Lent
I feel as if I'm still recovering from the holidays. How is it possible that we are about halfway through the semester, that next week will be spring break, and that Lent begins this week?
The winter drags on and on, colder even than usual, icy and preposterous. It has become almost funny, the process required to get ready in the morning, the penguin-gate and outstretched arms, the holiday lights banging against roofs and handrails in the wind. Too cold to collect and put them away, even now, in early March. In the midst of it all, our back door is frozen shut, our front door not closing all the way, and the two days of thaw in mid-February led to a wet, peeling ceiling. How will we afford the wedding in the wake of these necessary repairs? In the wider world, the Ukraine falls apart at the seams, and politicians gear up for what will be another contentious election season.
I have been trying to figure out how I'll mark Lent in the midst of what will be an extremely busy spring (if spring ever comes). I feel as if I have given up most everything just to keep my head above water at work and with the wedding plans. I am not seeing my family enough, or my friends at all. What else could I possibly give up?
Last night, in a rare evening of quiet and not too much to do, T and I went through our favorite poetry books in search of poems to read at the wedding. It was an ideal night for me. If I could focus just on the ceremony--not on the endless details of the reception--I would be perfectly happy planning our wedding for the rest of my life!
But when S got home from her swimming lesson and it was time for bed, I felt sad, as usual, about how little I'm writing these days.
And that's how I came up with my idea for Lent: write every day. And share it, right away.
It's a crazy idea for someone who is teaching a class right now focused on the importance of revision, the careful process of crafting idea and image into finished piece. But part of what I need to do right now for myself is let go a bit, cradle what is beautiful but unfinished, and to stop feeling so overwhelmed by the prospect of writing and how little time I have to do it that I don't do it at all.
I need to write. It is how I think, feel, learn, make meaning. It is how I connect to everything that is larger than myself. It is how I find compassion, and learn to live it. It is not optional.
This Lent, I will post something short and unfinished and raw and real here, every day. I will add this ritual rather than taking anything away. I will make space by pushing whatever else there is to do aside and doing this instead.
The winter drags on and on, colder even than usual, icy and preposterous. It has become almost funny, the process required to get ready in the morning, the penguin-gate and outstretched arms, the holiday lights banging against roofs and handrails in the wind. Too cold to collect and put them away, even now, in early March. In the midst of it all, our back door is frozen shut, our front door not closing all the way, and the two days of thaw in mid-February led to a wet, peeling ceiling. How will we afford the wedding in the wake of these necessary repairs? In the wider world, the Ukraine falls apart at the seams, and politicians gear up for what will be another contentious election season.
I have been trying to figure out how I'll mark Lent in the midst of what will be an extremely busy spring (if spring ever comes). I feel as if I have given up most everything just to keep my head above water at work and with the wedding plans. I am not seeing my family enough, or my friends at all. What else could I possibly give up?
Last night, in a rare evening of quiet and not too much to do, T and I went through our favorite poetry books in search of poems to read at the wedding. It was an ideal night for me. If I could focus just on the ceremony--not on the endless details of the reception--I would be perfectly happy planning our wedding for the rest of my life!
But when S got home from her swimming lesson and it was time for bed, I felt sad, as usual, about how little I'm writing these days.
And that's how I came up with my idea for Lent: write every day. And share it, right away.
It's a crazy idea for someone who is teaching a class right now focused on the importance of revision, the careful process of crafting idea and image into finished piece. But part of what I need to do right now for myself is let go a bit, cradle what is beautiful but unfinished, and to stop feeling so overwhelmed by the prospect of writing and how little time I have to do it that I don't do it at all.
I need to write. It is how I think, feel, learn, make meaning. It is how I connect to everything that is larger than myself. It is how I find compassion, and learn to live it. It is not optional.
This Lent, I will post something short and unfinished and raw and real here, every day. I will add this ritual rather than taking anything away. I will make space by pushing whatever else there is to do aside and doing this instead.
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