embracing what is and choosing hope

These days I am learning to look at what is and embrace it rather than pining for what I would want it to be.

It doesn't seem to come easy, though. There have been days (and many of them) when I have just been looking backwards, and instead of counting my blessings, I have been counting my losses, as if remembering them all somehow was vital. As if by remembering I was slowly building an identity that says, "I am the woman to whom all that happened, and here she is, defined by her losses". 

I would read all the stories about refugees and people who have been maimed or disfigured and feel I was connected somehow, thinking, "yep, that's me too, but with the difference that my scars are on the inside, and nobody else can see that actually half of me is missing, and even though I still have my passport, I have no sense of home anymore". My identity was slowly turning into that of a perpetual victim, and I was becoming a memorial to past pain.

And then one day not so long ago I caught myself saying to a friend, "My next 20 years will be the most productive of my life". I was startled, because as I said it, I actually realized that is what I really "know" to be true. And then in another occasion I heard myself telling my life story and describe these past five years as a dark dip in an otherwise great adventure with lots of turns and twists of the plot, making it all the more interesting.

The change happened, I think, when slowly but surely, I chose hope. And chose to embrace what is. Not making it my identity, but rather making it a part of the unique story that is mine. I still wish for many things to be different, but hope is more solid than a wish. With hope comes the realization that there are indeed things that I am in charge of, one of which definitely is to be more clear about who I think I am.

I embrace a rock solid hope of a bright future, but whether it turns out to be like I envision it now or not, I am still me. My bruises or the flowers in my hair are not me, not even a part of me. But they most definitely are what has happened to me. Especially the flowers.

messy, tidy and tolerance

I'm not the tidiest person in the world. Nor am the messiest, but probably I have a higher tolerance for clutter and apparent mess than many of my friends. I'm not bothered by messy homes, mine or those of my friends (after all, I'm more interested in them than in their houses). Dirty clothes/floors/bathrooms bother me, messy don't. Also, if I ever visit your home, I will not criticize you for your home not being in perfect order, nor will I be offended if you visiting me feel an irressistible urge to organize my things/kitchen/cupboard.

Only recently have I realized that this is actually a gift in disguise, or rather the flip side of a gift.

I am also good at seeing structure underlying an apparent chaos; I can see patterns emerging and similarities popping up easily, unfazed by the clutter that might surround them. I'm  delight in spotting talent and beauty in all sorts of places, again not bothred by the disorder around them.  

I like having people in my home, regardless of the mess they make. And just like I can see the order that one day will be even in my house, so, in the lives of many, I can see structure, talent and beautiful patterns even when they are still buried underneath a lot of immature chaos. The downside of this all is, alas, also a very present reality: do I tolerate the present chaos simply because I childishly believe one day it will be no more, simply because I can see what it could be? 

As always, beauty might lie in the eye of the beholder...  and sometimes order too!

A New Season

It seems like with the turning of the year also the season has changed.

No longer is it the season for goodbyes and mourning, but the tide has turned, Aslan has roared and this will be made new!

It is a season of welcome! So welcome new directions, welcome new experiences, welcome new people into my life, welcome change!

As a tangible sign of this, my time at the Morning Star (see http://annelis-seachange.blogspot.fi/2011_03_01_archive.html) nears its end, and I will move to an apartment that has been in my family from before I was born. In fact, my Dad used to live there when he was child.
So the new and the old are once more blended together, resulting in a visible/tangible example of all-things-made-new!

With this move, it feels as if my wandering years are over,  and that I will have a more stable base than I have had in years. Yet, it doesn't seem that  would be confined by this stability, rather the opposite. Having a base I will be free to come and to go, and still find pasture :)

So, goodbye Morning Star and hello new life!

why share?

Sharing. That's what blogs and Facebooks and Twitters are all about. Sharing something of yourself for others to see.

Why do we do it? 

I don't claim to know all the answers even for why I do it, let alone others. But maybe it has to do with weaving. I weave a community by the words and pictures I share. I create a reality, a story, a world into which others can enter and become part of my story, as I become part of theirs. And so as I share something of what is important to me, I also partcipate in weaving fine webs that hold people together, connected to  one another.

To my amazement I keep finding that even the kind of "lightweight" sharing that takes place in FB actually creates a platform for friendship to happen and to be maintained active. There are people who write about their mundane life so interestingly taht even my dull and normal days get gilded with humor through their experiences.

Lately I have also become aware what a potent way of encouragement  this sharing is. In following some of my friends blogs and FB updates I have found what the old Italian saying talks about:

                                             

                                         Mal comune - mezzo gaudio!

Even the greatest pain and the saddest sadness actually get less heavy to bear when you know that someone is going through the same, or that at least they (try to) understand, or are at least willing to read/listen what you have to share. 

I think we were created to go through life together,  sharing stuff  - and that's why we do it!

peeling scabs

I have always liked speed. Fast cars, airplanes, boats, bike rides... you name it, and if it makes the air whistle in your ears and tousles your hair, I like it. And I've never been very patient with anything slow. 

And now I find that even this sea-change is not and cannot be the whirlwind (I love the sound of this word :) experience I thought it should or could be.

Somebody has likened having your heart broken to open-heart surgery, and as our brains seem to process emotional pain in the same place as physical pain, it is no wonder that these past 3 years I have often felt like a convalescent surgery-patient. The recovery process simply takes a lot more time and is way more profound than I had thought. Many times I've asked like kids in the back-seat of the car, "Are we there yet?" and made almost exactly the same sound of "mgmgngngnnaafhmpf" when I've realized the answer is no.

So, slowly, I've learned to give myself the permission to take the time I need to heal and not to be embarrassed about it. 

And I'm learning to be patient with the slow thing that is called me and my no-longer-bleeding-but-still-at-times-aching heart. 

The most amazing thing seems to happen as a consequence: as I let go of the expectations I have on myself, and stop peeling the scab off the wounds of my heart (you know the way we did as kids? I still have scars to show that that really doesn't help the healing to be quicker at all), the miraculous takes place... left alone in the silent velvety darkness of my heart, the seeds of joy, life, peace and laughter hidden in my heart have had the space to grow, and all of a sudden I find that I'm truly alive again, and that the night is passing...

and so time picks up speed again... :)

Aslan has roared and Spring is on its way!

time: kairos vs chronos

At the beginning of this year I was struck again by the different notions of time and how life simply doesn't follow the chronological ordering of time.

Life flows not only by days, weeks and years, but is also marked by once-in-a-lifetime events, chance meetings of utter significance, special encounters, eureka! moments. And they cannot be ordered to come. Chronology can be planned, but these special times cannot. The ancient Greeks called this other kind of time 'kairos'.

'Kairos' moments cannot be fabricated or had at a whim, they seem to be more in the line of something that interrupts the 'chronos' of our normal life, and brings a challenge to change in its wake.

So much of my life as a researcher revolves around 'chronos': deadlines, extensions of grants etc, but yet, the substance of my research comes from those 'kairos' moments periods of time.

Wikipedia says, "In rhetoric kairos is "a passing instant when an opening appears which must be driven through with force if success is to be achieved."

The connotation there is that not only is there a window of opportunity, but that skill is also needed to use it, to actually achieve that which the specific time-bound opportunity makes possible for one to achieve. In built in 'kairos' is the idea of the "right time" for something to happen.

I find myself this spring in such a time in my research, in a season where it truly will be possible to write what I have so long carried in me. But in order to be successful, I must take hold of the crucial time, lest it passes.

'Kairos' has many more meanings too, and it is an integral part of Christian theology as well, the Eternal intersects the temporal at 'kairos' times.

What ever the kind of 'kairos' given to us this coming chronological year, may we not miss even one them!

NOW is the right time!

being yourself

I've been thinking of what people actually mean when they say that with thus-and-so I can/cannot be myself.

What kind of self are talking about?

There is this grumpy Monday morning self that emerges before my cup of morning coffee... and there is the self that is delighted pink just because of some happy thoughts... and there is the sad self and there is the self that keeps on analyzing things...sometimes I really don't want to be myself, because I find myself irritating, maddening, boring and at times pathetic... (but I'm stuck with me, for better or for worse :)

Some selves come out of their hiding only when they feel really safe, and some of the lioness in me only comes out when my kids are attacked, and some selves are very susceptible to weather, sleep and food... At times I feel there's and an entire kingdom within :)

So, maybe what we actually mean is that to be with people who allow you to be all of the above, who allow you to keep on growing, who challenge you and accept you, who are able to see beyond the immediate, forgiving the occasional slip... they are the ones with whom you can be yourself indeed!

I read a phrase that really caught me:

Don't aim at pleasing, but remember that YOU are loved!

that sums it all up: to be myself I need to know that I am loved, and then I can be free to be or not to be... and free to change that which needs changing... and free to look with eyes of mercy on the other selves, be they mine or others...

let mercy triumph over judgement, again!