Bah ha ha ha!

Seriously, someone found my blog today by searching Google for "trouble submitting to authority in the worship team."

That doesn't sound like me at all.

Cheerleader

An interesting post over at Hemant's Friendly Atheist blog.  A woman had a fairly heated opinion of the non-profit that I used to work for, so my friend Mike asked me to poke my head in and share my experience.  I guess I went a little over-board, but I believe in supporting what's working rather than letting the small imperfection (i.e. humanity) of something negate everything.

Check it out and leave a comment if you want.  Hemant's pretty cool.

December up/rooted.city meeting

On Monday, December 17, 12 of us gathered at Wicker Park Grace to drink mulled cider, eat a variety of cookie that involved cinnamon and create a safe space for discussion regarding the use of liturgy (The Lord's Prayer) in these meetings and our unique characteristic of being attractive to agnostics, atheists and folks of other faiths. That last category included Menachem, who identified himself as part of the emerging Judaism movement, which was super-cool to hear about, in my book. We also spent a good portion of time telling the stories of our lives to strengthen the community that we're creating.

It has been awhile since the meeting (almost a month), so this summary will lack a certain immediacy in the retelling. Helen wrote about it in a much more timely fashion here. I haven't read it yet because I didn't want it to color my own report, but Helen's always interesting and reliable in her perspective.

These are the quotes (possibly paraphrased) that I wrote down during the meeting. I think they represent well the flow of the conversation.

"A concatenation of words can't offend. It offends as a symbol." -Steve about the Lord's Prayer
"We're pursuing truth. It shouldn't surprise us that atheists come." -James
"The word truth, I try to stay away from because so many Christians use it to describe absolute belief rather than their experiences." -Helen
"What if we called it the Lord's Poem?" -Lyndi
"Liturgy inevitably draws a line. Why do people recite words together?" -Nanette
"How can we better serve each other and love God? How can we be human together?" -Lyndi
"I want to say, 'Your church would have a really hard time with me,' but I shouldn't because you're [indicating the group] part of your church." -Helen

The major ideas that I got from the conversation were that we all valued the group for creating a space for theological conversation but at the same time, many Christians liked that the conversation could tie together it's loose ends at the end of the meeting with an affirmation that something, probably God, connected us together in a common purpose. The atheists, agnostics, and others present were extremely gracious in their desire not to "take that affirmation away from us" but in retrospect, I personally don't like the divide that creates in the group. I have a real desire for the group to be organic in its purpose, forming naturally around the people that compose it. And the reality is that although up/rooted has some very Christian statements of purpose as it's founding principles, this city branch of it is composed of people that are not necessarily Christian. Doug Pagitt talked at the Midwest Emergent Gathering (audio here) about how the adoption of two Hispanic kids into his family changed the family as well as the lives of the kids. He used this personal anecdote as a metaphor for the emerging church. I think that if we believe in a generous orthodoxy, we must not simply tolerate and make space for those that do not claim Christ as a leader, but embrace them as truly family, changing each other as we meet and are vulnerable in telling our stories, expressing our opinions and asking our questions. (Did you notice how many of the quotes that struck me were questions?)  If we believe that a loving God is at the center and that we're all simply on different paths heading toward the same goal, we should be able to trust that -through our thirst- she'll keep us traveling in the right direction regardless of who we find to travel with on the journey.

So, some suggestion of possible alternatives to reciting the Lord's Prayer at the end of meetings involve:

-acknowledging that not all present necessarily agree but asking their indulgence as the rest of us pray

-ending in some sort of silent, personal prayer

-reciting something else

There were probably others but grad school is really getting in the way of my ability to remember them.  I'm really sorry.  Please add what's missing in any comments to this post.  

We tried the silent prayer and although we didn't discuss it, I was personally dissatisfied with it.  It didn't give quite the sense of "tying up the loose ends" of the discussion, as James said.  I'd love to try the recitation of other words.  Please suggest possible texts (secular and religious) that are more inclusive either in the comments section of this post or in an email to me.  I'll figure out a way to let the group vote on which ones are best once I've received some suggestions.

I am so thankful for the role this up/rooted.city group is playing in my life.  I am itching for our next meeting, which won't be until Monday, January 28 because of the MLK holiday.  We'll be meeting again at Wicker Park Grace, which is located at 1741 N. Western and we'll start at 7:00 with the intent that folks will be able to start heading back home around 9:00.

A Lovely Crafternoon

The highlight of my break from school was the time I had to spend on crafting with music playing in the background and the soft light of the Christmas tree illuminating my work.

It's stunning how much designing my brain did passively once I gave it the space to do so. I paged through beautiful books from the library and let it go from there.

I thought I'd share a couple of my creations with you.

For thirty years, my entire family loved a brown couch that my mother bought. She said it cost her $300 in a $100 market. The extra money was worth its longevity. We all have memories of naps on that couch. It was made of a soft wide-wale corduroy that felt like velvet. I remember waking slowly and rubbing my cheek on it while sucking my thumb, wishing I would never wake because then this tactile delight would end. I broke up with my first "official" boyfriend while sitting on that couch and spent long evenings with my ex-husband there. I sat on it to gaze out the windows into the dark night, trying to pick out the particular headlight shapes and intensities of my friends' cars, waiting for them to pick me up or hoping that they'd stop by spontaneously on nights when they hadn't returned my phone calls and I was home alone.

When I moved away from home, I was given the couch but it did not last past our third move. So, 5 years ago, I stripped it of it's fabric and left it's frame for the garbage men. I washed the fabric and put it into storage, not telling my brothers that I had it but never expecting it would take me so long to actually do something with it. So, this year for Christmas, I surprised the boys with Brown Couch pillows. I had such a visceral reaction to taking the fabric out of the box and running my hands and face over it again. The boys had much the same response, raising their pillows to their cheeks and twisting their hands over them in delight. A very successful gift.



I got to purchase a grommet tool for this project, which was like a little present to myself since I've wanted one for a long time but couldn't justify it before now. I know. Big crafting dork.

As I've mentioned before, my brother Daniel is engaged to a woman whose family is from India. I spent some time while I was crafting watching Monsoon Wedding, which is the story of an Indian wedding in the Punjabi tradition in Delhi, which is Meena's heritage. It is one of the best movies I've seen all year and I highly recommend it. Marigolds were used heavily as symbols of marriage and love in the movie because they hold that position in the Indian culture. While watching, I realized I could make a marigold fairy for Meena's parents, who were hosting mine for brunch the next day.



This is the little girl hanging from my tree. The colors are a little washed out in both pictures. She is made from wire wrapped in embroidery thread. The stocking are light blue and her shoes are red to match her red tunic with yellow buttons. Red and gold are traditional colors for a bride. She has a hand-painted face and an acorn hat. I tried to arrange her limbs in a bangara dance style since I'm trying to learn how to dance that way for the wedding. That was a little less successful. The little fairy's shoulders aren't very pronounced.



The final project I'll share with was just finished in the last day or so. Actually, I still haven't figured out how to hang it yet. This went through several different versions in my head over the course of four weeks. I'm pretty happy with the final result.

The text reads, "curse your sudden but ineveitable betrayal" which is a line from Firefly. It's hand-stamped with new stamps that I also bought myself recently. Don't worry, I'm a dilettante of crafts. I won't fall into that weird world of "stampers." The luchador was purchased on the family trip to the Mexican Museum of Art just before New Year's. The fencing around the yard and the planks that make up the house are painted with water-colors. The roof is tiled in buttons.

I think the piece works on a lot of levels and I'm thinking about re-creating it for gifts with different figures in the house and different phrases, although I think the domestic context for an icon of betrayal is particularly poignant. Especially presented in this whimsical way with over-dramatic pulp dialog.

Lots of fancy talk for arts and crafts. Still, I find so much fulfillment from creating them.

I hope you like them even half as much as I do.

Stuff

When I moved out to the island, I had a party and gave away 2/3 of my stuff to family, friends and ultimately Amvets. It felt like taking off the roller skates and walking so lightly. Plus, it continues to be fun to go to friends' houses to visit my stuff. They use it so much better than I ever did.

Erika gave me a link today that I loved reading over dinner (Woohoo! no TV!) Here's a little piece of it that I read a couple of times.

I think humans constantly scan their environment to build a mental model of what's around them. And the harder a scene is to parse, the less energy you have left for conscious thoughts. A cluttered room is literally exhausting.

How much better did I feel on break from school when I was able to put my room to rights after months of piles and furniture moved in haphazardly?

A lot. It was the first thing I did once I woke up. Sleep is good. Sleep is very good. So I got a lot of it over break.

I wonder if I've drifted away from that roller skate feeling. I wonder what I can do about that?

Read the rest of the essay here. It's worth it.

Girl Power

Technologically helpless total girl no more!

My TV died just before Christmas and even though I sent out a plea to my people looking for an obsolete TV in a corner that had been replaced by a flat screen, I realized that my life was much more peaceful without it. My work was done with music as background noise instead of commercials and sit-coms.

However, the music came from my iTunes and either had to come out of my nasty laptop speakers or I was tethered to the a stool near the tuner.

So, last night, I went to the Mac store on Michigan avenue, saved $30 plus shipping automatically from the price quoted at the online store, got a student discount, paid the young man out in the store rather than waiting in line for a register, was emailed a receipt and took my AirPort Express home immediately. Instead of waiting for one of the men in my life to stop by to set it up for me, I read the directions all by myself and was entirely successful. I am now typing while sitting on my couch, listening to Booker T and the MGs out of my fancy Advent speakers and sub-woofer that I've held on to through so many moves over the years.

For a girl that knows next to nothing about acoustics, I've got a pretty sweet set-up.

And I did it myself.

Now, if one of those men would just stop by to help me move this gigantic TV down to the street.

See, they're still good for something.

Daniel in India

My brother Daniel and his fiance Meena are in India now, visiting her family and shopping for their wedding. He has recently sent an update letter and a couple of the things he has said really intrigue me. One is worth sharing with you.

"There will be poor always." I think somebody famous said that. In India (from my 48 hours of exposure) there appears to be a different mentality of the poor in juxtaposition to the U.S. They are a part of life, as are the wealthy, and they must play their part in this life. There is not the mentality that they should pull themselves up by the bootstraps and make something of themselves, or that god has punished them.

There is something appealing about this mindset. He has found the opposite of what is most objectionable about American attitudes towards poverty. Absolutely, I think it's awful that so many Americans both resourced and under-resourced would agree that poverty is a punishment. And certainly, Daniel is quoting the words of Jesus correctly. I feel a little itchy with this view, though, because it feels a little conflicting with my interpretation of Christ's commandment to love others as myself. I would want to be taught how to pull myself up by my bootstraps. I would not want my place in this life to be one that required charity for survival. It's a difficult tension that I'm not sure how to resolve.

Of course this is just funny:

I have enclosed a few photos (hopefully), the first is of me touching Divinder Mama and Indu auntie's feet. They are my host's as well as my new aunt and uncle. In India you touch the feet as a sign of respect and then you receive a blessing and in some cases money (notice my left hand). I'm in the black so far on this trip because I keep touching everybody's feet, but I think that well is gonna run dry soon.

Lonesome Heart Blues

That's right. Yesterday, we had a total of 20 long-haired friends of Jesus packing a grey-toned micro-bus. Then, when we got home from the field trip, my brother Paul and his new fiance, Kimberly joined us for dinner and BINGO. All 20 of us are sleeping at my mom and dad's house these last two nights. I'm a little exhausted emotionally but this opportunity really only comes around once a year, so it's worth a little crabbiness.


It's the unfortunate irony of life that rewards the people who are closest to me with my crabbiness because they are the only people I feel comfortable being fully myself with.

I have struggled with feeling lonely this break between quarters. I hope I used that word right. When I lived on the island, my friend Elaine, who insisted upon correct grammar, answered my question about how she was by saying she was "lonesome." This brought me up short because of her straight-forward honesty and because I don't normally hear the word "lonesome" outside of country and western songs. So, now I'm always self-conscious about how I use the words out of respect for her. For those of you that are wondering, "lonely" is an adverb and is used to describe verbs and other adjectives mostly. Since I was describing a verb - feeling - I think it's correct. "Lonesome" is an adjective and should only be used to describe nouns. In the sentence, "I am lonesome," where the verb is a verb of being (am, is, was, are, etc.) the word is a predicate nominative and is describing the subject of the sentence which is a noun, and so can't be in the adverb form. Do I have this right? Help me out here people.

Regardless of grammar, I'm feeling incomplete and a little sad looking into the future to think I might always feel this way. I can be content with my crafts, my community and my god and I absolutely believe in letting partners fall into my life naturally rather than hunting them down. But that means that there are periods in my life in which it's just me against the world with occasional help from my friends and family who all have partners of their own.

Now is one of those times. I'm not dating anyone and my single girlfriends live far away or have grown away from me. So, right now, there is no one for whom I am their #1 friend and he or she is my #1 friend. It makes me feel lonely even when surrounded by at least 18 people who absolutely love me. I've watched several movies lately (Stranger Than Fiction, Juno, etc.) that make me feel good but also put into words that there IS someone out there who thinks the "sun shines out my asshole" whether I'm cranky or jubilant and I know that person is worth waiting for. But in these times of feeling incomplete - when I have to push myself into participating with my family because family is the most important thing in a partner-less person's life plus I'm going to be distracted from my empty feelings for half an hour while we play Fox and Geese in the lopsided circle that my cousin Jake created in the snow - in these times, I can't wait to meet that person.

Stranger Than Fiction

I just finished watching Stranger Than Fiction and the world is a much better place. The music over the credits is still playing as I type this.

I have the same feeling that I had watching Amelie.

Clutching the blanket up to my chin with a grin of delight the entire time and laughing out loud even though I'm here by myself.

It feels a little bit like every event of my life up to this point was designed to contribute to my enjoyment of this movie.

I also had the experience that I've only ever had once before, in which I was entrapped by the opening scenes and stayed entranced throughout. The only other movie that I can remember doing that to me was Vatel with Gerard Dépardieu.
(I typed "french actor with big nose" in Google to remind myself of the title of that movie and his name came up as the first entry.)

Thank you to every person who ever told me that I would like this movie and who simultaneously refrained from telling me WHY I would like it. Their very deliberateness in NOT telling me was the convincing factor in my watching it. Your obvious delight at the eventual fulfillment I would experience has been validated.

Milestones

I've been to Jo Ann Fabrics three times today.

I've spent as much money making my Christmas as I would have buying them.

I'm exhausted.

But this shit looks good.

When the glue dries, I'll take some pictures and show you what I've been working on.

I'm sorry that I haven't really caught up with you all on my school break. Break up blues and the therapeutic practice of crafting have taken most of my energy.

I'm feeling good, though. On Thursday night, after 9 hours of creative work at my coffee table in the soft light of the Christmas tree listening to my ever-growing iTunes "Best of Rebecca" playlist, I spent 40 minutes following my yoga DVD before I went to bed.

picture credit
For the first time in my life, I got my heels down to the floor in Adho Mukha Svanasana (downward dog).

Pause for applause.

Thank you.

I had brain surgery; be patient with me

Seriously.

You have to check this out.

This woman had brain surgery and made a gorgeous piece of art out of the experience. It's totally worth taking the time to look at the piece and to read her story.

Apple for the teacher

Listening to the radio today, I heard the best suggestion that I've heard since someone told me that marshmallow fluff tasted good with peanut butter.

If you have a school-aged child, instead of giving his or her teacher some cheap-o spa kit from Walgreens or some stinky candle, write a letter of appreciation.

I would add, be specific. If you particularly like that your child's teacher does experiential learning instead of lots of worksheets, say so and cite a particular lesson that your child came home talking about.

My own experience as a teacher has some really ugly moments with parents. Several times I had to respond to parents who wanted to know why their child wasn't getting an A in an Honors class that the parent had waived the child into over her other teacher's objections. "But she works so hard!" I was called into my department chair's office to explain something that a parent had gone over my head to my boss about. 7 times out of 8, it was regarding something that never happened but the parent never thought to doubt their darling child's interpretation. Occasionally, parents would call the principal directly. Have these people never heard of a chain of command? They had to go directly to the big boss without letting me explain myself first? Every evaluation that has every been written about me describes my methods as exemplary and uses phrases like -I swear to God - "We are lucky to have a teacher like Rebecca."

My mother is currently embroiled in strife because the parents of 2 or 3 students have nothing better to do than call the superintendent of the district because they think that 4 movies in a semester of 7th grade social studies is too many. Really? My mom has a bachelors degree in Education, a masters degree in Teaching and Learning and over 30 hours of post-graduate classes in Education. She's raised 4 children and taught junior high for over 10 years. But these parents feel qualified to judge her pedagogical methods as bad? To the person who runs the entire district? Without ever asking her why she felt like those videos were appropriate in the first place?

I taught 150 kids a year. My mother has around 100 kids. That means that 95% or more of parents are at least indifferent to the way we teach. I bet a fair number more than 5% actually like us as teachers. How much better would we feel if that 5% made as much effort as the 5% that don't like us to tell both us and our bosses that their children's lives are better for spending 50 minutes a day in our class.

If you don't have school-aged children, mention this idea to those friends of yours who do. It will make Christmas a more beautiful time for a whole lot of people.

A Worthy Profession

So, I'm done with finals. So far, I've gotten a 91% on my Microeconomics exam and a 89% on my Statistics exam. That's before the curve, people.

I'll pause for the cheering to die down.

Props go to my friends, who argue amongst themselves while I wander around the apartment like some kind of caged animal, listening to them and gaining understanding.

I'm an auditory learner.

So, anyway, while we were studying at Jennie's house, we all distracted ourselves playing with her new kitten by shining a laser pointer in front of it and then moving the laser pointer around so the kitten would stalk and pounce on it. Zissou never caught on that the little red pinpoint couldn't be caught (although he did refrain from the pounce when the light fell on the much larger adult cat, Sherman) and we never lost interest in the game, either.

The evening after our last final, Jennie had left Mike's apartment to take the bus up to her house to pick up her luggage, get on the train and fly out to Hawaii. She called me when she stopped in the middle leg of the journey to tell me the following story:

She was sitting on the bus watching two young teenagers who were sitting on benches facing one another. They were friends but one of them had some sort of hand-held game that he was focused on. The other one amused himself by shining a laser pointer all over the gamer without the gamer ever noticing. Apparently, this cracked his shit up. It also cracked Jennie's shit up. She could barely get her description of his obvious delight that his friend never noticed being painted with red light. I loved the story and in an attempt to elongate the joy of hearing the story and knowing a little bit about teenagers, I asked, "And did this go on for like 10 minutes?"

"Twenty! All the way home!"

Perfect.

Jennie knew I'd love this story because earlier that morning, I had told her my own public transportation story. While riding the train downtown to get to our study session, I stood facing a woman in her early twenties sitting on the bench facing the aisle. In the bench behind hers facing forward was a man in his early twenties. He seemed particularly perky for 7:30 in the morning. Pleased with himself, even. As the trip progressed, in was clear that they knew each other. She would lean into him and whisper something. His energetic response would elicit eye rolls yet she continued to lean into him. It became clear that staying over at her house and riding into the Loop on the El together was a new thing that pleased him to no end. Nothing else would explain his total lack of sullenness. As we neared my stop, he caught my eye. Keeping my headphones one, I smiled and looked. He was holding her hand and playing with her verylong nails that had a variety of designs painted all over them. He pointed to one of her nails and when I looked at it, the word, "Steve" was written on it in yellow paint. He then pointed at himself with a giant look of enthusiasm on his face, mouthing the words in an exaggerated way, "That's me!" He then pumped his fists in triumph.

I looked him in the eyes, laughed heartily and got off the train. He laughed more and she rolled her eyes in such a way that belied her own delight at getting to spend time with him.

As Jennie was getting off the bus, the kid accidentally hit her with the laser pointer and apologized profusely. She smiled and said, "Do you do this all day to your teachers?"

"Yeah."

I'm not sure why I left teaching in order to end up going back to school.

Regardless, my test seem to indicate that the effort has been worth it.

When I Grow Up

In 25 minutes I will take my first final exam as a Master's cadidate at the University of Chicago.

What!?! Why are you on Blogger? Shouldn't you be studying?

Possibly.

But I can't stuff any more in and it's an open book test about statistics so there is no possibility for blanking.

Plus, the atmosphere around here is a little caustic so looking busy avoids other people's nerves and the resultant lack of social grace, my own included.

Yesterday, I met with the Director of Career Services about my future. It was a helpful meeting and by far, the best news to come out of it was that I have now been in the working world long enough to merit a 2-page resume.

Thank the good Lord.

Bullet points, here I come. (Those of you who are regular readers might guess that with space constraints, it's possible that my resume is currently full of grammatical correct but slightly long sentences to take advantage of the white space on the right side of the page.)

Woohoo!

Postsecret

Frank has done a nice job of creating a fad amongst Postsecret participants. In conjunction with the release of the new book, A Lifetime of Secrets, he has told several stories about people leaving their secrets in books at the store or finding secrets in the books they buy. I have been very taken with the idea and have been meaning to buy a copy because I am somewhat smitten with the humanity involved in reading the secrets of others.

For those of you not yet in the know, Postsecret was created by Frank as an art project in which people send postcards of their own design, telling a secret that they can't tell anyone else. Every week he posts about 20 of them. This is my favorite from this last week.Check out a new set every Sunday at www.postsecret.blogspot.com

Although I have toyed with creating postcards for a couple of my secrets, yesterday I felt the internal need to create one for an entirely new secret that I didn't even know I had. My execution was fairly artless and definitely phrased in a chunky clunky way. I think my utter lack of an attempt to make it attractive for publication and it's urgency are definitely correlated. I considered sending it in to Frank but instead realized that I had an hour to get to the bookstore before church started in addition to having a gift certificate that my co-workers had given me when I left my job to start grad school.

So, I checked all the books that were in the store for hidden secrets and was disappointed to find none. However, I placed mine in one of the books and took another downstairs to buy it. I am intrigued by the nervous feeling that I had leaving my secret behind for a stranger to find. It really is a secret. I'm embarrassed by it so I don't tell people. And I had the physical feeling of nervous adrenaline pouring into my chest as I left the store.

I wish I could tell you that it is liberating. I wish I could tell you that I've done something so that I'm no longer ashamed of myself, especially because the shame is only just minor enough to keep it a secret. It's only slightly worse than when I used to tell people that I had donated the long hair I cut off when really I had dropped the ponytail while holding it up for the self-timer on the camera, this rendering the donation tangled and unusable.

But I can't. The secret still sits in my chest. I'm glad I put it out there and I'm interested to look at my own reaction to doing so. But that's all it is right now. I'll keep you updated if there's any change, though.