Waiting . . Patiently

"Patience is a virtue
Find it if you can
Rarely in a woman
And never in a man."

Patience is not one the virtues I'm particularly known for possessing. In fact, I'm not an entirely patient person. I have enough things to do that I prefer to not have to wait for things to happen in my life. Waiting is also something that I am terrible at. To wait implies that I have nothing else to do, and that has not happened in a really long time. I'm usually running off to get something else done and the most waiting I do is for a meal to be done. While the meal is getting that way however, I can usually get a great deal of other things done. So neither this verb or adjective are apt in describing me at all.

Tonight I was discussing relationships with a friend. He tends to be the one who advises me when I think men truly are from Mars and were dropped on earth by some freakish accident that I will never understand. He asked me tonight if there was anyone in my life since he spent so much time advising me about the crazy situations that I seem to get myself into, but the answer was no. I'm at the point where I am unwilling to play the games that most people require or expect at the beginning of a relationship. I'm either past that or I was never really like that at all. I'm not entirely sure which, but I know that I won't play the games that are second nature for most university students. I'm willing to work when I have a relationship. In fact, I expect that being in a committed relationship will be more work than I'm used to, but I won't work to make one happen. I'm not expecting bells or rainbows to start something special, but the knowledge that it's something that two people honestly want. And the determination process needs to be free from the influence of alcohol or well-meaning friends.

In making the decision to not play these games, I am condemning myself to wait, with all of my high standards, as patiently as possible. Some days the waiting is harder than others. I feel like I'm not going any place and that maybe I will end up spending most of my days alone. If loneliness is all the condemnation of a life alone, with high standards and the inability to settle for less, is the worst thing that can happen, I will be alright with that decision. I will wait as patiently as God feels necessary to build my character and help me to develop that virtue of patient (albeit slightly restless) waiting.

Vanity, Thy Name is . . Martha

I'm not usually a vain person. I'm not the one who wakes up early in order to make sure that I can put "full" makeup on, or spend hours in front of the mirror trying to make her hair behave exactly the way it's supposed to. For me, hair is supposed to be the way it looks when it comes out of the shower, and makeup only gets put on for some very rare occasions. Most days the clothes I wear are the first things that come out of my closet that match, even if it is only remotely. Until today, I didn't even have foundation in my possession. There was something compeling me to get some today, and while I know where the feeling came from, I cannot entirely fathom it.

It seems to be that when I have a date, any form of date, even if it is only a date with a friend, I seem to feel the need to find makeup and wear it. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I feel the need to feel beautiful, even though the men I go out with have all seen me without makeup. For some reason, the fact that I'm going out at night seems to bring out the diva in me, the need to be seen and appreciated for how I look when I make an effort. It seems ridiculous, but my vanity is how I look when I try to look good. I know what I look like when I make no effort, and somedays that still can seem good. But tonight, and every night, my vanity is making an appearance.

So as I get ready to out into the darkness to meet up with a dear friend, I know that I will be vain, just for a few hours.

Celebrating the Oscars

Tonight was the first night in my life that I have ever watched the Oscars. Ever. I have never felt that I missed out on anything because sitting at home alone watching the Oscars would have felt pathetic for me, the one who doesn't sit still for very long, but there was a formal party I was invited to. And it was a blast. Shockingly enough, while I was sitting watching everyone get awards for being the best of the best this year, I couldn't help but think that those awards are going to get dusty soon. Soon they will become simply statues sitting on a shelf with some memories of days gone by. We celebrate the "stars" in our lives in such a grand fashion, with shows and shiny trophies, beautiful dresses and terrible speeches, but we neglect those that we see every day. Not the extraordinary, but the extraordinary ordinary.

These are the people that we walk past most days and neglect to tell them how truly fantastic they are. The ones who make our lives run without us realizing it. There's Stan, who cleans the music building for us and always has a smile for all the students that cross his path; The incredible stage hands of Talbot Theatre who allow us to put on the productions that we sometimes seem to take for granted; The friends who are there with a cup of coffee and a hug when the day isn't going quite the way it should; The studio teachers who accept that some weeks we just didn't have enough time to practice; the administration who make sure our lives work the way we want them to, and when that fails, they are the ones who wave the magic wands and make our academic careers better. These are the people who deserve the awards in all of the fancy gowns and star studded places. So while we celebrate the Oscars, make fun of the dresses and tell people to finish talking and get off the stage, try and remember those in you rlife who deserve an award. The ones that don't look for a shiny trophy, but simple thank you. Take the time to give them an Oscar today.

Temptation of Tradition

Many of the university students tend to live in what we would call a contemporary society. The interesting part of that statement is that many of us do not seem to wish to change. We like tradition. We enjoy knowing that somethings will always be the same. When our days are spent with a certain degree of not knowing what will happen, when we aren't always sure if we're going to be able to eat another meal or pay for tutition on time, sometimes the traditions that we cling to are the ones that we need.

When I came to university, I wanted to find a church that was modern, the reflected not only what I was learning and how I was growing, but how I felt in my new life as a university student. A life that had few rules and little structure. It turns out though, that while I seem to crave a life with few restrictions and fewer rules, I want a life with more tradition, more things that I can always count on to be the same.

I found that and more in the chapel that I attend here at Western. I found a level of tradition that I never knew before at my Presbyterian church. I now have communion every Sunday, which is a very different experience for me, and the grandeur of tradition there is sometimes overwhelming. Somehow, at the end of the week, or I suppose the beginning, coming home to the tradition is what I need. I need the tradition in my services just as I seek the tradition in other areas of my life. I need to know that when I go home for Christmas, there will be the constant playing at services on Christmas Eve, Christmas morning will come with mimosas and cinnamon buns and I don't have to move farther than the couch all day. I need to know that my room will still look like a fire trap with books piled in every imaginable place and a few new ones. I need the little bit of nagging that I have to get rid of some of the books from that basement and the cat curling up on my lap and prohibiting my movements for awhile.

The call of the contemporary and changing society seems to become so strong when we are away at university, but the temptation of tradition and the ability to begin to create our own is just that much stronger.

Musical Relationships

There are so many kinds of musical relationships that music students become educated about in the four years we spend in the music faculty. The easiest to define and understand are the relationships we learn about in theory class. Those of us who are able to stay awake. The relationships between keys are so important and they don't change. V is always the dominant of I. III and VI and the important Romantic relationships, while Classical relationships stick closer to the traditional V - I. When the 20th Century comes, the relationships become a little more convuluted and complicated, but still easy to trace when you know the rules. Somedays it's all about the rules.

The relationships in theory are the only ones where the rules apply though. And even when they are supposed to apply, sometimes they don't. There can always be exceptions. But at least there are some rules.

The other relationships that exist in the music faculty seem to exist completely independent of the realm of rules. Those are the relationships between the musicians. One would think that these would be less complicated than they seem, but they really aren't. Mostly instrumentalists stick with instrumentalists, and singers stick with singers, but there are the crossing points in our lives such as opera. This is when singers still look down on us during the show, but all of us seem to be all right with mingling after the shows over a few beers.

The romantic entanglements that we seem to get ourselves into defy logic and rules even more than our friendships. It's always those who have conflicting personalities who seem to end up together. There's the bassoonist who is "on crack" and the serious sax player. That would be the one that defies the most logic. One of the conductors commented on it and was amazed that they actually work so incredibly well together.

Somedays we attempt to date outside of the music faculty and that either works really well, or ends up in a train wreck. Music students need a special brand of partner who is all right with not being the priority during recital, opera or musical season. They have to be able to accept that most days, music comes before everything else for us. We can seem like normal people some days, but when we are in the music faculty, that's where our hearts really lie. And most people can't understand that.

The last kind is musical relationships that all university students receive an education in is the kind that resembles musical chairs. When the music is on, we're all alone, without the support of a chair, but that's ok because those who do have the support of a chair are seen as cheating. When the music stops, we're all supposed to have a chair, or a partner, even if it's just for a little while. Those who are alone are seen as having lost. They don't get to be alone and OK with that. They are supposed to have a chair to sit on for a little while and not have to look for another, even when the chair is uncomfortable and they don't really enjoy being there. Those who don't have a partner look enviously on at those who have found a place to rest, even when they can see that it won't last. It takes the stronger person to be all right with losing, to wait for the great chair that they won't get just until the music starts again, but the one they can curl up in for the rest of their lives. It takes a stronger person to not hear the music that everyone else hears, and not be so afraid when it stops.

Finding a New Level of Comfort

I am usually a comfortable person with myself and my own body. I don't shy away from being touched by other people. As a member of the music faculty, I would be considered cuddly and affectionate by most of the people who know me. It doesn't faze me to have someone come up behind me and wrap their arms around me. However, in the past few weeks, there is something that throws me off a lot and that is the ass-grab. One of my friends (female) is fairly notorious in the faculty for attacking many of us. I didn't think that it would faze me at all. But it does.

For some reason, I am uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable because I'm not expecting when she sneaks up behind me and grabs my butt. I am uncomfortable because no one does that to me. I am uncomfortable with myself and with the lack of control. I like being in control of my own body and my own actions. I'm usually comfortable with my body because I'm in control of what I look like, who touches me and everything about me. To lose part of that control, even a tiny fraction of it, seems to make me uncomfortable.

I want to find that comfort. I want to find a place where I am ok with myself and my body, where I feel as though I have nothing to be ashamed of. Somedays that comfort is hard to find. It's hard to look at the cover of a magazine and think that I am fine the way I look. I'm beginning to realize that the only difference between me and the girls on the cover of the magazine is that I don't have a team of makeup artists, people to do my hair and a computer program that will fix exactly what I don't like about myself. I don't have all that. That doesn't make me ugly or less than perfect. It makes me human. While being human is entirely far from being perfect, I am exactly the way I was created to be. And I can take a different level of comfort in that.

Living With Loneliness

Loneliness is probably one of the most commonly felt emotions and the least expressed. We're taught to be independent individuals and not depend on someone else for our happiness or anything else. This ostracizes the feeling of loneliness and makes it a taboo subject in North American society. Most days loneliness is not accepted or acknowledged, it can be the empty feeling that keeps us up at night hugging our pillows, drives us to seek solace in alcohol, drugs or the arms of strangers. We seek to surround ourselves with people and immerse oursevles in relationships simply to escape the feeling of being alone. The only problem with doing this is that we are never truly able to get rid of the feeling. We still feel alone, but we feel alone in a crowd or alone in a relationship and that is much worse.

Right now is about the time of year when I tend to feel most lonely. Right around the middle of February when couples become the most celebrated group in society. Last year was the worst for me. I was in a relationship, but I can't remember ever feeling more lonely than I did that day. I got lucky because I spent that night out with my birthday twin and we had a great night. Even though I didn't get to spend it with the person I had originally planned to spend it with, it ended up being one of the best Valentine's of my life.

This year I am alone once again, but this year, I'm not really lonely. There are the lonely pangs that hit me every once in awhile and a few nights when I stay awake holding my pillow, but for the most part I'm not lonely. I'm not in a specific relationship, but that doesn't leave me completely alone. I've come to place a higher value on the time that I do get to spend alone, as it has become less and less over the past few months. As I borrow words from one of my favourite songs "I'm alone, but I ain't lonely. For a dreamer night's the only time of day . . ."

Matchmaker, Matchmaker . . .

" . . . make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch. Night after night in the dark I'm alone, so find me a match all my own . . ."

My sister and I used to sing this song for hours, hoping that some far off day in the future, our perfect prince and partner would be dropped on our doorstep. In retrospect, that was a very beautiful, sweet and unbelievably naive view of relationships. Some days I wish I could go back to that. The idea that Prince Charming would just appear and life would be happily ever after. I can't. I've learned that real relationships in the real world take work. Most days there isn't a happily ever after, but there is a together ever after.

A song from later in Fiddler on the Rood sums it up so well. The parents of the girls this story focuses on sing the most beautiful, romantic song. The husband is asking his wife if she loves him after 25 years of an arranged marriage. The wife lists all the things she's done for him over the years, keeping the house, making meals, giving him children, milking the cow and then she asks "If that's not love, what is?" After 25 years of an arranged marriage, they have truly learned to love each other. They haven't had an easy life, but they've had each other through it all. Maybe that's what makes it happily ever after. The knowing that someone will be there at the end of the day for you. It may be easier to find that in an arranged marriage where there is the thought that you don't leave this easily. With divorce rates so high, and people always thinking that there is something better, maybe a matchmaker could make a positive difference.

While I'm not particularly an advocate of arranged marriages, I have to admit the idea of matchmakers is becoming more appealing every day. It can be nice to have friends meddling in your live life because they can see what you can't. Recently a friend of mine was quite excited because I was going to get to meet her brother. The only problem with that was that he left to go back to Calgary today. I really appreciate the sentiment that was behind the enthusiasm, and I did like him, but I can't have another taking a piece of my heart off to another city, province or continent. There are too many pieces across oceans already. The one person who I quite enjoy playing yenta in my life is the resident wise man. He knows me very well and is willing to suggest matches with the men who wander in and out of his office as I am prone to do. The last suggestion he made I would be very interested to follow up on, although I doubt I will ever see him again. Oh well.

I will never object to my friends playing matchmaker in my life, because some days they can see much more clearly than I can. The only request I make of those who choose to meddle in my life and are so determined to make me happy is "bring me no ring, groom me no groom, find me no find, catch me no catch unless he's a matchless match!"

Finding Happiness

In the past two years, I've learned a lot about happiness. Happiness is both a feeling and a state of being. It is possible to feel happy and be desperately unhappy. It is also possible to feel unhappy and be happy. Somedays it's easy to mistake the feeling of happiness for the state of happiness. It's also easy to feel happy when nothing is wrong, but when something shakes that happiness and that feeling fades, the unhappiness resting under the facade threatens to become overwhelming. When under the facade lies the state of happiness, the facade begins to fade and happiness permeates every aspect of your life. When you are happy, it remains very difficult to not be happy.

While so many of us get caught up in the quest for the "holy grail" of happiness, I think we may be missing the one thing that prevents us from finding it. We think that happiness is elusive because we look for it in money, in possessions, in homes and in spouses. We externalize the search for happiness, projecting the souce of happiness onto objects and people around us. We look to others for the answers to our questions and we seek out completion with the life of another. As we seek and quest and follow and strive, we neglect to look to the one place that can grant us happiness. Within ourselves.

It can be easier not to look at ourselves most days. It can be painful or too hard. It's easy to blame others for out lack of happiness, thinking that "If only I was like them, I would be happy," while the reality is, you don't have to go far to find your happiness. You carry it inside wherever you are. The courageous part of the quest for happiness comes from the ability to look inside yourself and acknowledge that you are responsible for your happiness.

It's so much simpler to look to someone else for happiness. I've heard people say "They make me so happy," and the only thing I want to ask is "Were you happy before?" The reality is that it's fantastic to find someone who makes you happy and it's truly special, but if you weren't happy before you met this fantastic person, you won't be happy with them, and you certainly won't be happy without them. To make someone the source of your happiness is dangerous because then your happiness can be taken away. In order to hang onto happiness forever, you must have the courage to give the gift of happiness to yourself.

Claddagh Choice

A few weeks ago I bought a claddagh, an Irish ring that shows a large part of my heritage. My sister had pointed out that a guy was supposed to buy this ring for me, but I lack the patience for a man to stick around in my life long enough for him to buy a ring for me. She also mentioned the direction of the ring means something. I didn't think much of it at the time becuase most of the people I know wouldn't notice something life that. It wasn't until another friend called me on it by asking who held my heart. After startled pause and a reply of "No one," he explained that wearing the ring with the crown facing up on your right hand means that you and your heart have been spoken for. Wearing the crown facing down on your right hand means that you are available.

I'm currently wearing the ring with the crown down, but I need to make a choice. Does not being in a relationship mean that I'm available? And does the fact that I'm not in a specfic relationship mean my heart isn't taken or that in some way I'm not spoken for?

I'm not in a romantic relationship right now and I have to admit I'm quite content with that situation. Just because I'm not in a romantic relationship that requires special celebration on Valentine's Day does not mean I'm not in plenty of loving and fulfilling relationships. So does availability mean the ability to commit to one specific person or the ability to enter into another relationship at all? With all the people and relationships I'm already so attached to, is there enough of my heart available to offer to a partner right now?

When I researched the ring briefly this morning, I found out that the crown should face up if there is even the consideration of a love. I'm not so sure about that. Love is not something to be too highly considered or else you might end up running away from it. It's a terrifying and yet exhilarating prospect at all times. I suppose I am considering relationships all the time. The answer is not usually one that leads to a relationship, but occasionally it is. Not all relationships are capable of claiming my heart either. It takes someone truly special to do that.

At least for the next while, I will leave the ring facing down as my heart has yet to be claimed by any mortal man. If only I could turn the crown sideways to show that on many levels I available, but on so many more I am not. As much as I would love the right relationship to come along, but the man who was created to claim my heart hasn't walked into my life yet.

All Fun and Games . . .

"It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye . . . and then it's a sport."

This saying was introduced to my household by a friend of the family and has served us well for many years. My sister is probably the one who makes use of it the most. Except it's not usually an eye but a limb that is injured.

For the most part, I have to admit that I agree with the saying. It is fun until someone gets hurt. Sometimes it's still fun after that. But applying that to life situations changes things a little.

I'm at the point of my life when I'm ready for the right guy to come along. I would be ready to settle down and not be so fly away. I would love to be able to start creating a life with someone else. The only problem with this is the guys I meet aren't there. They still like playing games. For them, relationships, and life, are still fun and games. There is nothing wrong with that except that the stakes have changed. Instead of breaking a wrist, or losing an eye, it's a heart that gets sacrificed to this game. And once one has been lost, then the sport begins.

It's difficult to stay out of this sport. It's usually the men that are interesting and confident who are willing to play, and those are the only ones who are seen. When women look for a relationship, we always have high hopes like maybe we will be the one to change them. This typically leads to our hearts being the next mark on the score board.

After a few times of our hearts being added to a running tally, it's difficult to believe there are good men in the world who don't play games. The days we can find those, it's hard to believe that we're not being tricked again into just giving up our hearts one more time.

So maybe it is all fun and games. It's fun and games until someone loses a heart . . . and then it changes a life.

The Color Purple

This weekend I got the chance to read the book and watch the movie that were based on "The Color Purple." I sobbed. I was rather expecting to though. I had been warned.

It did not help that the first image of the movie is the two sisters playing hand games in a field. It reminded me so much of my sister and I that I almost started the cry before knowing what the movie was supposed to be about. It's almost like the Renoir painting that never fails to touch a chord deep within me. The two girls sitting at the piano playing together. One is blond and the other is a brunnette. So much like my sister and I.

The story of the Color Purple was so tragic from the very beginning that I couldn't help but be sucked in and made to care. It's a story about real life, real love and real forgiveness. It isn't a book that makes life seem easy or friendships uncomplicated. Nothing is simple in the early 20th century deep south just as nothing is as simple as we want it to be now.

The characters all have their own brand of spunk and one of them, Shug, makes a statement that reached me on a level to remind me of how muchy I don't pay attention to anymore. She says "I think it pisses God off when people don't pay no mind to the color purple." She also has the belief that the people who go to church to find God aren't going to find Him. The only God she ever found in church was the God that she brought in with her. Church isn't a place to find God, but it is a place to share God. I think that is one of the best perceptions of church that I've heard in a long time. So many people come looking for something and then are annoyed when they don't find it. That's not what church is about though. It's a group of people who want to share what they have found, in the world with other people.

Her other observation was that so many people look for the God that they will find in the "white man's" Bible. They think that God is a huge white man with a big beard who sits on a throne and judges us. Shug makes the comment that God doesn't have to be found simply on those terms. He is found in the trees and the flowers and eventually when we can find in Him in all of the places around us is when we are truly able to recognize Him in ourselves and others. There is more than just one word of truth in that. But for me, I think right now I'll remember the color purple, how incredibly beautiful and unique it is and how I need to stop and pay attention to it so that I don't piss God off.

Roots and Wings

I've heard it said that there are two important bequests parent can give their children. One is roots and the other is wings.

This weekend I realized how deep some of our roots can grow without out awareness. I went home with my friend this weekend to help her pack up her room so that her parents can move in a few months. Despite the fact that she does not live there anymore and was not intending to live at home over the next few years, it was still difficult for her to sort through the things and the memories. Although her parents moving does not mean she is losing her roots, they are being transplanted which is difficult.

At this point in my life, I'm finding it very hard to put down definite roots in any place or hard connections to too many people. My life is by no means unsettled, but it's not rooted in too many ways. I have roots in Aurora with my family and I've begun to put down roots at the L'arche communities in both London and Richmondhill. There have been places where I have put down roots and had to pull them up again which can be painful. I've left behind so much of what I had at Glem Mhor Camp for so many years, the attachement I developed to PYPS Toronto-Kinston synod and the shallow roots I placed at Huron College. I'm growing deeper, more mature roots there now, but putting down different roots isn't easier after destroying past attachments. It can be even harder.

It's easy for me to put down roots because I'm a rooted person. I like knowing there are things that won't change, that will always be there. It's harder each day to put down roots to both places and people because most of the people I have met recently are not going to stay in any one place for the next few years. It's difficult to get attached to a house and have to move again because our lease has run out, or develop a great friendship and have the person go away to travel or complete their schooling. As much as I desire to put down deep roots that can't be moved, at this point I'll settle for shallow roots that don't hurt so much to move.

While this is the time when roots are hard to put down and let grow, it's also when our wings begin to strengthen. It's almost like a butterfly trying to get out of its cocoon. University is the first chance I've really had to stretch my wings. And I kind of like it. Somedays it's frightening because my wings are not yet strong enough to support the flights that I want to take, but I'm content in the knowledge that soon they will be. They just need to get some more muscle on them.

It can be more frightening for my wings to be acknowledged than my roots. Roots are less complicated. They are always there and can be used to support you all the time. Wings are more complicated. In order to make your wings grow, sometimes you have to fall. Sometimes you do have to fail at what you try. You have to risk going too far in order to find out how far you can truly go. Some days that's the easiest thing in the world, but other days I can't stand the ensuing bruises when I fall, again, or the hurt when my heart breaks just one more time. I want my wings because the thought is thrilling beyond all belief. To be able to fly on my own would be fantastic. It's when I'm soaring above the trees and seeing the incredible view that I most poignantly feel my roots and come back close to the ground.

Is that a choice we have to make though? Do we have to choose between soaring and settled? I don't think so. Or I guess I hope not. I don't think we were created in order to be forced into one or the other. We can have both because that's what we were created to claim. Both our roots and our wings.