"I would rather live my life as if there is a God, and die to find out there isn't, than live my life as if there isn't, and die to find out there is." - Albert Camus
In Rome I once had a discussion with several classmates about whether it's possible for the full moon to cast a shadow. It is. Tonight I ran by the light of the moon. It was comforting. And peaceful. And agonizingly haunting. Or maybe that was Jason Walker's song "Down." Either way, before the end of the run, I was crying too hard to keep going. I know it's weird, but sometimes beauty makes me hurt. It hurts in a spot deep, deep inside my chest. The spot between my heart and my stomach. And I don't know what to do with it other than just let that pocket of hurt seep up to my eyes and out through hot tears.
Do my actions make sense to you, Jesus? Because I don't always understand them. Sometimes that scares me - if I don't get me, who possibly can? But I think I would be reassured if I knew you understand - that you can relate. Do beautiful things every make you hurt?
I like verbs. I like actions. I like processes. I like the word “delight.” It means, “to have great pleasure; take pleasure.”
I decided a couple weeks ago to focus on the fact that I was feeling discontent with my life (in general – I know, how’s that for a generalized over exaggeration? Can you imagine someone calling me dramatic?!) by trying to evaluate what DOES bring me contentment. I’m on a mission to figure out what delights me.
This is what I’ve discovered:
Holding small children is delightful. Actually, holding people in general is delightful, whether it’s my friend Kindra’s newest baby (Ethne Tanzen Raye – pictured above), or my friend Mikinzi by default from squishing into the most comfortable chair in her parents’ living room to catch up and chat, or hugging my grandparents or small cousins or big-burly guy friends. Physical touch is definitely delightful.
Writing is also delightful. I’ve served up a new challenge for myself, to keep better track of some of my thoughts in regards to my spiritual journey this year. Every day I plan to write one Microsoft Word page (no more – I’m limiting it to a page) and keep it in a file on my computer. When I get the chance, I copy and paste the writings onto a secondary blog I set up for this purpose (click the link to the right titled, “a spiritual safari” if you’re interested in perusing them). Perhaps, because I like writing so much, I’ll pursue it as a career.
One of my favorite and most delightful pastimes is reading. I love reading. I love being able to direct my own learning through reading. I have read SO MUCH in the past 8 ½ months since I graduated. I love variety – although I’m not too much in the mood for fiction – and I love having a multitude of books going at once that I can skip around between.
Coffee shop conversations or comfy-couch conversations bring me great delight. There’s something wonderful about one-on-one talks. I love them. Sometimes I feel like I live for them! That give and take, the dance of words that happens in the air between two people conversing, it brings an energy and calmness simultaneously to my soul. Likewise, I enjoy having small group conversations that also contain the give and take dance, but I think it’s more and more difficult to maintain the intimacy the larger the group (well, obviously!). While I appreciate a houseful of people and the crazy chaos that seems to ensue, I find small conversations to be what brings my heart true delight.
Along with these things I’ve realized delight me, I’ve discovered the following that don’t: isolated electronic communication (emails, texts, skype, even phone calls sometimes). Don’t get me wrong, they’re great while they happen, they’re just so disappointing when they’re done, because they’ve lacked something vital to make the conversation truly delightful for me. I find myself feeling discontent at their conclusion, rather than fulfilled and satisfied.
Which is why I deactivated my facebook account. Have you ever realized how much “buzz” happens on facebook? You know what I mean, like the noise that is in a cafeteria or a stadium or a theatre prior to the show starting? Everyone is having this little, intimate conversations – or maybe they’re larger and not so intimate, whatever – and information is being exchanged and words and news and facts and lies are floating in the air all around you, and it seems to surround you and almost engulf you, but you’re not truly a part of it. You’re only a part of the little conversations you’re having with the people you’re with, or you’re isolated and thus separate and distant from the buzz itself.
I don’t like that buzz. Or rather, I don’t like having to hear the buzz (or in facebook’s case, see the buzz) but not properly belong to it.
With all the posting I do about love, this post might be a little shocking to some of you. If you have a heart condition, please, sit down. I don't want to be the cause of any permanent damage to anyone. Or at least not to any of you readers.
I was mad today. I don't often get mad. Sometimes I get irritated, or annoyed, but I'd say it's pretty rare I get mad. I did last summer. That's about the last time I can remember. I think I was more mad then than I was today, but today was definitely registering on the low end of the "mad" scale, or the very, very high end of the "frustrated/irritated scale."
I hate being treated like a piece of walking meat. Or, more specifically, like a bunch of sexual parts walking around in public.
Sometimes, I'll admit, I've used it to my advantage. At least, using my femininity to my advantage... I'm not sure that's the same thing. Places like Morocco and Egypt and even fairly macho Spain and Italy, it really is convenient to, you know, play up the "woman" card a bit.
Like a typical hypocrite, I guess I only like to use my gender on my own terms. In the classroom, when I'm trying to teach a lesson, I despise being talked to and talked about like a prostitute.
I find it exeedingly frustrating to be a teacher to young adult men in a 22-year-old body sometimes. Because they don't see the teacher, they just see the body. If they stick around long enough, eventually any student that has given me problems has come around to recognize that I'm a teacher IN my body. But that in-between time is pretty taxing.
I'm being taxed right now.
I understand that men are more sexually oriented than women. I've defended men and would gladly do it again and again - being sexually oriented doesn't make men perverts by default, it makes them men. They're different than women. I'm not a man, so I doubt I understand how this plays out specifically, but then again, men aren't women, so I doubt they understand how it plays out specifically either. We can't necessarily understand the hows per se, but we can understand that there is a difference and accept and value that. I think what's the most frustrating about what happened in my classroom this afternoon, though, is that I feel like I have no control over it. Usually, when men act inappropriately, they aren't people I have to work with on a daily basis. I can just structure my life to avoid them.
And, although yes, I do still have freedoms and options as to how my students will treat me in the classroom, I can't really do anything to change this young man's view of not only me, but all women. If I kick him out of my class, he can still make crude comments about my body. If I somehow get him to shut up in class, he can still think it or talk about me later.
I have no ability to change his perspective of women. To him, women are just objects - just a collection of body parts for his own selfish use - and I hate that. I hate how I'm being devalued in his mind, I hate how the other women in my classroom and in my town and in my world are being devalued in his mind, and I hate that his mind has been so twisted that he thinks it's OK.
I was sitting at a stop light fuming a little bit after I left the classroom and I was thinking about how I know I am called to love as Jesus loves, but I don't want to right now. I know I am commanded to turn the other cheek and treat him honorably and with value and respect, but I don't want to right now. I just want to hate him, hate his mind, and hate the whole situation.
And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit me that Jesus has walked in my shoes. Jesus was misunderstood, devalued, mistreated, had judgement passed on him, and used by the very people he came to serve. I'm not setting myself up with a complete messiah complex, but it was SUCH a needed reminder. It doesn't really matter whether I'm justified to feel the way I do or not, Jesus was justified to hate the world. But he didn't. He loved instead. He loved me instead. Wow.
Jesus, help me love him. You saw his sin, you saw how he's acted and treated women, and you still humbled yourself and laid down your life for him, just like you did for me. I don't think I can love him on my own, but with your help, I know it's possible... So please, step in and do some work in my heart here. And thank you, my Love, for doing the same for me when I was in his place.
I have no picture for this blog because I can't find an image that properly sums up what I want to portray. Thus, you'll have to use your imagination...
February 15, 2010
Phil Wickham’s song “Eden” has captured my attention since the first time I heard the 30 second clip on iTunes. I might have written about it before, but I’m willing to rest on it another day. My favorite lines state:
“I wanna see you face to face Where being in your arms is the permanent state I want it like it was back then I wanna be in Eden. To be naked and unashamed In a sweet downpour of innocent rain I want it like it was back then I wanna be in Eden
Where my eyes can see the colors of glory My hands can reach the heavens before me Oh my God, I wanna be there with you! Where our hearts will beat with joy together And love will reign forever and ever Oh my God, I wanna be there with you…”
At the suggestion of my friend Nate and my African Dad, I subscribed to Timothy Keller’s podcasts. He’s a pastor at Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City.
Yesterday while I was doing yoga I listened to a sermon on Love and how we as humans long for it, and we usually try to fill it with all the wrong things.
This morning while I was eating breakfast and cleaning my present home I listened to a sermon titled, “The Longing for Home.” The thesis of his sermon was that humans are exiled from their real home, and until we grasp that concept, we will always find ourselves discontented. We’ll always be looking for “home” without any real success.
He stated something while I was sweeping under the dining room table that was quite impacting; he said, “Maybe you dream of having a great family or a beautiful home, but neither will be truly satisfying. Neither will really, truly be home. They’ll rot. The house will rot, the people will die and become fertilizer. You long for a love that will last – it’s the deepest longing of the human heart – and neither will get you that.”
His words cause me stop and rest my chin on the top of the broom handle for a moment. I think I knew that, in my head, but it’s easy for me to get distracted with that goal and idealism sometimes.
I’m currently house sitting for my cousin Mel, who is in Haiti doing humanitarian work. For two weeks or so, I have the run of his three bed, two bath condo. I love his house. It’s painted in warm tones, with cream walls and chocolate brown accent walls and has a fabulously vaulted ceiling where the sun’s early morning light comes in huge windows. His kitchen (usually my favorite room in a house) has granite tile countertops and a dark, dark wood floor. His living room is adjacent to the kitchen and the dining room and has an amazingly comfortable couch and a thick, shag rug. There’s an island (one of my favorite features in kitchens) with chairs, so people can sit on the tall chairs and chat while someone is utilizing the kitchen facilities to make delicious food…
I mention all of this, because I want a house with some of these features someday. I want a kitchen that is put to good use to make nutritious, wholesome, tasty food for people I love. I want people to LIVE in my house – I want it to be a place of community and gathering and sharing and living. I want comfortable couches for wrestling with little boys and tickling little girls and reading stories out loud, under a pile of blankets late into the night, and cuddling with toddlers as they wake up from naps. I want to be able to have a pile of books and my Bible flopped open as I read four or five simultaneously, and then stop to fold myself into the corner to journal and pour out my heart to Jesus as he convicts me of wrongful attitudes and actions and motives.
“Home,” for me, is exactly what Keller claims we’re longing for: a place saturated with love, and knowing that that love will endure.
And he’s also right in his assertion that “home,” like I long for it, will never materialize to the extent that I want it to here on earth.
Phil Wickham hits the nail on the head as he compares his longings for “Eden,” because that is, essentially, what I realize I am longing for as I analyze my desire for “home.” Eden was someplace where love was the greatest component, an eternal, no breaks-no fissures kind of love. Deception, lying, selfishness, separation: they didn’t exist. Everything that we – as humans – needed to survive was right there: food, water, and a beautifully nurturing environment, of course, but also spiritual unity and purpose, emotional connection, and community that was wholly satisfying and good.
That’s what I want.
All of this could be incredibly depressing, of course, because it is impossible to have this right now, here on earth, isn’t it? Or is it? Granted, I can never create heaven (or recreate Eden) here on earth with my own works and efforts… but Keller points out that what we long for is something that we don’t currently have, but we will someday have. If God created us to find satisfaction in these things, and yet we’ve lost the ability to access them through our sin, surely he will provide that complete satisfaction someday, right? Surely this is part of the application of “delighting yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart”?
Keller claims we can “visit” our future home (dwelling with Jesus) through prayer, so that we can make renovations on that future home now, while we live in this present condition.
I like that idea, because I like the idea of delayed gratification. Even if I can’t have it now, if I can work toward it now, knowing it’ll be better for it down the road, I can find contentment in that process.
Ross Copperman sings a few lines I’m quite fond of these days:
“When I start thinking about forever That’s when I start thinking about you. I can’t picture one day of my life without Oh, you know it’s true, Because I can’t stop loving you.”
Although it’s a (human focused) love song, from the first time I heard it, I’ve mentally imagined heaven. The only thing permanent in my life right now is the fact that God loves me and I love Him. That’s it. That isn’t to say people aren’t a permanent part of my life, it’s just to acknowledge that life and situations change – my parents will die eventually, my siblings will get focused on their own lives and families, someday my husband might be killed in a freak car accident, my kids might move away to far off regions of the world, and friends come and go… It’s just my perspective of reality, I guess.
But God? God is permanent. I will never, ever, for the rest of my life, have to be any further away from Him than I am today. I will never, ever, for the rest of my life, have to know him any less than I know him now. I will never, EVER, for the REST of my LIFE need to face any situation or any fear or any anxiety or any decision without Him right beside me, walking with me through the whole process.
I think it was Martin Luther that defined the human’s purpose as, “Knowing God and enjoying Him forever.”
This fact is hugely comforting tonight! I’ve been haunted lately by fears. As I’ve tried to stare these fears in the face and figure out what it at the root of waking me up in a cold sweat multiple times a night, or what is looming ominously over the nightmares that make me put off sleep as long as possible, I’ve realized I have a fear of abandonment. I’m scared of letting my heart love and experiencing being loved in return, and then having that tie, that connection cut off. Lost. Abandoned.
I’m logical enough to realize I live in the real world. It is not a matter of if I am ever abandoned, it’s a matter of when that happens… again. We experience little abandonments all our lives, and I think, for the most part, we come to learn some self-awareness and self-perseverance in the process; we learn where the boundaries of ourselves are when those breaks happen: “Oh, so this is where I stop and where you started. I never knew where that line was until you were removed from the picture.” We also learn that pain is an inevitable part of life and how to better handle it and deal with it and allow it to produce good things in us as we accept it and move on.
But I suppose my heart is still in that developmental process. It’s still a bit soft and moldable and impressionable. And I think I’m glad it is, because I’ve seen where people take the opportunity of lessons for self-awareness and self-perseverance too far – they become disconnected and removed from not only the situation of pain, but also from all potentially painful situations.
I do not want to do that.
As I go through abandoning experiences –whether today or this month or this year or this decade or this century – I want them to direct me straight to the One who is going to be a part of my life – and thus, a part of ME – forever. Because as long as I continue to cling to people or situations with my fearful clutches that stem from fearing abandonment, I fail to be able to enjoy and treasure them as they are supposed to be enjoyed and treasured… Which really means I’m failing to enjoy and treasure God as I should. As I can. God puts things in my life to bless me, but I’m abusing the blessing if I’m stupidly clutching them incorrectly because that means they don’t have the freedom to live out what they’re supposed to be living out.
Another line from the song states, “Now isn’t that just like you, you turn the grey to gold” and, in my categorization of this song with my perspective on God, it is very, very true. I know I’ve experienced enough of living my life on my own terms to realize that God is the one that puts the shine in my life, the colors into my world. And he always will. Which is why I love him. And I always will. Forever.
PS: 12 hours after originally writing this blog I listened to one of Tim Keller’s sermons from his series in Genesis titled, “The Struggle for Love.” Spot on. Go get it and listen to it!
I received this note from my Mom this weekend - complete with the picture above on the exterior of the card:
Feb 14, 2010
Dear Danielle,
This seems to be the season I associate with you - perhaps because you were about 2 weeks old when the holiday came around after your birth - perhaps because you'd make long lists of all the people you wanted to send Valentine cards to - perhaps because so much of your creative nature exudes LOVE!
It has been our privilege to have you in our home - what a special gift from God you have been!!
We love you and are excited about all God has for your future.
Love, Mom and Dad
I'm a words of affirmation kind of girl, and my favorite kinds are the handwritten ones on notes that come on real paper (all the better if they're inside an envelope). Seriously, I hope (if I ever get married) my husband takes note of this little quirk about me, because I LOVE real letters! (And I know my friend Laura H. agrees...)
Sometimes my parents (well, OK, my Mom), knows just waht to say to bring a smile to my face, warmth to my heart, and the realization that I am blessed to be loved by the family and friends in my life.
I hope you, dear reader, get to experience this kind of love often - not just at Valentine's day - and that you are especially reminded of the special place you hold in so many people's hearts this week.
In honor of the One who loves me and loves you unconditionally, all the time, without fail, happy Valentine's day to you!
I need to create a 25-30 page collection of writing for the application to one of the Master's programs I want to apply to. This might mean this blog gets more posts than ever before because the best way for me to practice writing is to... just write!
I'm about to dump a couple recent compositions from my "Thoughts" folder onto this site, two of which are organized under "Music Moves Me," a new collection I'm starting about how particular songs coincide with other elements in my life. I probably won't be posting all of them, because I want to use them a bit as my journal/diary for awhile, but some might periodically be showing up on here.
Sorry if they're too long for your reading pleasure - I'll try to keep some posts shorter for you (one or two!) curious browsers. Don't feel obligated to wade through the long ones. As always, writing and publishing to this blog is as much about what I get out of it - the process of crafting thoughts into words into sentences into paragraphs into complete posts and knowing it's going onto some form of public position - as what you get out of it. Even if all you readers disappeared, I'd still write (and only a small part of that reason is because I don't actually know who all reads this, and thus wouldn't know if you all went away!).
I think God must have made breasts, in part, for the convenience of little boys.
I babysat last night. My cousin called me earlier in the week wanting to know if I could watch Eli and Noah while she and Justin went on a date. I said, "Of COURSE! I'm not doing anything anyhow, but if was, I'd probably cancel just so I can hang with your kids!" Then my friend Kindra had her 4th child this week, and the older three have been at their grandmother's all week and I think Grandma was getting pretty exhausted. When I stopped by the hospital on Thursday to meet baby Ethne, I offered to have the kids come spend the night with me on Friday night, since I'm housesitting in town.
So I got to play "Mom" or "Aunti Dani" or whatever you want to call it. Dinner and clean up and trips to the toilet to pee and poop and whiping 2 year old bottoms and shooting nerf guns and kissing owies and transformation to PJ land and pillow fights and stories and all kinds of good conversations.
And I discovered that breasts are very convenient for little boys. One of the kids - Avery (2 years) was just waking up from a nap when he got to my house. He wasn't in the mood to be thrust into the mix of other crazy kids, so he sat on my lap on the corner of the couch with his hot wheel car. Let's just say that the natural, built-in pillows on women's bodies come in handy not only for little towheads to rest on, but also for practicing the art of hot wheel driving on great mountain passes.
I'm sitting in my office. There is a tree outside my window. Occassionally there are students out there too. But mostly just cars pass on the street off yonder, and the wind blows the "do not cross" tape that is fencing off a garden of some sort. It looks rather bleak and grey - although I am THANKFUL that the pavement is dry! - but if I look closely, there are little buds on the tree. I think Spring might be coming after all.
This winter already feels long. Yesterday marked the "halfway through the quarter" mark. I swear, each week is longer than the previous one. I stopped at a green light today. My brain is failing to even operate on the lower levels of thinking (knowledge, comprehension, and application - I taught that to my students this week) during my "off" times. Which is pretty much when I'm not in class teaching. I was conferring with another teacher this afternoon - Joe has the coziest office directly across the hall from my present location and I've spent countless hours sitting in his golden-yellow rocking chair talking about literature and poetry and families and God and life over the past 5 years - and I was relaying how difficult it has been for me to sleep this quarter. I think it has something to do with this position of needing to be "on" into the evening and "on" again in the morning; there just isn't time in between to give my body and brain a decent rest.
I don't think general anxiety is helping either. Both last week and this week were tough in the classroom - weeks 5 and 6 usually are - and then I had job application finalization and decisions as well. This weekend I'm going to focus on paperwork - student standards, Masters research and programs, plotting out the remaining half of the quarter, etc. I'm hoping that if I get some of this "to-do" list accomplished that seems to be important (but not urgent and therefore doesn't get done but stressed me out in the process), I'll find the ability to sleep without waking up once or twice an hour from crazy nightmares and ridiculous "what if" scenarios in my half-sleep state.
But I love finding the blessings even in this chaotic season.
My conversation with Joe was one such blessing just moments ago. I love hearing his appreciation for his wife in his voice: "I am so grateful for Marquita, Dani," he said, confirming my recent hypothesis that love and gratitude are intrinsically linked - think about it, when you stop appreciating someone and appreciating what you do for them, you start to stop loving them, both the "feelings" of love and the action... Joe continued: "I really don't know where I would be or what kind of a person I would have become without her." He paused to tilt his head to the right and stroke his plentiful grey beard, "It's none of my damn business and I'm just being nosy, but are there any men in your life?" When I laughed - because it was just so surprising to have that question come from him, usually we talk about teaching methods and books we've read and writing poetry, not such fanciful matters as dating, - he said, "I only ask because I want the people I care about to have what I have. I want them to find satisfaction and fulfillment in a good marriage. Marquita is my best friend. I want you to have that too." That was sweet. And I appreciated being counted among people he feels invested in, to some degree or another.
Another blessing came in the form of a conversation with the director at my offsite campus today, and he was more than encouraging and supportive of my role as a teacher. He also used to teach for this program and understands the complexities of the student demographics. "I'm going to give you advice I didn't take and follow when I was a teacher, Dani," he said. "My advice is to not walk out of this classroom and beat yourself up over what happened. Don't walk out of here thinking, 'I shouldn't have done this and I wish I hadn't done that.' Because it'll sap your energy for doing what you can and should do, and it'll paralyze you from being able to function at your best." I said, "Oh, but I DO, Ron! I mean, sometimes I walk out and I think, 'Wow, that went pretty well, I'm excited about that,' but a lot of the time my brain is running at 47,000 miles per hour as I try to analyze and figure out what progress I'm making with each student and what I did wrong and how to do it differently, etc." He smiled an experienced-wizend smile: "That's part of what makes you good at this job, because you do work hard. But don't let it wear you out until you resent the job."
Oh these little snippets of synthesis and evaluation that occur: dawning moments.
I held a baby that is less than 24 hours in my arms today and thought about the process of growing up that we each undergo. It's not easy, this life thing, but it's a good, blessed process. And it's blessed because even in these seasons of exhaustion and decisions and stress - or maybe especially in these seasons - we're being refined and stretched and grown, whether we can see it or not. But eventually we will see it.
There are buds on the branches of the tree outside my window. A new season is coming.
I've been perusing wedding photographers websites and blogs for my sister this weekend. I literally had nothing externally schedule bound to do (for once!) so I've been able to try to sleep in a bit both yesterday and today and just enjoy quiet and solitude.
Of course, this has probably contributed to the high traffic of postings on this blog, but if you're a reader, you're a glutton for punishment for trying to sort through my recorded thoughts anyhow, so good luck!
As I've perused these wedding sites I can't help but be stunned by the beauty evident in these weddings - from the glowing faces of the brides basking in their husband's love, to the flowers, dress details, smiles of the attendants, etc. Weddings are truly beautiful events.
But it is also sobering to think of the statistical evidence that many of these marriages will end in divorce.
One of the blogs I was looking through had a link to a music video by Barlow Girl called "Beautiful Ending." The chorus reads:
"Tell me, what is our ending? Will it be beautiful? So beautiful? Will my life find me by your side? Your love is beautiful, so beautiful.
At the end of it all I want to be in your arms..."
I also went and saw "The Book of Eli" last night. It was not really a beautiful movie, because it's set in this post-apocalyptic, tragic world, but the ending is beautiful. There are beautiful elements and themes throughout it, which really seem to manifest themselves in the final scenes.
All of these things - the blogsites, the music video, and the movie - have me thinking about MY ending. The weddings show the start of a marriage, but what will the end of that marriage look like? Will it be beautiful in its simple devotion? Will one of the pair get to honor and bless the other by speaking of the love they shared at the others' funeral? Or will it end ugly - over divorce papers and fighting in front of a judge in an industrial courtroom somewhere?
In the movie we see that faithfulness to his task helps Eli end his story beautifully. And granted, it doesn't seem like the most purposeful life while he's living it, but when it all comes together at the end, it's beautiful in its potential to be so monumentally life-changing.
Of course, the song confronts the issue straight on:
"Oh, tragedy has taken so many Love lost cuz they all forgot who you were. And it scares me to think That I would choose My life over you Or my selfish heart Divides me from you It tears us apart.
So tell me, what is our ending?"
To me, it really challenges me to make purposeful decision to have a beautiful ending - whether that's in marriage, in my job, with my time in this location of the country, with my grandparents, and overall, with my life. Like in "The Book of Eli," it might very well be not all that beautiful for the vast majority of the story. It might be full of mundane, seemingly meaningless tasks, or it could be an affront of trial and tragedy and risks and death. But the ending is what I want to live for - I'd rather sacrifice a beautiful moment with the outcome of an ugly ending now, than give up my goal and focus on ending strongly... lovingly... beautifully...
Because the song speaks my heart: "At the end of it all, I want to be in Your arms."
My parents asked me to house sit for the week while they're in Florida visiting my sis and Disneyworld. As a result, I have a quiet house, a friendly mouse, and a fridge full of leftovers I've been assigned the task of eating up. I think I'll fail, but I did notice a tupperware full of leftover angel hair pasta yesterday. I'm not usually a leftover pasta kind of girl - chalk it up to my pasta-snob developing in Rome - but when I walked in the door just now (at 2:22AM) from throwing a bridal shower for my friend Bri and then a spontaneous visit to see my buddies Erik, Nate, and Jared in Vancouver, it sounded good.
As I was twisting my fork into pasta and various seasonings, I was thinking about this guy I met tonight.
My friend Bri is engaged to marry a cool dude named Devin. Devin has a friend from college that is going to be my date at the wedding next month. Devin may appear to be a goofy, friendly, good hearted fellow, but in actuality, I think he's a scheming matchmaker...
My date - we'll call him K -impulsively flew out from the east coast to attend a conference with Bri and Devin here in the NW this weekend. By impulsive, I mean he opened an email Thursday night telling him about the conference, and by Friday noon he was in a seat attending workshops.
I like that kind of guy. He's the sort of guy that would be up for getting up before sunrise to drive to the beach to watch the sun come up. He seems like the sort of guy that would make a grocery store run with me at midnight to buy the supplies for chocolate chip cookies, stay up all night making them with me, and then give them all away the next day. He seems like the sort of guy that would repaint the kitchen on a whim over the weekend or pack the car and pick a destination at large to roadtrip toward. There's something very endearing about impulsive people.
I'm usually not much of a looks kinda person - meaning, I may take notice of an individual if they are attractive, but that doesn't predetermine what I think of them. In my schooling I was always around unconventional peer groups - usually older people with grey hair and glasses and beer bellies or fashion from the 80s. In my work, I have all kinds of people of all ages walk through my classroom doors, and it is my responsibility to do my best to treat them all the same. I think I succeed fairly well at that because I've had years of practice.
But as I think of it, perhaps that is not quite so true. Perhaps, rather than being attracted to attractive people, I find myself pulling away from them a little. Maybe that's why I was never good friends with individuals in my peer group while growing up. I think, if I do that pulling away action, it's probably because I figure they have all the attention they need, and maybe someone else would be better served by my attention.
I'm thinking of all of this because K is an attractive young man. And by attractive, I mean really, really, really good looking.
I met him this afternoon when I went to pick up Bri from the conference and take her to her bridal shower, and even though I'd seen facebook pictures, it really did no justice to K in person.
I've been letting Devin and Bri plot this whole matchmaking thing with slightly detached amusement. I'm certainly open to the possibility of a relationship - marriage and family has always been one of my deepest heart's desires - but I also find myself cynically wondering if it's worth it to invest in developing a strong friendship with a guy (because that's the most important thing for me in determining of I'd be serious about someone). I love my friendships with guys, but they seem to get complicated and messy and my heart gets involved and since it hasn't really worked - the whole friendship-to-dating thing - I'm wondering if it even is possible to make it work. I'm wondering I'm willing to go down that path and try again. Single missions in some rural, far off place in the world sounds more and more attractive!
But now that I've met K, I find myself in two different camps of thought. One says, "Wow, he is really good looking! I wonder if his personality matches his looks? I wonder what Bri and Dev have told him about me? Maybe I should take a risk and put myself out there a little bit." At the same time, the other camp says, "Wow, he's really good looking! He is way out of my league. It's sweet of Dev and Bri to try to match us up, but obviously they're crazy. What could he possibly see and admire in me that he wouldn't be able to get from any one of a 100 or more women?"
I lean more toward the second camp.
I think I think this because I'm a fairly observant person, at least when it comes to people. There are a multitude of attractive people out there, to varying degrees. There are a multitude of attractive people with fairly attractive personalities. I think I fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum - I suppose I don't think I'm unattractive, but I also know I'm not turning heads when I step out into public. I'm average - I'm average height and weight for an American woman. I have average green eyes, average brownish hair, average shoes size, pant size, shirt size, etc. I think my personality is about average too - I'm friendly, but not really a flirt. I have seen a bit of the world, but haven't lived many different places or moved much. I'm naive and innocent about some things, but approach life from an "old soul" perspective, which gives people an impression of maturity and depth.
I don't think there's much about me to attract particularly attractive people.
I have a theory about social interactions; any setting you put a variety of people in, there will be two zones: there is the "target zone," and the "perimeter zone."
The target zone is where the main action at a party seems to occur - it's where the jokesters congregate and feed off each other, it's where the arguers argue loudly, it's where the sports games get re-hashed, and where dynamic, outgoing, good looking people are. I think these people typically see themselves and/or what happens in the "target zone" as the main importance of the party.
The perimeter zone is where the rest of the party happens. It's where books are discussed, information about families and work is shared, women compliment each other's sense of fashion, men sit back and make fun of the loud target zone, etc.
The perimeter is almost always aware of what is happening in the target zone, because they're having to trip over the wrestlers, or feeling obliged to laugh at the jokers or dancers, or are genuninely entertained by the argument or game re-hashing. Don't get me wrong, sometimes the target zone really is enjoyable and fun. But sometimes they aren't. Sometimes they get too carried away with being seen as "entertaining" and it no longer becomes about entertaining their friends but rather about being seen as being entertaining - and that's just annoying.
I do not think the target zone is usually aware of what is happening in the perimeter. Why? Because the target zone is too focused on the target zone.
When you have people who aspire to be in the target zone, they aspire to be in the target zone precicely because they do not want to be in the perimeter zone. They might be a part of the perimeter zone people, but they're WANNABE target zoners, so they don't really care about the perimeter.
Now, I'm willing to offer that sometimes the target zoners don't really care about being in the target zone. Sometimes there are really good looking, funny, attractive people that do not care about being the center of attention. When they first try to break from the target zone, they usually carry the zone with them a little - because the zone is dependant on them to make it look better or be funnier or provide a stronger argument - at which point, they either get sucked back into the target zone, or they successfully step out of it.
I'm not much of a target zone kind of person. I'm not the first person that gets noticed or the one that is missed when I'm not there at social gatherings. I usually feel more comfortable in the kitchen washing dishes and chatting about hobbies or interests or relationships and people than providing amusing entertainment for guests. I don't like to give off the wrong impression - particularly toward the opposite sex - and therefore I generally err on the side of caution toward not giving any impression at all. I don't want to be a flirt or act like a flirt or have the reputation of being a flirt, so I generally don't punch boys, sit on their lap, steal their hats or other forms of clothing, get into heated "manly" arguments with them or challenge them to arm wrestling or football throwing competitions. I like to talk about books or God or foreign cultures - with guys or girls - , but I usually haven't seen the latest American Idol episodes (or any!) or movies or heard the most recent music releases. I don't follow sports of any kind, although I do follow travel deals, and I never eat at fast food of my own accord, so I can't even compare McDonald's fries to Burger King's!
I am, in conclusion, your all-around wall flower. And I'm not a rose or a lily or even a tulip. I'm more like a daisy or a daffodil.
I'm a perimeter zoner. I see my role at a party or event as something of a supporting role. I don't want to be in the limelight because the limelight would probably go to my head and I'd find myself acting like an idiot and compromising my standards in order to keep the attention that is being focused on me. I think, overall, it's better to stay away from that attention. If I never become addicted to it, I don't have to worry about keeping it. I can focus on the other wall flowers - maybe even provide encouragement or attention to someone who desperately craves the target zone, for the purpose of helping them realize the perimeter is an OK place to be. It's actually a good place to be, because it's where real life happens. It's where real conversations occur, real service is performed, real love is demonstrated, and real character is developed.
I'm not a superstar that catches every man's eye on the red carpet. I'm more like the best friend who came to hold the superstar's coat or purse or waterbottle. And I'm a really good best friend, because I love my friends and I love it when people love my friends, so I genuinely love that my friend is getting adored... Because I adore them too!
To avoid sounding too harsh, I do not hate the target zone. I appreciate the fact that, when the conversation in the perimeter zone is reaching natural ebbs and flows or if it gets too intense and personal or if it's having a hard time getting started, then the target zoners are there to smooth over any bumps in the road.
But I guess I'm naturally a bit wary of people who seem like they're automatic target zoners. Because my experience with them is either that they're never completely real with you, or they're only real when they're one on one. In public settings, they're one kind of person, and in private they're another. Almost like different roles or characters or people.
I don't want to be someone that has two different personalities or social interactions, nor do I particularly want to be around someone that is that way. I guess I just admire genuinity (is that a word?), integrity, and realness more than I do amusement and entertainment.
So when I met K this afternoon, rather than falling instantly in love (like I think Devin and Bri were hoping for!), I found myself walking out of the conference with Bri saying, "Wow, he's really good looking!" and I think that might make me a little uncomfortable or sad. Because he is really good looking. And he has a great, fun, enjoyable personality. He's funny and witty and doesn't seem to mind having the spotlight on him. Because of that, I guess I automatically categorize him as a target zoner. Which means he can probably have any beautiful girl he wants (because, shock of all shocks, ALL girls are insecure and of course it would be complimentary to have someone like K be interested in you!). And THAT means I'll be another favor he does for a friend to serve as the friend's friend's date - and we might even have a good time and enjoy each other's company - but I'll be one of many such evenings and such events, and life will just move right along. Because if he is a target zoner, he'd have a very hard time stepping out of the target zone in order to prove to me that he can be himself in all sorts of social situations. And I refuse to compromise my integrity as a person to join him in the target zone and step away from the perimeter - mostly because I'm afraid I'd like it too much and I don't want to like it that much.
See what I mean? Sometimes I wonder if relationships are worth it. And I think this whole blog proves the fact that it's a dangerous thing to indulge in pasta at 2:30 in the morning...
I saw a rose on the ground the other day. It was raining, and the petals were submerged in muddy water. It made me think of song lyrics from my past, "Like a rose trampled on the ground, you took the fall, and thought of me above all."
It was beautiful in its tragedy.
I'm not in the mood to share my own thoughts at the moment - they are rather too personal to divulge to the unknown large or small mass of blogger readers - but these quotes are challenging me, encouraging me, sobering me, and blessing me. Enjoy!
"There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart... pursue those." - Unknown
"Don't walk ahead of me, I may not follow,
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead,
Just walk beside me and be my friend." - Albert Camus
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sail. Explore. Dream. Discover." - Mark Twain
"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within." - James Baldwin
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear." - Ambrose Redmoon
"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step." - Martin Luther King Jr.
"Only those who risk going too far can possibly know how far one can go." - T.S. Eliot
"The saddest words of the tongue or pen
Are the words 'It might have been.'" - unknown
"Tell me whom you love and I will tell you who you are." - Houssaye
"What do you think of when you are idle and can dream?" - unknown
"Yet I still belong to you;
you hold my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
leading me to a glorious destiny.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
I desire you more than anything on earth.
My health may fail and my spirit may grow weak;
but God remains the strength of my heart;
he is mine forever." - Psalm 73:23-26
"Praise the Lord; praise God our savior!
For each day he carries us in his arms." - Pslam 68:19
"There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friend." - John 15:13
In Rome I once had a discussion with several classmates about whether it's possible for the full moon to cast a shadow. It is. Tonight I ran by the light of the moon. It was comforting. And peaceful. And agonizingly haunting. Or maybe that was Jason Walker's song "Down." Either way, before the end of the run, I was crying too hard to keep going. I know it's weird, but sometimes beauty makes me hurt. It hurts in a spot deep, deep inside my chest. The spot between my heart and my stomach. And I don't know what to do with it other than just let that pocket of hurt seep up to my eyes and out through hot tears.
