery a few blocks from my house is where his grandfather and a few other family members are buried. His grandfather had grown up in Boyle Heights--the area that I work in used to be populated by mostly Italians. This really hit me because Jeff and I have had some amazing conversations about the way our grandparents have impacted our lives, and how we are still in awe of their love. We really have connected through our love of family. So, Jeff and I went to visit the graves of his family members, and ended up standing by his grandfather's grave, silently praying, for a few moments. It was an honor to be welcomed into his life in this way.
Monday~Went to work, got through the most part of the day feeling like complete crap, and finally couldn't go on any longer, so I took off a little after noon. I went home, and feeling overwhelmed and tired of this constant fatigue and sickness, I reached out to my parents and one of my best friends. I wanted answers. Should I stay? Should I leave? I was so angry that I had to cancel the first day of Aliso Pico Dance Co, the kids were pretty disappointed, too. But, it was probably best that I got rest that night.
Tuesday~ One of the highlights of Tuesday was that we started meditations with the eighth graders. I have been experimenting with writing meditations on the weekly Gospels. A few of us that work for the parish meet with 4-5 eighth grade students for about 50 minutes every Tuesday. We start by reading the Gospel, we then go into the meditation, afterwards they answer a couple of reflection questions, we share our reflections with one another, we then anoint one another's hands with oil, and end in a pass-around prayer. My group consists of five girls...and I was really impressed with their openness and ability to reflect at a deeper level! I'm excited to share this experience with them every week.
Wednesday~ highlight: Jesuit Charities Golf Tournament. Paula and I got to sit at a table at the Rosebowl and hand out goody bags/polo shirts to the golfers. It was pretty fun to spend time with the faculty outside of work, and to meet some of the big shots who provide funding for Dolores Mission. I love messing/joking around with the older men (not in a creepy, weird way, I swear), but it was fun to get to talk to them for a bit. That night, Paula and I had our first Scholar's Meeting. This is for all of the alumni of DM that received a scholarship to go onto Catholic High Schools. We expected around 40 teens to show up. Oh, and they did. In a liiiiittle room. 40 TEENS. Did I say TEENS? I don't want to even start on how that went. Just use your imagination.
Thursday~ Two highlights. Thursday morning, I got to talk to my Kelsey who is doing JVC in San Antonio. She is a constant reminder of the presence of God in my life, and love is constantly overpouring from her heart. The second highlight was our Youth Group that night. Not as many kids showed up on Thursday (which was a nice break from the night before), there were only about 7 of them. But, we got to have a great conversation. We watched a few scenes from Mean Girls and talked about the issue of gossip. Each of the kids had a lot to say about the issue, and I think it really was helpful to have an open conversation about why we gossip, why it hurts, why we shouldn't, and what we can do to strengthen ourselves and resist. It was helpful for everyone, including me.
Friday~ Highlights: Colleen's parents came to visit from Connecticut! They took Paula and I to lunch and then took all of our casamates out to dinner that night. It was so comforting to be with Mr. and Mrs. Kerrisk, I think we all felt a little more at home with some parental loving care :)
Weekend~ San Diego. What can I say? Something happened to me there. Something happened that left it's print on my heart so deeply that it can never be removed. I am captivated by the ocean, the beaches, the care-free lifestyle. But, mostly, I am captivated by the people that I have met there. I have met the most unreal, unfathomable, friends that I could ever imagine in San Diego. I don't know if I could get through this experience of JVC without their support and affirmations. Being so close to SD is an incredible blessing. To top it off, Paula Morreale joined my roomies and I for the weekend in SD. It felt amazing to be back, especially with Paula and my new friends by my side. We got to stay with Andy and Bryce, who are the silliest most welcoming hosts in the entire world. I cannot even get into how entertained we were by their company. We also were able to spend time with Kevo, which was incredible, and so very needed. We even got to go to a bar with our new 21 year old--Nina! Seeing these people and spending just a little bit of time reminded me of my reasons for being who I am. We got to surf on Saturday, did the Mission Beach scene that night, had a sleeping bag sleep over in Bryce's room, and on Sunday did a quick tour of SD by foot and car :) It was a breath of fresh air. I already can't wait to get back there.
Life goes up and it goes down. We cry and we laugh. And then there's the space. The space that "keeps us coming back for more." I talked to my amazing cousin Stina this past week. She told me how for her birthday, instead of receiving presents, she asked for donations for my dance company. Stina raised $300 for me to buy the kids dance shoes and clothing--I cannot even begin to express how much this means to me. There are no words. And then there's my other cousins Stacy and Jess and my friend Lorena who have been asking how they can go about sending their old dance wear to help the cause. People are incredible. This past Friday, Paula and I were invited to the 3rd grade classroom to help celebrate Father Scott and the 3rd grade teacher's birthdays. The kids presented Father Scott with a birthday card that each of them had signed. One of the kids wrote, "Happy Birthday, Fathers God." Father-sGod....Father Scott. The space between.
As I've mentioned, it's been a bit of a roller coaster lately, but there's so much to feel good about. I have been so caught up in my thoughts, I have barely had time to breathe in the moments surrounding me.
Taking a quote from another one of the men in my life, Mr. John Mayer, "Take all of your so-called problems, better put 'em in quotations." I've wasted enough time wallowing in my own problems, which I might as well just put in quotations. Sure, I've got some things that I'm dealing with right now, but it's definitely nothing close to what I've had to deal with in the past; and it's nothing compared to the problems that some of even some of the kindergartners at Dolores Mission have to deal with daily. Just this past week, my roommate Katie told me about a little boy--a five year old boy--who told her about his father who had been killed by a gang member. He sat there on the bench next to Katie, swinging his feet back and forth, describing a situation that no five-year-old should be able to recount.
Last weekend, Katie and I were invited to attend a Dodger's game with the rest of the Dolores Mission faculty. We were watching the game (might I add from a donated luxury suite!) when the principal of DM, Karina, described one of the shootings that happened last year. The day started like any other, the eighth grade class was outside in the parking lot for their PE class when some of the kids spotted a group of five men running down the street, bandanas covering their faces from their eyes down, each of them holding an AK-47. They were shooting at a rivaling gang. The kids immediately dropped to the ground, following what they call the "pancake drill." They knew exactly what to do, just like they had practiced during drills. It's normal. It's routine. Just like a fifth grade me knew exactly what to do when the fire alarm or the--God forbid--tornado alarm went off. These kids know exactly what to do when they see armed, angry men running down the street ready to shoot for the kill. Karina ended the story by saying the day went by very smoothly. It is scary, she said, how good her students and faculty had become at handling the "pancake drill." Last Spring, it was used weekly.
Routine.
The run-down of this past week:
Sunday~ Jeff Baucher visited Ita Ford and took me out to lunch downtown! It was amazing to see him, and my roomies LOVED him because he brought four or five bags of groceries and goodies to us! Typical Jeff! The most amazing part about seeing Jeff was that he had realized that the cemetery a few blocks from my house is where his grandfather and a few other family members are buried. His grandfather had grown up in Boyle Heights--the area that I work in used to be populated by mostly Italians. This really hit me because Jeff and I have had some amazing conversations about the way our grandparents have impacted our lives, and how we are still in awe of their love. We really have connected through our love of family. So, Jeff and I went to visit the graves of his family members, and ended up standing by his grandfather's grave, silently praying, for a few moments. It was an honor to be welcomed into his life in this way.
Monday~Went to work, got through the most part of the day feeling like complete crap, and finally couldn't go on any longer, so I took off a little after noon. I went home, and feeling overwhelmed and tired of this constant fatigue and sickness, I reached out to my parents and one of my best friends. I wanted answers. Should I stay? Should I leave? I was so angry that I had to cancel the first day of Aliso Pico Dance Co, the kids were pretty disappointed, too. But, it was probably best that I got rest that night.
Tuesday~ One of the highlights of Tuesday was that we started meditations with the eighth graders. I have been experimenting with writing meditations on the weekly Gospels. A few of us that work for the parish meet with 4-5 eighth grade students for about 50 minutes every Tuesday. We start by reading the Gospel, we then go into the meditation, afterwards they answer a couple of reflection questions, we share our reflections with one another, we then anoint one another's hands with oil, and end in a pass-around prayer. My group consists of five girls...and I was really impressed with their openness and ability to reflect at a deeper level! I'm excited to share this experience with them every week.
Wednesday~ highlight: Jesuit Charities Golf Tournament. Paula and I got to sit at a table at the Rosebowl and hand out goody bags/polo shirts to the golfers. It was pretty fun to spend time with the faculty outside of work, and to meet some of the big shots who provide funding for Dolores Mission. I love messing/joking around with the older men (not in a creepy, weird way, I swear), but it was fun to get to talk to them for a bit. That night, Paula and I had our first Scholar's Meeting. This is for all of the alumni of DM that received a scholarship to go onto Catholic High Schools. We expected around 40 teens to show up. Oh, and they did. In a liiiiittle room. 40 TEENS. Did I say TEENS? I don't want to even start on how that went. Just use your imagination.
Thursday~ Two highlights. Thursday morning, I got to talk to my Kelsey who is doing JVC in San Antonio. She is a constant reminder of the presence of God in my life, and love is constantly overpouring from her heart. The second highlight was our Youth Group that night. Not as many kids showed up on Thursday (which was a nice break from the night before), there were only about 7 of them. But, we got to have a great conversation. We watched a few scenes from Mean Girls and talked about the issue of gossip. Each of the kids had a lot to say about the issue, and I think it really was helpful to have an open conversation about why we gossip, why it hurts, why we shouldn't, and what we can do to strengthen ourselves and resist. It was helpful for everyone, including me.
Friday~ Highlights: Colleen's parents came to visit from Connecticut! They took Paula and I to lunch and then took all of our casamates out to dinner that night. It was so comforting to be with Mr. and Mrs. Kerrisk, I think we all felt a little more at home with some parental loving care :)
Weekend~ San Diego. What can I say? Something happened to me there. Something happened that left it's print on my heart so deeply that it can never be removed. I am captivated by the ocean, the beaches, the care-free lifestyle. But, mostly, I am captivated by the people that I have met there. I have met the most unreal, unfathomable, friends that I could ever imagine in San Diego. I don't know if I could get through this experience of JVC without their support and affirmations. Being so close to SD is an incredible blessing. To top it off, Paula Morreale joined my roomies and I for the weekend in SD. It felt amazing to be back, especially with Paula and my new friends by my side. We got to stay with Andy and Bryce, who are the silliest most welcoming hosts in the entire world. I cannot even get into how entertained we were by their company. We also were able to spend time with Kevo, which was incredible, and so very needed. We even got to go to a bar with our new 21 year old--Nina! Seeing these people and spending just a little bit of time reminded me of my reasons for being who I am. We got to surf on Saturday, did the Mission Beach scene that night, had a sleeping bag sleep over in Bryce's room, and on Sunday did a quick tour of SD by foot and car :) It was a breath of fresh air. I already can't wait to get back there.
Life goes up and it goes down. We cry and we laugh. And then there's the space. The space that "keeps us coming back for more." I talked to my amazing cousin Stina this past week. She told me how for her birthday, instead of receiving presents, she asked for donations for my dance company. Stina raised $300 for me to buy the kids dance shoes and clothing--I cannot even begin to express how much this means to me. There are no words. And then there's my other cousins Stacy and Jess and my friend Lorena who have been asking how they can go about sending their old dance wear to help the cause. People are incredible. This past Friday, Paula and I were invited to the 3rd grade classroom to help celebrate Father Scott and the 3rd grade teacher's birthdays. The kids presented Father Scott with a birthday card that each of them had signed. One of the kids wrote, "Happy Birthday, Fathers God." Father-sGod....Father Scott. The space between.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
just another heart in need of rescue
We are delicate.
Hearts break for different reasons.Sometimes just little pieces break loose.
Other times, big chunks.
Scotch tape and glue won't work.
Who will fill the emptiness?
We need each other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm going to be honest. This is a lot tougher than I thought it would be. I find each day to be a roller coaster of feeling fully present and fulfilled by the work I am doing, and other moments leave me with so much emptiness that I just don't understand what I am doing here. Why didn't I just make it easier on myself? Stay a little closer to home? But no, I had to come all the way out here, to a neighborhood that overwhelmingly does not speak my language or share my culture. But, that's nothing. The culture, the new community--all of that is something that excites me and challenges me in a good way. But there are some things that break me down and tear me apart. Some things leave me feeling paralyzed and stuck.
The things that I am talking about are things like the fact that one of my mom's best friends passed away this past Tuesday because she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. We've all heard stories about people passing away in terrible ways, but when it hits home? It's different. I felt completely helpless and numb. I can't think about the situation without feeling sick. I want to be home for my mom and to help the family. Immediately after I found out and talked to my mom, a woman named Ellie who works with me at Dolores Mission was there to catch me. She stayed with me, despite the fact that she had meetings to attend, and brought me down to the chapel to stay as long as I wanted. The next day I walked into my office and she had left yellow roses on my desk and a note. That afternoon, I had to attend an evaluation meeting about the summer program. Completely in Spanish. For the most part, I kept up, but my head was spinning from trying so hard to understand that my mind would drift off to other thoughts. My heart was breaking for my mom and for the Bisoulis family.
After the meeting, I went home to my casamates. We ate dinner, and they knew I was upset so they took me to get frozen yogurt and they even watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants for me (Greg included! :)
I fall, and I am carried. I fall again. But, always, I am lifted up.
Little victories.
The sun took a while to show itself yesterday. Even in Los Angeles. I woke up early to make my commute to Beverly Hills where I had a doctor appointment. The clouds and fog blanketed the streets, matching my mood. Although I hate to admit it, I really have a hard time going to the doctor--especially away from home. My doctor in Chicago wants me to see a specialist here in LA every six weeks to keep up with my Crohn's. Well, that's great, except for the fact that I have a hard time facing the fact that I have this disease. I like to live my life thinking that I am perfectly healthy, but more recently I've been getting the carpet pulled from under me, and I am forced to look it right in the eye. I am afraid...I said it. I walked out of the office unable to breathe, thanking God that I was in the hospital in case I fainted right there in the hallway. I felt, and continue to feel, helpless. Fear paralyzes us. I don't exactly want to get into the details of the appointment or why I was so upset in this public blog. I spent the next half hour trying to calm down, talking to my parents on the phone, before I could safely drive back home. Later that night, I got to talk to my dear friend, Sean Lawlor, someone who I look up to in so many ways. Sean has got so many things right. He is the person I go to when I know we are going to have an amazing conversation that challenges me to be a better person, and at the same time leaves me feeling loved and at peace. Sean listened as I spewed out the events of the day and the prior month. It struck me when he told me he could tell how upset I was by the way I was speaking so quickly. I can't begin to explain how good it feels to talk to someone who knows me, knows how I work. He was right. And I slowed down.
We fall and we rise.
Change promotes growth. Discomfort is a symptom of growth. Growing pains are real. But, not all is dark. Light protrudes its way through. Walking into a room full of 2nd and 3rd graders who cannot wait to get their arms wrapped around you is an example of this light. Teaching little kids to dance and seeing their smiling faces is light. Having a silly conversation with an older man at the Food-4-Less and seeing how big of an impact that human contact had on his day is light. Getting funny notes quoting Old Greg from my wonderful roomie is light. Grocery shopping and talking about what we can do to live more simply and mindfully with my other roommate is light.
Yes, I am hurting. But, I am okay. I am walking blindly. I am trusting God to bring me through. I know it's going to be tough, and it might get tougher from here. But, truly, the best is yet to come. I will walk forward with my heart wide open.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)