Resonance Space

Those of you who have talked to me in the past few days will have noticed that my voice sounds a little lower than it usually does. This may be because I feel like I have just swallowed sand paper and I have lost half of the resonance space in my head. For those of you who don't really know what that is (because everyone knows what it feels like) it's a musical term that talks about the space we use in our bodies to create the sound we do. The resonance space that I'm missing is the space that is under my eyes and behind my nose. You use this space when you speak and especially when you sing, which is why singers avoid colds like they do.

There is a large amount of resonance space in places in our bodies. Mostly space that we are not aware of until we either try to use, or find that we can't. I tend to forget about the space under my eyes that air passes through to create sound until I can't use it. When I can't use it, it's all that I can think about. I'm very aware that most people won't recognize my voice and I really don't like it. I have lost too much of the resonance space and I want to get it back.

Vocal resonance space is not the only space that we have in ourselves. We have the space to allow what others tell us to resonate. Sometimes the only thing that will resonate with us is criticism. That would describe most days in my life. When someone says something critical, that's what I remember. It doesn't mean that I never get compliments, it just means that they don't resonate with me. They just pass through, like air going into my lungs, but not travelling through my whole body. They don't have any lasting effect, unlike the criticism.

It's strange what we allow to resonate with us and what we push away. Some days we use all of our resonance while speaking, usually in front of a group of people, or singing. Other days we hide our voices, believing our opinions to not be smart enough or our voices not melodious enough. We don't let compliments stay with us because we don't think we deserved them. We will take the criticism though. We will hoard the negative and allow that to block our resonant space until we have no more room for our own voice to be heard. It will eventually become a shadow of what it was meant to be if we don't use it and enjoy it.

When I have my resonant space back, I'm using it. I will sing at the top of my lungs and talk until my throat hurts again. Until then, I will enjoy the space I do have. The space that is conducive to creativity and the part that calls me to be the best that I can be, regardless of the comments that are made to me. I will take back my space and make the most of it.

All Knowing But Not Seeing

I get lucky every once in awhile and get to go out for an afternoon with one of the core members that I live with. He is the most observant person in the house without being able to see anything. His body limits greatly what he is able to do, but his mind his sharp. He knows much more than many of us think he does. I was teasing him about getting old and saying that I was getting old soon. He laughed at me and said that I have a few more years before that happens.

When one of the assistants here was teasing me about my relationship, he asked the core members if they knew who I'm involved with. There was lots of giggling, but no answer until Mike came and stood in the doorway of the living room. With a big smile on his face, he announced the name and then began to laugh. No one else believed him for a few seconds, but then I said "You're right Mike! How did you know?" I have no idea how he knew. I really don't. Without being able to see, he was able to know.

We place a large value on things that we can see. We like concrete knowledge and being able to touch what we can see. There is a problem with this though. We then begin to only believe in the things that we can see or touch. We only believe in the things that we are certain of. Some days, that's fine. It's all right to only trust in the things that we can see, but we can't do that all the time. When all we accept is what we can see, then we miss a lot of life. We miss faith and most of all we miss love.

Love is one of the things in life that you don't really get to see and you can't really touch. You can touch the people who love you, but you are unable to hold onto what they offer to you. You can't hold the love you are given in your hands and when you try to, you find that your hands are empty. The more you try and look for love, the less you will find. When you simply feel what is around you and stop looking for something, especially like love, you still won't be able to see it, but you will know. You will know because you will be able to feel it.

We rely so heavily on the five senses that we have. We really do have five. They are all great and can be important at different times. I know from living with someone who has lost most of his hearing and another who has lost his sight. Neither of them have suffered major loses in the emotion in their lives because of those things. They have learned to expand their lives in different directions because they have lost the directions they are able to use. They have learned more and know more because they are unable to touch the physical world in one way.

It is amazing all that we can learn without seeing, without touching and without hearing. We can learn more with simply being and being open, than we can when we seek something specific. Maybe one day we will be lucky enough to know with seeing. Maybe we will simply be able to trust.

What Women Want

A few weeks ago, over cleaning the kitchen, a house mate told me that he knows what women really want to hear. With arms crossed over my chest and a disbelieving look on my face, I waited for the answer. This is what he said, more or less. "Instead of writing on an online dating form, I love long walks on the beach and romantic dinners, I will write what women really want to hear. I love to cook, clean and vacuum. I think that women should be able to put their feet up at the end of a long day and relax with a glass of wine." By the end of this speech, my jaw was almost on my chest. I was amazed. I don't think I should be that surprised because he is a very smart guy.


I don't know why men think that women are so complicated. We really aren't. We want someone who is there. Romantic walks and candlelit dinners are nice. They really are and most women do enjoy them at some points. I will admit to that. But that's not the most important thing to us. We can deal with being treated like a queen, but that really gets boring after awhile.

At the end of the day, I don't think what women want is really that different from what men want. Or what men don't realize they want. When it comes down to it, we all just really want to be loved. We want to have someone look at us and say that we are accepted and loved just as we are. We will still be loved should we change, and also if we stay the same. We want to be called into relationship and answered in that. When we open ourselves the someone else, we don't to be hurt or belittled for taking that chance.

While my brilliant housemate may have found the answer that all women want to hear on an online dating form, there might be a deeper one. It is not just wanting someone to be there for the best parts of the day, but someone to be there in the worst and care for you through those times. It's the ability to find someone to depend on, be that person a partner, a spouse, a lover or simply a best friend. We need someone who hears the song in our heart and is able to sing it back to us when we have forgotten what is sounds like. We just really want someone who cares.

Click!

I want to say that I am a romantic much of the time. I have been told that I am a hopeless romantic at some points, and others as a cynical romantic. I'm somewhere in between at all points in my life, but mostly closer to the cynical side of things. So it may surprise quite a few people when I can now say that I know what it means to just "click" with someone. Not only have I felt it, but I think I may have heard it.

In the past two months, I have returned to the place that I love more than most other places and have had my heart stolen in so many ways. Despite the fact that I am not staying here for the year, all the places of my life seem to be falling into place with a resounding click! I know what I'm doing next year and I know where I'm going after I finish school. I'm taking a language course next year, which may not surprise some people, which will allow me to travel and live in the country I want to when I am done my degree. All the things in my life that I wasn't looking at, or looking forward to, are coming together in a way that I want them to.

I live with someone who had something similar happen in his life. Everything fell into place for his life to continue in the way that he had planned. And then something changed. He made the decision to walk away from the things that are clicking. Everything clicked in a very different way when he made a different choice. Still good, and I'm glad that he'll be closer for another year.

I don't know if I'll be able to walk away from the clicking in my life. As much as it scares me, I kind of like it. I like the fact that I can see the next few years of my life planned out. I like the fact that for the first time in my life that doesn't terrify me. I don't feel like running away and I don't feel like changing everything.

How many people would change everything when their life is going smoothly? Would you be willing to change your life when it's not exactly what you want? When things are falling into place, would you simply let them be, or would you change them? It's taking a chance to move away from things that click. It's taking a chance to change things that seem to work. I don't know if I'm going to walk away from these things that click. I don't know if I'm going to be swept away from things that can seem to be beyond my control some days, or if I will have the courage to stand up and take back the control of everything.

I'm not going to worry about that right now. I'm just going to enjoy the clicking sounds I keep hearing.

A Perfect Heart

I was thinking about what makes the perfect heart awhile ago. I don't know why I was thinking about a story that I heard on a night radio show a long time ago. There was a young man who was showing off his perfect heart and many people were admiring it. It was a young heart, with no cracks or breaks and no pieces missing. An old man then came up and said that his heart was more perfect. He showed his heart to the people and it had scars and breaks. There were some pieces missing and some pieces that didn't quite fit. The young man looked at the older one and was confused. He wanted to know how a beaten, old broken heart was more perfect than an unbroken one. This is what the old man said. "The scars are from when my heart was broken and it healed. The pieces that don't fit are when someone else gave me a piece of their heart that didn't fit in the piece that I had given them of my heart. The pieces that are missing are when I gave a piece of my heart and one was not returned. I have loved, been loved and lost love. That is what makes my heart perfect." The young man, with tears in his eyes, reached into his heart and gave the old man a piece of his heart. The old man gave a piece of his heart to the younger one. The pieces didn't quite fit. But the two men were happy because both of their hearts became a little bit more perfect.

I wonder how many people are unwilling to take the chance on love because they think it will make their heart less than perfect. As if taking the chance to love and having that love not returned would be failing. Or not filling someone else's heart when you give all that you can give. Perfect love is not the love that is given in the perfect way, without any problems, or a love that is always received. Perfect love is simply the love that is given. It doesn't not has to be received. It just has to be offered.

Many people in the world are scared of saying "I love you" because they don't know what the reaction will be to the words that they say. They don't know if what they offer will be accepted or discarded. They think that what they give will be less than perfect if it is not new, or has been hurt in some ways. The thing in giving love is that it becomes more perfect the more you give away. Even when it is hurt, it is still perfect to give to others.

A perfect heart is not one that remains closed or unbroken. It is not one that has no scars and it is not one that has never been hurt. Perfect love has felt rejection and survives in spite of it. It survives and it keeps giving and loving no matter what. It is a heart that is strong enough to do that that is the perfect heart.

Born to Try

My housemate in London loves an Australian musician who has a fantastic voice. I have one of her Cd's on my computer and I was listening to it tonight. The first song on the CD that I have is called Born to Try. The lyrics from it reminded me a lot of my life right now. Born to try.

Many people will not take chances now. They are too afraid to lose the security they have, the love that they have and the family that they are attached to. They are afraid to seek the path they truly want because they don't want to lose what they have. They are unwilling to give anything up in order to gain the things they want. They are afraid to fulfill their own dreams for fear that it might scare those around them. That's not what we were born for though.

We were not born to be afraid of the potential that we have inside of us. We were not born to be less than what we were created to be. We were born to be incredible. We fall short of our potential all the time though, because we allow fear to stop us from trying. We leave our dreams behind as we grow up because we begin to see them as something that shouldn't matter as much in our lives. Staying in one place gains more importance and the security that that brings. We are fenced in by the love and the relationships that we have created. We learn the rules of the society and allow them to take our dreams.

When we are young, we are taught to dream. We are taught to have goals and find a way to reach them, whatever it takes. As we get older, we find out that we are only allowed to pursue our dreams so long as it doesn't upset our parents, if it doesn't cost too much, if we don't have to work too hard. We can't go after what we want when it doesn't involve a mortgage, a car, and a home. We find it hard to look at those who have followed their dreams, setting up NGO trips to Third World countries or joining the Peace Corps. We find it hard because we can see our unrealized dreams when we look at them. We see all the things that we have allowed to tie us down instead of doing what we wanted to do.

We were born to try. More than that, we were born to fly. We can follow our dreams if that's what we want. If we don't, then we can't let our unrealized dreams get in the way of being happy. We can't live in the past, but we can create our future. If what we want is to try and follow our dreams, then we should. Win, lose or draw, we have to try. If you never try, you can never win. You will never get what you want unless you are willing to give something up for that. Sometimes the cost is too high, sometimes it's not. It's a choice we need to make. And then we need to try.

The Best Singer in the World

Today I went for a long walk with some of the people I live with. There was some singing as we wandered through the woods. I was also given the greatest compliment in a long time. One of the men in the community applies best to everything. Today it was applied to me.

I like my voice. I use it a lot, to talk and especially to sing. I love to sing. I have no idea why. I don't have the most powerful voice in the world, or the highest. I leave those two to be claimed by my best friend. She is an opera singer and everyone loves her voice. My voice will never win vocal competitions and has never had any training. Most of what I sing well is folk and jazz, because they allow my voice to scoop and move around the notes that I like. It also means I can avoid the ones I don't. I'm more likely to sit down and help lead worship than get up on a stage where everyone is looking at me. I wouldn't choose to be the center of attention, but I love to sing. I sing in the shower, with my sister, in the car, when I'm cooking and before I go to sleep.

Today I was singing in the woods. It felt right. Woods are always a place of power for me, which probably comes from being a cottage kid. It was also so nice to simply be able to enjoy the company of those I was with. We sang Disney songs for the most part, the ones I could remember at least, and a few that I didn't really know where I had learned them. There was no microphone, no back up guitar player. There were simply three people surrounded by the woods and I can't remember the last time it felt that good to sing. I don't have the best voice. I am not the most talented, but I was reminded that the woods would be very silent if only the birds that sang the best sang. For that moment, with two people who wanted to be with me, I was the best singer in the world. And it felt fantastic.

The Space Between the Tracks

I love to read. I love to read with a passion that seems to defy what little logic I have in my life. I have recently read three books that have been able to change the way I look at the world. They are all by a Brazilian author, reccomended to me by a friend. They are relatively thin books compared to what I usually read, but I'm so glad I read them. It took longer to read because the language felt like sipping ice wine, so sweet and so intoxicating. It's something you know you have to finish, even when at moments it seems overwhelming.

A character in one of the books asked an interesting question. As he became more aware of the world around him, he wanted to know why all the railroad tracks were 143.5 cm apart. Apparently the answer to this question can be traced back to the Romans. It is the width of two horses side by side when they are pulling chariots. All roads in Europe were constructed with this measurement. Somehow throughout centuries, no one ever sought to question or change this. The measurement was also imported to America and remained the same. No one was willing to changeit because that was just the way it was. The status quo.

I wonder how many aspects of our lives we apply railroad tracks to. How many places we just assume that is the way we are supposed to be and we allow them to continue in the same way. One area I know that is limited in many lives is the expectations for careers and jobs. Many people get to a point in their lives that they think they can't go any farther, or change direction, and should simply be happy with what they have. They either never want to move, or never think themselvesto be capable of it. They have found their railroad tracks and are content to stay there.

The tracks in my life that I have experienced (and know others have) are the ones found in relationships. Perhaps it's easier to have such a specific measurement. Maybe it's simpler to not have such a specific measurement. Maybe it's simpler to not have things change. That way it doesn't hurt when you move farther apart for a time and you don't feel too close when you get closer. The thing about relationships though is that they don't always stay 143.5 cm apart. Sometimes they are farther and sometimes they are closer. But they are always there.

When we attempt to railroad track our relationships, we lose the freesom that love and acceptancebring. We bring our relationships into line with the expectations of others. We conform to something that we don't necessarily believe in. We don't reach for what we want when that's not something that's expected of us in a long term relationship. We are also unwilling to accept the need for or movement towards more distance between those who are involved. We are unable to see the need for movement around the two people in a relationship.

For me, the true sign of a successful relationship is not one that has remained constantly close or always the same. It is the relationship that has remained entwined, in both distance and nearness. It is the ability to accept the movement, even when it is not the most comfortable thing for those involved. It involves letting go and hanging on and knowing when to do both. It is both space and closeness, intimacy and independence. It accepts and loves and supports,especially on the days that that is the hardest thing to do. It steps outside of the railroad tracks and knows that there are more important things. And it's always there.

Wordless Language

Yesterday I read another book by Paulo Coehlo. It was just as good as the other books I have read by him. There are observations and ideas that I have never thought about life, but make perfect sense to me. One of the things that made the most sense was the idea of a universal language. For me, I would call it the wordless language.

Living at L'arche, you can learn a lot about wordless language. There are many people here with the government title of non-verbal, but for me that never seems to fit. It is the people who don't speak using full and complete sentences that teach me more than most of the lecturers I have had at university. The act of sitting and simply being is more profound than most of the conversations that I hold at university. When something is said, it is because there is something to say instead of simply needing to say something.

Silence also shows the true measure of a person. Some cannot stand to be alone with their thoughts in silence because they are tormented by something. They want to run away or distract themselves from what is in their own heads with what is outside of it. They refuse to deal with what they live with on a daily basis and instead deal with what everyone lives with. It takes a secure person the be able to exist in silence, without the need to talk or listen to music. To simply be with their own thoughts and know that they are at peace.

There are times when you can have a complete conversation with a friend simply by sitting on the front porch in silence. You know that you are both at peace and are aware of each other without having to ask for the attention that you crave. It is the ability to simply sit and be in love. That is the true wordless language of the world.

It is sometimes strange to wonder how people from other countries can fall in love so easily when they don't have a common language. The answer to that is that they do. They might not know it, but it exists, waiting to be used in the center of everyone. We all want to be spoken to in this language. We want to hear someone call our name without opening their mouths and answer our hearts when the world seems so dark. We can choose to exist in this language we have chosen, or I suppose that has chosen us, or we can ignore it. When we open our hearts to those around us, we realize that there is more than the languages found in dictionaries. There is a language we don't have to study, but we are constantly growing in. A wordless language. The language of love.

Loss of Connection

I'm currently fighting with the Internet right now. I don't like this. The connection keeps cutting out on me and it's frustrating. I never realized how connected I was to the Internet or how much I can depend on it. I've also never realized how little I care when it's not there. There could be many worse things in my life that I miss. This won't kill me. Williams is also right around the corner.

The other connection I would not mourn the loss of right now is my cell phone. Typically during the year, my cell phone does not leave my hip. Ever. It is always there, keeping me on time and keeping me connected. I'm not sure if I don't like the time right now, or if I simply hate being connected to people when I want to be alone. Or alone with someone. I resent the intrusion of others into the time that I have to myself. There were three separate occasions that my cell phone nearly forcefully met my wall. I think the wall would have won, which was the only thing that stopped me. That, and the fact that I would have been labelled even crazier than I already am. I know it too.

These connections are ones I would not mourn being rid of. I would actually enjoy that more than many other things right now. The connections that we should mourn the loss of is best illustrated by a comic that ran a few weeks ago. There's a beautiful painting in the Sistine Chapel of God reaching down to touch the outstretched hand of man. It shows the deep connection that is felt between the Creator and the created. The comic is more specific for the information generation in which we live. God has His hand outstretched the reach out. Man has his finger pointing up, in a "just wait one second" kind of gesture. His laptop is open on his lap and you can see a cell phone. He is connected in so many ways, but not in the right way. He is missing the connection that will really fulfill him on every level, the one connection that is reaching out to him.

We have a choice about which connections we keep and which ones we throw against the wall. We can cling to our cell phones, Blackberrys, laptops and Internet. We can get so caught up in what we think are the most important things, but still leave us feeling empty. We can cling to acquaintances, the people we see only for holiday parties and think that we have meaningful relationships. We can choose to not answer when someone who needs us calls. The other choice that we can make is to ignore the connections that society wants us to conform to. We can choose to not get a job based on how much it pays and to do something that will completely fulfill us and answer the deepest need in our heart. We can choose to ignore the things that call to us and simply listen to those around us.

Whichever connection we choose, we will lose some of another. We will either lose our connection with the popular world, or we will lose our connection to those around us. I know which connection I would choose to lose. And I think I'm losing it right now . . . .

Returning to High School

I had to pick up my sister at high school today. I really wanted to leave as soon as I got there. There was something about just being there that reminded me of the years I spent there. The feelings of inferiority returned and I experienced all the things I had felt another time. I want to know, when does that stop?

It is strange how simple things can bring back so many feelings. A scent of someone you remember, a song that was playing at a certain moment or returning to a school that you have left behind.

I don't like the feelings that came back to me. I don't like being reminded of all the things I felt while I was in school. After I left, I was able to remember the good memories that I have from the four years I spent there. I was able to remember what it felt like to play a great concert, to have a great class or do really well on a test. I also was able to look back at the things that happened with a critical eye and wonder why I thought some things were so important. Things that were so important then are not now. And the things I thought would never matter to me do. More than that, they determine my life.

In returning to high school, I was able to remember feelings from other things that were not necessarily from that time. The good and the bad. The strangest part about this was my ability to see it as though it was not my life.

I'm reading a book by Paul Coelho right now about obsession and the quest for something. He learns in his quest to let his history go. I feel as though I've gotten to a similar point in my life. I can look at my history with a critical eye and see what was good for me and what was not. I don't regret what has happened in my life, even though I know much of it was not healthy or nurturing. I am a product of my past, but I am the creator of my future.

In returning to high school, I felt terrible. Now that I have had the time to look at it though, I feel free.

Turn Back Time

I was listening to some pop music last night which is not something I often do. One of the lines from the song struck me. "If I could turn back time, if I could find a way, I'd take back all the things that have hurt you and I'd stay." I was thinking about that line, mostly just the beginning of it. What would happen if I could turn back time? What would I choose to undo and how would I change my life?

The answer I came up with is that I wouldn't. There are things that I haven't liked about my life, and there are things I wish hadn't happened. Just because I haven't liked things, or would like to know how things would turn out if I had taken the other path. It would be nice to know if I could have done it all and had it all. I don't think I could have though. I made the choices that I made. I came to the place where I am at right now.

I don't want to turn back time because that would mean changing so many things. I probably wouldn't have the job that I have now. I wouldn't know what real joy is or real sorrow. I could have stayed with another relationship that I was in, but that would mean giving up that one that I have now, and there is no way that I'm willing to do that.

I wonder how many people wish that they could turn back time and would, given the chance. I wonder what it takes in the past to make someone wish things had turned out differently. I also wonder why they don't just change the present. We are a product of all that has come before us and are a legacy to all that comes after us. To wish to change that past means that we wish to change the present. We can come to resent who we are because of what has happened to us, sometimes what we think we have let happen. Life is a constant process of becoming though. We can choose to become someone else, more ourselves whenever we want to. We can use what has happened to us, or we can ignore. The only we don't get to do is change it.

If I could turn back time, I don't think I would. It's not worth it. I would get to see something more, but I would lose so much of what I've seen. I would still leave what I left, because it's all been leading to where I am.

When I Grow Up . . .

Friday night I had the chance to go out for dinner with my high school math teacher. For those of you who have never had a conversation with me, I don't like logic and so I don't really like math. But I have stayed friends with my teacher even after I stopped taking math classes and left for university. We always have the best conversations and we agree on so many things even though we have drastically different lives.

Something she said to me once was the most incredible thing. She said that when she grows up, she wants to be me. For those of you who have ever had someone you admire tell you that, you have some fraction of an idea of how good that felt to hear that. The strange part is that I want to be her when I grow up. Other than the fact that I have no intention of ever growing up. Other than that.

One of the things we discussed were the choices I am making that will influence the course of my life. Her idea about it was that I have all the time in the world to do what I want. If what I want is to not go back to school, then that would be fine. She would just ask two questions. Is what I'm doing fulfilling for me? Does it positively influence that lives of those around me? The answer to these things is yes. What I do fulfills me and has a positive influence on those around me. I am going back to finish my degree now though. Maybe it's easier and maybe it's not. I'm not quite sure which one it is yet.

When I grow up though, I know I want to be able to say that the choices I have made have made a difference in the lives of those around me. I want to know that I have decided to help those around me and make the world a more beautiful place. When I grow up, it's not going to matter how grey my hair is or if I remember to put on makeup every day. It won't be so important if I got all the degrees that I wanted to get or if I was the most popular girl in my class. When I grow up, I want there to be world peace, but I doubt. I'll just get to know that I tried to make that happen.

When I grow up, I want to be the person who people want to talk to. I don't want to bore someone with the aches and pains that I will get as I get older, but to be involved in the lives of those around me. I want to still be able to write and share my passion through my words and my music. I want to be able to live a full life in every day.

I don't know how many of these things will happen and how many will not. I do know that if I have a goal and a guide, I will get where I'm going. Eventually.

Living Expectations

I had a very interesting conversation last night while I was coming back from Toronto with a friend. He's made a lot of hard and life changing decisions over the past year and I still feel as though I'm catching up on his life. Something he commented on was how he felt as though he was expected to live the expectations others had for his life. That is one of the many reasons why he left the life he had and came to Ontario.

It's great to be in a place in your life that other people can expect something from you. It can be nice to be someone who others want to rely on, but ultimately we need to live our lives in the way we can be held accountable for them. People can expect us to be so many things. They expect clergy to behave in a certain way and musicians to always love playing music. The reality of our lives is that we don't always like what we have to do and some days it's really hard.

There are the expectations that we finish school, find a high paying career, find a partner and start a family. When we change from this plan that is held for our lives, we can feel as though we are letting others down. We're not though. It is only when we change our lives to conform to what others want from us that we are really letting ourselves down. When we let others expectations dictate our choices and stop us from doing something we want to that is when we begin to lose out on life.

Living the expectations others have for our lives can be easy. That's really the only thing it has to promote it. It confines us and stops us from growing and becoming who we really are. We have the potential to be so much, usually much more than anyone really expects of us. When we stop living others expectations and begin to live the expectations we have for our own lives, that's when we truly begin to live. That's when our lives are able to exceed expectations.

Telling Titles

Titles are used so often in life. Perhaps it's because we find them easier than getting into a long discussion about what is really going on, or we just like things to appear simpler.

Titles tell a lot about us whether we want them to or not. We have titles for the job that we do, for our marital status, and for our health. We title things that shouldn't necessarily require a title such as our sexuality. Regardless of the value we place on titles, we have them forced on us some days. We can either accept these titles or accept that they will always chafe and confine us in ways we don't want them to.

The titles we are given come with responsibilities that we are sometimes unwilling to accept or unable to see ourselves with. Last night, I was talking with a friend and said that my boyfriend would be back in three days. My friend asked if it felt great to say that, that my boyfriend would be back. To my surprise (well, not really) I said that it didn't. This is not because I don't love the relationship I'm in. I do and I can't wait for him to get back from vacation. It's the title I don't like. I have someone to talk to at the end of the day and someone who wants to be with me. And that's really special. I just don't like the title. It makes what I have feel very high school and less important than it is to me. I also don't like the implication that I'm a girlfriend. That title always makes me feel like the ditsy girl from high school who wants to spend all her time with her boyfriend and always makes sure she looks perfect for him. That is not the relationship I have on any level. I don't always get to act like part of a couple and some days I feel more independent than I did before this relationship.

I'm not sure if I make a very girlfriend either. I am independent and I like the life that I have or had I suppose. I want some one to share my life with, not just for a few weeks or months, but someone who wants to be with me and share parts of my life. Partner may be a better term, but someone pointed out to me that's very ambiguous and not as clear. I don't particularly care. My relationship should not be defined by the terms others set on it. It's not theirs to define, but mine. Or ours I suppose.

Beyond the titles that are commonly used such as girlfriend/boyfriend, doctor, cook, there are government and social titles that I take issue with. I work with those who are considered to be developmentally disabled. For anyone who has never lived with them, I suppose this term seems to work. For those who have, you know that this doesn't even begin to explain the lives that are lived.

The titles that are used by the government especially are defined by what people are unable to do. Those who I live with can't do a great deal of things. They can't cook their own meals, they can't drive, and some of them require help bathing. There are physical limitations to their lives that they have learned to live with. This doesn't define them though.

Before I came here, without being aware of it, I could have been called emotionally disabled. I was afraid to care in case I got hurt. I was afraid to invite people into my life because that was scary and would leave me vulnerable. Some days my old fears still threaten to overwhelm me and it's scary. The people I live with have taught me to let go of that. They welcome new people into their home and their lives every year. They know how to say goodbye when people choose to leave without it hurting too much for them. They can share their laughter openly and also their sorrows. They share every part of their lives, their hopes and their dreams without being afraid of being told that they're not good enough. They open their lives to accept others and show that we are worthy of being accepted.

These people will never be able to run for public office, or win multi-million dollar court cases. They will never have children or climb Mount Everest. Many of them will stay close to the community they have become such an integral part of. While there is a long list of things that they will never be able to do, I still can't see them as disabled. They have taught me more in the total of six months that I have lived here and the months that I haven't than I have learned in two years of university classes. I have learned how to open my heart to those who need it and even those who may hurt me. I'm less afraid than I was two years ago and I continue to grow in this place that accepts me, even with all of my disabilities.

The biggest problem I have with people using disabled is that people are defined by what they can't do. I can't do a lot of things as well, but I'm not defined in that way because of my genetics. There is nothing physically to stop me from doing anything, but I won't run for office or climb Everest. I won't be a rocket scientist or a famous musician. I will simply be me. And that's something that requires no title.

Mature Relationship

It's strange to see how relationships change as you get older. Sometimes it happens gradually. Other times is seems to happen all in one day. But they do change. As we mature, so do our relationships. When we are younger, our parents are our parents, not necessarily our friends. When we get older we realize that our parents can be our friends too. They are people we can call when we have a bad day or need some advice. It can be hard for them to realize that too though. Parents always want what is best for their children and don't always understand the choice their children make. We do develop a deeper relationship with our parents that is less need based and more want based. That's the part that makes it mature.

Our friendships also begin to change. The opinion of our friends is solicited, but less life changing than it may have once. We also realize that we don't have to talk to our friends every single day, or consult them on every decision to have them be a part of our lives. Sometimes it can be the ability to connect over a cup of coffee after three months apart that makes it so mature. Occasionally there will be some jumping around when you see each other again and there will always be happiness, but you do connect on a different level than you once did. It won't be the "major" decisions, such as what to wear for a first date, that occupy your time, but deeper things. Maybe not the meaning of life, but the decision to move to a different country, get married or have a child. You can talk openly and honestly about the fears you have and the new joys that you have discovered. There are more opportunities open to you and you embrace them with your friends there to support you. They won't make the decisions for you, but they won't leave you if you make the choice they don't necessarily like.

The most marked place in our lives that our relationships change is the way in which we view our romantic relationships. In high school, relationships are usually a status symbol. You were worthy if you had someone to speak for you. It made sense for the popular people to pair off together and the un-cool ones are left behind. Forever is a word that is used often and not meant at all. As we mature we realize that what we look for has changed as well. We want someone who is there to support us and not just because they are there. We are willing to make concessions in our lives for someone who loves us, like moving to another province or another country. We make life decisions based with the knowledge that we are loved in a way that is meant to last, not until the end of the school year, but until the end of our lives. We meet those we get involved with in different ways as well. Sometimes at work, or through a dating service or through friends. They are not usually the captain of the football team, or the leader of the cheerleading squad. They didn't always win the track and field competition. Mostly, they are average people who become extraordinary to us. Not everyone is able to see what we see when we look at them, but we do and we understand.

Mature relationships do not look for the most popular person, or the one with the most medals. They look for someone who accepts and someone who supports. Maturity brings the acceptance of others that allows us to grow in relationships. It brings the clarity we need to choose relationships that help us to grow and flourish when we wouldn't otherwise. The maturity we see our relationships in allows us to become more mature and open to love and accepting love. We know that not everything has the ability to last forever, but we are able to accept that and enjoy what we have anyways. Sometimes things will fail and we will get hurt, but we know that we will move on and continue our lives.

Whether we want them to or not, we change as we get older. And so do our relationships.

Accepting Acceptance

There are a great deal of things in the world that we find hard to accept. The fact that bad things happen to good people seems to be at the top of the list. The meaningless wars, the stupid politicians and the problems we seem so unable to solve. We refuse to accept things we know are happening, such as global warming, because we feel so insignificant in the face of such a threat. We don't accept a great many things because we don't feel as though we are able to deal with them. But there is something even greater that we seem to be unable to accept in our own lives. Acceptance.

We find it hard to believe that someone would like us and love us exactly as we are. We have convinced ourselves that if our friends knew something from our past that we choose to hide, then they would no longer love us. If they knew we found it hard to be so perfect or do everything or that we don't really like going out partying all the time. If they knew we struggled with our body image, cheated on tests, had no idea what we really wanted to with our lives, then we would be insignificant and unworthy. For some, perhaps this is true. For most, it is not.

Most friends will not walk away from you when you tell them you have had an eating disorder in your life and that you still struggle with eating on a regular basis. They won't hate you because you don't know what you want to do after you finish school. They won't think any less of you if they knew the truth about the skeleton you keep in your closet who sometimes raises his bony finger to point out at you and remind you of who you once were. They won't walk away. They will still love you. Most importantly, they will still accept you.

It is hard to realize that we are loved for who we are. It gives us less to hide behind and less reason to hide. We don't have to use the excuse that we need to lose a few more pounds for people to really love us, or not telling a friend about something that's haunting us because they will leave. Unconditional acceptance is hard to understand because it means that we have to accept that we are indeed good enough. We are worthy for someone to love. We have the right to say that we are good enough and not think that we are terrible and have something to hide.

The job I have can be hard some days. It's made even harder by the fact that I think I have to be perfect to be loved here. I don't. I will make mistakes and I will be forgiven for them. Likewise, I will forgive others for things that happen to me. I have to realize that my acceptance here does not rest on the premise that I am perfect. It actually rests on the fact that I am human, totally and completely. It rests on the fact that I need to be loved and welcomed and celebrated in my life as much as those around me. I may feel much less worthy of such an honour, but I do deserve it. I am someone who is worth accepting and that is hard to accept.

I don't see the places of me that are good enough to be loved. I see the dark places, the shadows and the secrets. I see what I have hidden and what I continue to hide. I see the hurt and the pain. It's easy to ignore the joy, the beauty and the promise when you can see these things so clearly. I can't see the reasons why those around me accept me and even love me. I don't understand it at all, but I am thankful for it every single day. I'm learning to accept more and more that I am worthy to have people love me. I'm learning to accept the acceptance of me. Not who I want to be or who I will be, but me. Who I am right here and right now. With all my imperfections and flaws. They are all there and they are all seen. And I am loved and accepted anyways.

Scared of Sharing

There was an all assistants meeting this morning that I had to attend. I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. We all (or all of those who were there) shared how their year went. I felt a little out of place as I had not been in the group for the whole year. I'm a returning summer assistant who will return until the completion of my degree at which point I will take off to Europe.

I was the second person the share about my year and I wasn't really sure what to say or what not to. At the end of the sharing time I realized that I was scared. I was scared of sharing all the things that I've gone through this year and all the things I've felt. When we reached the end though, I wished that I had said more. I wish that I had opened myself to share with the people who are part of my community and a part of my life. I didn't take the chance then, but I will take the chance now.

This year there have been so many things in my life, many of them I didn't realize until after they happened or disappeared. The challenges in my life have mostly been returning to school. I spent most of the year piling too many things on my plate in order to not miss where I work. I didn't want to take the time to see that the relationships I create at university are only fulfilling on a few levels. I didn't want to see that I can't make relationships work because I didn't want them to work. So I buried and I ignored. The parts of my life that were life giving over the year were my friends and the L'Arche community in London that supported me. The thing the surprised me the most of the year was how much Daybreak got under my skin. I thought I would be able to leave without looking back too often, but I was wrong.

I don't get to leave this place that I have found. I will always be a part of this community in some way or another. My heart is here more than any other place regardless of whether I want it to be or not. I got to come back to a place that welcomes me and accepts me regardless of how many times I screw up (and I do). I'm now in a place where I want to make a relationship work. I think this is because there is support for me here. Well, mostly support. Sometimes teasing, but loving teasing. The community here is exactly that. A community. We are a group of individuals who have come together to make a common life together. I suppose that it had never occurred to me prior to today that belonging to community means that I have to share, some days whether I want to or not.

I don't get to have much of a personal life anymore. My free time is spent with the people who I work with, I sleep in the same house as those who I care for. I rarely get time to spend with those who are outside of the community I work in. My relationship is a part of this community as well. I had wanted to keep it personal and private for much longer than I got to, which was about 36 hours if that. Being scared of sharing really doesn't belong here. I suppose that's one more thing that I have to grow out of.

How Far

I like country music. I think I have publicly admitted to this before so no making fun of me. One of my favourite songs of this genre is Martina McBride How Far. The melody is simple and singable. The lyrics are what get to me though.

It talks about someone willing to leave a relationship, although she doesn't want to. She will do anything to get the one she loves to notice her. She will do anything. She is willing to go so far in order to save the relationship that she loves.

I wonder how often we are willing to do the same things in our lives. We make wishes for things that we don't get because we weren't willing to fight for it. We are not willing to make sacrifices of the sure things we have in order to get the possible things that we want to have. Most lives are full of ended relationships that we wish we had back. There are always the 'what ifs' that run around in our heads. What if we had stayed with that person? What if we had chosen another school? What if I had done what I had wanted and not what my parents wanted me to do? What would we do if we didn't have the 'what ifs'? How far would we be willing to go to try what we want to?

Society places a high value on security and the trappings that go along with that idea. The chances that we take (or don't) are usually focused around the idea of getting that. We finish school when we have to and then go out into the real world and get a job, usually one that we hate. There was once a point in most of our lives that we wanted to make a difference. We wanted to join the Peace Corps, volunteer to build a school in a Third World country or teach English in Asia. We wanted to have the time to see Europe and back pack around the world. We want to do so many things with our lives, but most of the time, we don't. We grow up, do boring things with our lives that we later regret and spend our lives wishing that we had done them when we were younger.

How far would we be willing to go to get the things that we want in life? Would we be willing to disappoint some of the people in our lives when we go far to make our own dreams happen? Are we able to make our own lives worth it?

I'm in a place right now where many people have given up a lot to be here. And none of them regret it. Many have come from countries in Europe or in South America to work here. Some have even come from various places in Asia. They have given up the life they are accustomed to and their safety nets of friends and family. They have been willing to come far for this. I wonder how far I will be willing to go when I have the chance. I was not able to leave school this year in order to stay in the place I want to for various reasons, but I am able to come back. I have not been able to go far enough to stay in the place that I want.

I know in the past I have not been willing to go far enough to stay in relationships that may have been worth it. They probably weren't, but they may have been. Now I have a relationship that will be worth it. And I'm willing to go far for it. Possibly all the way to Germany if that's what I have to do. I am willing to set the priorities in my life and hang onto them with everything I have. How ever far I am required to go to hang onto them is how far I will go. How far will others in my life be willing to go? I wonder . . .

Intentional Community

I've been reading a lot about intentional communities lately. There was one featured in the newspaper a few days ago about a group who began a community in Toronto. After leaving school, they felt disconnected and wanted to form a community of people who loved them. Another friend who I met while volunteering in London also lived in an intentional community and loved it. While looking at these communities and how great it must feel to a part of them, I wonder how it is that we have become so disconnected in society.

A hundred years ago life was part of a family and part of a community. Where you lived determined so much in your life and there was always someone who knew your name. It was more common to walk next door to borrow a cup of sugar or some tea. Now, I couldn't even tell you the names of my neighbours. I never see them. Well, partially true. When I live at work, Peggy lives next door. She's the kind of woman that you can say everyone loves and it would be true. She's 89 and incredible. Her garden would rival many that have multiple caretakers and she does all the work herself. She was working two days after she had surgery last summer and recovered very well. I know her. But in my other homes, I have no idea. I'm going to try and learn the names of those who live near my in the apartment, but I doubt it. We have gone to such great lengths to shut ourselves off from each other, to make space for ourselves. It's strange that the one thing we lose during this process is the one thing we really need. Community.

There seems to be a longing in many of us to truly know others and similarly be known by them. We want to feel connected, to be able to come home to people who truly care about us. Maybe that's why intentional communities have become more popular in the recent past. When we no longer are receiving what we need from mainstream society, we set out to get it ourselves. I was never more reminded of this than a few minutes ago.

I'm sitting on the roof at the home I live in and work in. It is a part of L'arche Daybreak, a community formed around the love and respect of those who have mental and physical disabilities. I'm taking my time away for the day as weekends can be long here. This is one of my favourite places in the house because it is calm, I can see the park and I can hear the pond next door. I'm also still a part of the house though. Another assistant just came and brought me some form of vanilla latte made out of milk and tea leaves. It may be one of the msot disgusting things I have ever tried, but I'm drinking it anyways. It reminds me of one of the many reasons I am a part of the community here.

On my days away, I'm always asked when I'm going to be back. That's great for me. It lets me know I will be missed and I'm always celebrated when I return. I seem to have trouble staying away for too long.

There are many communities in the world. Some are inevitable - work, school, family. There are also the intentional ones, the ones we choose and the ones we connect to. I'm not sure which is more powerful, the families we are born into or the families we choose to create. Hereditary family has become something more and more disconnected over the past years. Children don't talk to parents and parents don't listen to children. There is very little connecting many of us now. Perhaps that's why many of us begin to choose our own families. We choose to find people who share the same interests and genuinely care about us. (This also happens with those who are close to their families and have the great capacity to care - my case) Some of the communities we choose to belong to are not healthy for us, such as gangs or cults. Those seek to strip away the individuality everyone brings to the group and consolidate everyone together. That's not family and that's not community.

The great part about intentional community is creating another family for whatever reason we feel we need one. It may be because we care or we need someone to come home to at night who does. For me, this is always a powerful experience. No matter how much we think we don't need other people around, when we are truly welcomed into someone else's live, we can't help but be touched and changed. Creating our own family allows us the chance to choose and at the same time we don't. We can choose to become a part of the community some of the time, but other times we just get sucked in. Last summer I held back. I didn't want to care so much that I couldn't leave. I wanted to be able to have a career after this summer job that would allow me to have certain freedoms and power. I thought I had a choice. Now I realize I don't. A part of my heart will always be here, whether I want it to or not.

I intentionally chose to join the community I live in. In doing so, I made myself a part of this community and also a wider one. I became more aware of the needs of those around me and also my own needs. I intentionally held part of myself back last summer, but then I realized something. Finding a place you belong is never something you intend. It's simply something you find.

Comfortable Skin

I'm approaching the time in my life that has recently been dubbed as psychologists as the Quarter Life Crisis (QLC). It seems to be the time when many people are not comfortable with who they are and have no idea where they are going. They want to make a difference in the world, they want a job, a family. They want it all and they don't always want to work for it. There are those who do want to work for what they want, but they are never sure what it is that they want. At its essence, this is a time when we're not comfortable in our own skins. We're not even really sure what that means.

One of the things that strikes me so much about the place I work is how comfortable and accepting everyone here is with who they are. There are varying levels of ability and disability, but all those who have found a permanent home here are comfortable with themselves. They know how to laugh and they know how to truly live regardless of how the world sees them.

Today I had the pleasure of walking through a street festival with two of the people I live with. One of them is very outspoken and somedays loud. She is also completely at peace with herself. She will never have children or a high powered job. She won't create world peace or solve world hunger. There are so many things that she will never be able to do, but there are so many things that she is able to do.

While I was walking with her, we heard music coming from some of the bands that were playing along the road. She started to dance. I wish I could do that. Last summer, another assistant was surprised when I danced one day to music while we were cleaning because she had never seen that before. That was the end of July and we lived together since May. For some reason, I'm not always comfortable in my own skin. I don't always appreciate the body that I have, although I know I should. I don't enjoy attracting attention to myself even when I want to dance. Or I should say that I don't want to attract attention. I think I would be alright with it once I got used to it.

When I heard the music today, I wanted to dance too. I could feel the beat all the way down to the soles of my feet and I wanted to move. I wanted to be able to move and not feel like everyone was watching me. Then she started to dance. She danced in a way that only she can. And I think she knows it too. She is so comfortable with who she is that is shows. She danced because that's what she wanted to do. And I joined her.

I've said before that some people come here for all the things that they think they can give. If they can get past that wrong perception they have, they will realize how much they will be given, if they let it happen. While I have been here, I have felt the call more deeply than ever to become comfortable in my own skin and my own self. Somedays that's someone my parents and friends don't want to see. They are more comfortable with the stressed out, constantly moving student who does it all, or at least tries to. When I'm here, I get to find the part of me that is the truest and deepest part of me. Some days that comes out as the home maker who makes bread all the time and cleans until things are spotless. Other times it's more of a gypsy who loves brightly coloured shawls and some crazy jewellery. It's the call to dance in the morning when I'm happy simply because the sun is shining or because it's raining. It's the ability to sing with others in praise and in sorrow and just because. It's the ability to smile for reasons unknown simply because life is great. And it is.

I'm in no ways completely comfortable in my skin yet. I'm still working on it and some days it's hard. It's hard when I don't get a grade for the work I do, or when I have nothing to do. It's hard when I have to push my boundaries to find out who I really am. It's worth it though. And soon I'll find my own way of being comfortable in my own skin.

The Cup of Communion

I love communion services. I think I always have. For most of my life, grape juice was used. It wasn't until a few years ago that I began to attend Anglican services and have wine for communion. Not only was there wine for me, but there was also a communal cup. It is a closer way to celebrate and something that I enjoy a lot more.

The Eucharist is the meal that fills me the most in the week. It brings into deeper communion with myself and with God. Around the same time that I found the tradition that allows for that in my life, I also discovered the one that brings me into deeper communion with those around me. Strangely enough, the cup will hold the same thing.

A few nights ago I had the chance to stay up and talk with some of the people I work with. After a relatively long day at work (they really all are) we had the chance to sit down and share communion with each other. There was no one presiding over the offering of the elements to each other, but we shared wine and crackers. The strange part about that, with all the lack of ceremony that night, there was nothing that would have brought me close to both God and those around me. We did not gather to officially worship or give praise. We simply came together as part of a community.

It's strange how something so simple, like sitting down with a glass of wine and having the chance to talk will bring people together and create community. We opened ourselves to each other in order to bring each other closer and I'm not sure if we even realized it. Over a glass of wine and some simple food, we created our own communion and our own community. I don't think it gets much better than that.

Communion is the sacred meal in my faith and for many others. It is important and I do enjoy the tradition and ceremony of the church. I also enjoy the simple communion that we often ignore and think is less important than one that is formal. We should take the chance to have communion with each other, even if it is only over a cup of coffee. It is really important and just as fulfilling. It calls us to be closer to ourselves, closer to God and closer to each other. Exactly the way we were meant to be.

Jumping to Fall

I was talking to someone yesterday about ice skating. For those of you who have watched me do such a thing, it can be painful for me. I lack natural balance and skill that is required to stay up on two blades on a piece of ice. In fact, I lack the ability to stay up on a piece of ice without the blades between me and the ice. He, on the other hand, skates very well apparently. I don't think I will embarass myself in front of him this winter. At least not willingly. His mother was a figure skater and so he can skate well enough to amaze me. He said he tried jumping once and landed on his face. He wants to try to jump again without the falling after that.

Falling is a familiar feeling in my life. I fall down stairs, I fall up stairs. I fall off my bed, I fall pretty well anywhere there is space between me and the floor, the ground or water. I seem to lack a natural sense of balance and the falling is a product of that. Most of the time I really don't mean to fall. I don't do anything like jumping down the last steps on a staircase or trying to bungee jump out of an airplane. I don't consider climbing down the wall from the roof and I rarely stand on ladders at all.

The interesting part about my avoidance of falling means that I also avoid jumping. Jumping off tall buildings, jumping off swings, jumping out of trees. I tend to not jump on the basis that I know I will fall. I don't like cliff jumping very much or anything similar to that.

I'm beginning to take the chance of jumping though. The feeling is fairly thrilling. You fall through the air and don't have anything to hang onto. You lose control of the things you thought you had to hang onto and don't really know when you are going to land. That is a good thing somedays and others not. If there was not the possibility of falling when I jumped I think I would do it more often.

I beginning to jump learning and knowing that I am go to fall. I am going to fall in love and I may crash. I probably will at some point actually. Not necessarily in one specific relationship, but in some of the ones that I have. I am jumping to have the feeling of falling. The chance to let go completely of the control that I have and having nothing left to hang onto. I am jumping without the fear of falling, or at least with out the fear of landing. I don't really care how it ends. I may have a few bruises and bleed a little, but I get the chance to fall.

The Spirituality of Hospitality

There is a man here at Daybreak who knows everyone and everyone knows him. He does not attend Dayspring on Friday nights, but will stand at the front door and welcome everyone in. Some say he is not spiritual. I feel sorry for them.

Open hospitality is something that has been lost to our society. We seem to have a Martha Stewart idea of how to welcome people into our homes. Everything has to be perfect, from the furniture to the flowers to the drapes to the books that we leave out on the coffee table to seem smart. We have made welcoming into a formula. When everything is not perfect then we are not able or allowed to open our doors. That's one of the biggest pities in the world.

One thing I always wished when I was younger was that our doors and our table would have been more open to our friends. Every time when someone came over (and continues to be) the whole house has to be cleaned and vacumed. The vacuming is what really kills me. I hate that. I wish that we had been able to welcome people into our house without being self concious of the mess that makes it a home. If there is nothing out of place in the house, than that's all it will feel like. It will never feel like a home.

The home I now live at has a very open door policy. The house is more or less always clean, but there is no need to call before coming over or even knocking on the door. It makes it one of the most spiritual house that I have ever lived in. Not in the traditional sense, but in the truest sense. We have an open door to anyone who wishes to enter and we turn no one away.

The New Testament is full of examples and times when we are called to welcome those into our lives that we don't wish to. They can be the outcasts for so many reasons, but we don't want them near us. An interesting scenario of this (one of the few things that makes me mad enough to hit something) is when a L'Arche community attempts to open a new house. The London community I volunteer with is trying to do that right now. They have bought a house and are currently fielding calls explaining why the house is a great idea, just not on their street. They have the idea of hospitality right, to welcome those around them, but they missed out on the spiritual side of it. They missed the call to really welcome those around us into our hearts and our lives. It's easy to care about someone and ignore the reality that they need something from us. We can be called to hospitality, but be caught up in the Martha Stewart aspects of it and forget the spirituality behind what we are called to be. When we are able aspect the calls of the spiritual we are able to offer a fuller and truer hospitality to those around us.

No Fighting at the Table

At the end of April, I had the chance to attend the only Chinese Catholic church in Quebec. It was a really interesting experience. Half of the service was translated into English and I didn't understand the rest of it. Having said that, while it was interesting, I wouldn't have attended a Catholic service voluntarily had they not taken care of us for the weekend. I don't agree with many of the policies that are held by the Vatican and I will be vocal about that. The one that was discussed before the service between the Anglicans that were visiting that weekend was the exclusion of us from taking communion.

Every other church I have ever attended and enjoyed being at has had an open table policy. Those who believe and want to be a part of receiving communion are welcome to. That seems to be the running policy with all of the Protestant churches I have had the pleasure to attend. The Catholic Church is the only one that seeks to close the table and exclude those who think differently than they do. Those who think differently than the Catholic Church include those who believe women should have the right to a voice in the church, those who believe in same-sex blessings, those who support the right to choose and those who believe that we don't need someone to talk to God for us.

There are many disagreements over the decisions that are made in the church and what is supported in different ways. That may be the reason why there are so many different denominations and why there are still fights in synods and committees all over the world. IT is human nature to disagree over things. There are different opinions over many things and people have found different places in their faith to agree with things that others disagree. Regardless of how much we disagree, and we will, there is one place where there should never be fighting. That is the sacred meal that we have.

There is one rule that tends to prevail in my house. That is no fighting at the table. When we sit down to dinner together, it doesn't matter how much we have yelled at each other, or how much we may have hurt each other. It doesn't matter how bad our days were, but we don't take it out on each other there. The table is a place for family to come together and share life together.

I wish I had the ability to smash some heads together and get the leaders the churches to see it the same way. When we come to the table, we come empty and seeking something. We come to share our life and our faith with others. We do not come to be turned away or to be told that we are not good enough. We were invited by someone who loved equally, with no regard for race, gender or sexual orientation. We are called to continue this tradition in any way we can. The best way to do this is to have on open table and put out the open invitation. Not just to those who agree with what the current pope has to say, or who fit in with the accepted idea of what is normal or good. Everyone who answers the call to come to the table. All those who are not too busy or caught up in their own lives to care. All those who wish to express their faith should be welcome. That's what will happen when we decide to stop fighting at the table. We should really make that a rule.

Acting My Age

I just finished reading Tuesdays with Morrie for the second time. It's one of the best books I have ever read. I enjoyed reading it again as it fits with my life so well right now. One of the main messages of the book is to live your life in relationship, with people who are important to you and not worrying or caring about the material wealth that is acceptable in society. Each chapter is a topic from discussions held between Morrie and one of his students, Mitch. One of the things that they discussed was aging. One of the interesting points that was raised was that there are those who wish they were younger.

Morrie said that he didn't wish that he was younger. At 78 and dying of ALS, he had no desire to be younger. He said that wishing to be younger was for those who had not fulfilled their potential. He didn't regret getting older or aging in anyway because he was able to be every age. He could be 17, 35, 48 and 53. He knew what it was like to be all those ages and he was able to be them all over again. I like that idea of aging. I also think that he was right.

I tend to not act my age. For some reason I tend to act older. Most people will tell me that I seem to be at least in my twenties while I still belong in the realm of teenagers. One of the great things that I have learned to do this year is act more like my age. It's pretty liberating and much more enjoyable. I'm 19. I can't be 25 or 38 yet, but I will get there. I can still be 14 and 5 all over again. I can be a kid while also being closer to growing up.

Acting our age and accepting our age is a powerful step. Society seems to be obsessed with the idea that we slow down aging. So many people wish that they could be back in university or in their twenties again. I have no idea why. I'm not going to suggest the angst and confusion ever really goes away, but that is the worst time in the world for the growth of those feelings. There are redeeming factors of this time - freedom to do more things because we have less ties to those around us, less dependence on us. I'm not even sure that will be better than what happens later in life. I enjoy being close to those around me and I'm alright with people deing dependent on me. I like being 19 for some reasons (mostly because I can finally drink) but I don't dread getting older. I've accepted that I will get grey hair and wrinkles. I will have to have a job for the rest of my life, although it will be one that I really love, and I will be a responsible citizen of which ever country I'm living in. I will be acting my age when I get older as I am learning to live my life in my age right now.

A Turning Chance

In the past, I have written about my claddagh, an Irish ring meant to symbolize love (heart), friendship (hands) and loyalty (crown). It's a common symbol of Irish heritage and one that I have embraced. When I originally bought it, it was to be used as a symbol of my independence and connection to my heritage. The direction of the ring also symbolizes different things, which was something I had to research. When I found out which way my ring was meant to stay, I changed the direction of it to show that my heart was not claimed or attached to one specific person.

Yesterday, or I suppose late Saturday night, I turned it. And now I'm terrified. Every time I look down at my hand, or play with my ring as is one of my nervous habits, I realize that I have someone else in my life. It's thrilling, but scary all at the same time. Most moments the thrilling out weighs the terrifying, which is good. What scares me is that I have someone else to think about now. I like it, but I also want to be able to make my own decisions based on what I want. What I want has now become entangled with someone else.

I took a chance when I turned my ring. I took the chance that this might not work the way I want it to and it will hurt a lot to have to turn my ring back down. I took the chance that he might not realize how important that is to me to recognize as a committment. He probably has no idea actually as it is not his heritage, but one day I think he will. The scarier chance is also the most thrilling. I took the chance that I will turn the ring down again, but on my left hand. I took that chance that this might work, that I might never have to worry about turning my ring again. My life might change a lot in the next few years because of the choice that I've made. I kind of like that idea. Despite how scary it is, I want that to happen.

Regardless of how this works out, I've taken the chance. A turning, and changing, chance.

Seeking Perfection

I'm not really sure what it is about our society that constantly inspires us to seek for perfection in every area of our lives. I don't think that the search for perfection is necessarily a bad thing, but the heavy weight of failure when we don't have it is.

The most common way to search for perfection is in body image and we feel as though we are less than good enough when we don't look like a magazine. That's ridiculous as there is way too much airbrushing going on to ever tell what the original looked like. We also fail when we don't get grades that are high enough, either to please ourselves or others. We want to be at the top of the class, we want to be the best. That doesn't always happen though. Each person has a unique set of skills that they contribute and some skills cannot be measured by a passing grade.

We want perfect relationships. We want to never fight, to never have problems and never have to struggle. We want to never mess up and hurt someone who we love. It really doesn't work that way though. The best part about relationships are the imperfections that exist there when you create them. There will be fights sometimes and there will be mistakes. We won't get to have a relationship that never has problems, but we will get to have the great ones that we hang onto.

I would love to say that over the past years I have never fought with my best friend. We have known each other since 6th grade and while we're not really inseparable, we are always there for each other. I know that she will be reading this and know exactly what I'm talking about. There are times when I have not approved of her choices and many more times she has not approved of mine, but that doesn't really matter at the end of the day. What does matter is that there is a voice on the other end of the line when I have a bad day and need someone to support me. Better than that, when I'm bubbling over with happiness, I know I can call and have someone be happy for me too. I think that's what makes our friendship so perfect. Some days are hard to stay in touch with each other and others harder still when you have to support someone through something you never approved of, but it is strong and it is good. We know each other well and know that the perfection will let our friendship continue.

It is possible that in order to find perfection we have to look at the heart of the matter more than what we immediately see. There are mornings when I wake up, with my hair in various directions and circles under my eyes, wondering why anyone would ever be happy to see me. It never fails that my welcome man will have a smile on his face when I come down the stairs and the day will begin again in a great way. It really doesn't matter what I look like or if I sometimes mess up. The perfection in my relationships comes from the heart of the matter, where relationships truly flourish.

Heart Choices

A song from Aladdin just came on the radio and it's one of my favourite songs. It was the duet between the princess and Aladdin, A Whole New World. The line that struck me most was "Princess, when did you last let your heart decide?"

I can be the logical one at some points of my life. I realize there will be dissent over that statement, but when I make decisions I will make pro and con lists, look at things from every angle before deciding. I can usually talk myself out of doing things before I even get to the stage of doing things. Having said that, I have also banished logic from my bedroom. It is not allowed there.

Even when I'm not using logic (my own unqiue and special brand of it) I still don't make decisions with my heart. I use past precedent and what I have seen happen to other people. I won't usually throw myself into something unless I'm sure that it's safe. Or at least minimally damaging.

I heard once that falling in love is a great idea, so long as you take your head along with it. For the most part I do. It's an interesting experience to not have that. To just follow your heart especially when you don't know where it's going to end up. It's a hard chance to take, especially when there really are no guarantees. Sometimes that hurts more in the end, but it makes the fall really incredible.

I'm making a few choices now and I'm not sure how much I need to listen to my heart. I could use my head and then I know exactly where I will end up. Back at school, miserable and alone. My heart says something else entirely. If I listen only to my heart, then I will be at Daybreak, ecstatic and in relationship on so many levels. It might be easier to blend these two. The best compromise might be that I end up back at school, sort of happy and still together. Even though that's not necessarily what my heart is telling me to do (in fact, not really at all) I'm not sure if I am able yet to let my heart decide. I am working on it though.

Count Your Blessings

"When you're worried and cannot sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep. And you'll fall asleep, counting your blessings . . ."

I think that may be my favourite song from the movie White Christmas. It's a classic song that I used to sing with my sister a lot. I rarely had trouble sleeping whne I was younger, but now I seem to find that I have trouble sleeping a lot for various reasons. Mostly due to worry. I just can't seem to shut my brain off. As a music student, songs and riffs run through my head until I fall asleep. I can't listen to music anymore when I'm trying to sleep because it keeps me awake picking it apart and analyzing it. Even now when I begin to sing this song, I get caught up in the music of it.

It's an interesting concept to count your blessings to get yourself to sleep. Sometimes it takes away the worry and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes you begin to worry that you will lose the blessings that you have and don't want to sleep in case you wake up and find out that it was all a dream. That happened to me last night and will probably continue to happen every day that I get to spend at work. I love it here so much for so many reasons and every day comes with its own unique set of blessings and challenges.

I have a theory that if you fall asleep with a smile on your face, you can't help but wake up that way and you will have another good day. For me, the perfect way to end the day is giving thanks for the day and the amazing things that happened in it. It keeps me humble and thankful. There are days when I have felt that I have very little to be thankful for, but then I realize I have so much to rejoice for.

It's easy to let the small, frustrating things take over our day. It's easy to see only what hurt us and not what helped us grow. When we stop to count our blessings we see the opportunities that we have to use for the rest of our lives. The petty things become even pettier and the great things begin to rule our days. We get to see the beauty in each day and in those around us. The ability to appreciate that is so precious. We walk around thinking that so many people are out to get us and we neglect to see all that they are doing for us. So the next time that you have trouble sleeping, try counting your blessings. They're easier to find than sheep.

Piece of Paper

Over the past few months, with some of my friends graduating and the fact that I might actually have to return to school in the fall, I've been thinking about the piece of paper that we get at the end of four years. The words from an Avenue Q song spring to mind whenever I begin to think about something like this. "What do you do with a BA in English? Four years of college and plenty of knowledge have earned me this useless degree."


When I return to finish my degree, I will be going back to study music history. There are few things in life that are less useful for living a day to day life than knowing the periods in Beethoven's life. Actually, there may be and I will learn all of those things over the next two years of my life. When I do graduate with this degree, there will be very few people in the world who will want to hire me. The ones who will will be in L'Arche communities which doesn't bother me at all. It's actually what I want to happen.

When I do get to hang a piece of paper on my wall as my parents and friends do, I'm not sure how I will feel. That piece of paper will just be that. A piece of paper with letters on it that say I may or may not have learned something over the past four years. The paper cannot show the blood, sweat or tears that went into earning three letters to add to my name. It doesn't show the 18 hour days that I put into school work or the hours I carve out of my day to try and relax. It doesn't show the heartbreak, the pain, the moments of pleasure and happiness. It cannot show the friends, the conversations, the moments when you want to completely give up and think that you can't do it anymore. In the end it is just a piece of paper. Any worth that is in comes from what value we place in and what we believe it to mean. If it has no power to us, then it also has no power over us.

I am working so hard right now to get that piece of paper to hang on my wall. And I have no idea why. I don't want something else that is going to fall me around for the rest of my life. I'm ready for the rest of my life to start right now, but I'm not sure where that is going to lead me. The months when I'm not working 18 hour days to meet the requirements to finish this degree I live at work and work 20 hour days. Sometimes longer than that. What I do during the summer is what I love the most. The four months seem like a year because of what I really do here. And there is nothing more or less that I want to do with my life right now. I have to leave this for eight months out of the year in order to gain this piece of paper, and I'm not so happy with that right now. When I hang the piece of paper on whatever wall I will have at the time, it will show the fifty thousand dollars that have gone into keeping me at school and the hours that I have spent working on terrible projects. Whether or not I want to finish this degree, I will. I will finish this and hang the paper with some special letters and some meaning to someone else. And maybe one day it will have more meaning for me.