Action, Reaction, and Waiting

It’s been over 2 months since my last post. I keep thinking about writing something, then getting distracted or never fully forming the necessary thoughts. A few weeks ago I was blaming it on the craziness of finals and graduation, and now I get to blame the post-grad slump.

The other day I was having tea with Joy (of joynessthebrave) and she asked me if I have lately been feeling like I’m waiting for my brain to reawaken itself. This launched us into relieved expressions of “oh, you too!?”. Neither of us have posted anything since April (well, now she has. She’s faster than me). Both of us graduated early. Both of us spent the majority of our lives up to this point working to get to this point, and now are at a very unfamiliar place of waiting and wondering and trying to figure out life all over again.

… Actually, now it’s been another month since I wrote those first two paragraphs.

So this leads me to a question that I have often pondered: when is the appropriate time for action, for reaction, and for waiting?

The past few years I’ve spent largely on reacting to the situational fact that I was in school, working towards a goal, dependent on my family, etc. Last month I spent waiting. Waiting on a phone call, an idea, a direction, a job. And then I got tired of that and sprung into action. Today was my first day at both my new job (server at Denver’s best brunch spot) and internship (with a local fashion designer), both of which I landed by reaching out to every last person I could think of that might have some ability to help me.

Growing up in the church, I heard things all the time like “I’m just waiting on God to tell me what to do” or “yeah, I don’t really want to but that’s what God is telling me to do”. It annoyed me then and it annoys me now. Those utterances are a dime a dozen and I know from experience that God doesn’t really work that way most of the time. And the real problem comes when those phrases are followed by colorful accounts of what they really want to do and are passionate about and talented at. You know what I think? When there is a fire in your heart it’s there for a reason. Don’t blame God for your fear of the unknown, of failure.

When your heart longs for something, when you feel dissatisfied, or in a slump, or lethargic, act! Now is the time. When doors are opening to you and other people are making decisions that affect you, react. Don’t waste it. Don’t be afraid of what might happen, when the possibilities are unknown and endless and great. Each one of us has some kind of support for whatever we do.

And possibly the hardest of all… waiting. I feel as though I’ve spent far too much of my life waiting. But sometimes it is entirely necessary. Sometimes you need to turn off your phone, make a cup of tea and watch Gilmore Girls all night until you feel settled enough to move forward. Sometimes your heart needs a rest (and I think it lets you know) before moving on to the next grand adventure.

Knowing what to do in the waiting time is important. But it’s also important to realize when you are actually waiting. I am the type that’s had a ten year plan since I was eight years old (granted, it changed a lot for the first while). When you plan ahead so much… have dreams and goals of what your life is moving towards, it’s easy to get lost in the waiting and forget about the things that are happening now. I could easily fall into the mindset that I am still waiting–waiting for my own business to start, for a family to start, everything. But the action is already happening.

it’s not all up to you

It’s been a while since I last blogged. I find that when I go to write a post, I feel the need to be an expert on the subject to share some sort of ‘wisdom’ with my readers, or at least have a fully formed opinion on something. The problem is that I am constantly thinking through things and changing my mind and never really have enough authority on any subject. That’s not really the point of a blog though… and I think it’s really healthy to share thoughts with the world. Even if no one comments or cares, I still know that it’s out there somewhere and maybe someone else is thinking about it too.

Another thing is that my last post has left me trying to catch up with myself a bit. Confession: It’s a lot hard than it looks to ‘reject the notion of rejection‘. For some people, this is no struggle at all. You have no problem saying whatever is on your mind, talking to whoever you want to, doing whatever you want to. Everything just kind of works out and you go with the flow. I hope you know how awesome that is, because not all of us go through life the same way.

Myers-Briggs says that it’s just part of my personality type… extremely empathetic, always looking for the deeper meaning behind everything, striving for the ideal and virtuous, loyal. Basically I don’t half-ass anything. If I’m doing something, I’ve probably thought about it and overthought it and then psyched myself out of it a few times and then finally put on my big girl panties and actually go for it.

On that note, I’m a total introvert if you’ve never noticed that before. That doesn’t mean that I hate people, but that I think and process and gain energy when I am alone, and when I’m around other people they basically just suck all the life out of me. Just kidding! But I’m perfectly content and happy in solitude, so I’m also very intentional about who I choose to interact with. If you’re one of my friends who I spend a lot of time with or seek out… you can go ahead and feel special.

But back to what I was saying about taking the initiative and not worrying about rejection. One of the most frustrating things that I found was that living by this philosophy of seizing every opportunity and changing the way society is governed makes you feel like it’s all up to you. I was complaining to my sister (o wise one) about yet another unsatisfying situation, when she pointed out that my mindset was that I had all the power and the other people involved had none (not to mention any higher, transcendent power). It’s really easy to get caught up in that… and it’s just not realistic. True, I can come off pretty closed off sometimes and then it is up to me to do something.

But it’s not just our own choices that affect our lives. That in itself can be frustrating, but I have found it to be even more liberating. You don’t have to beat yourself up about missing an opportunity, because if it was going to happen then it would have required someone else making a choice too. And they didn’t, so it’s not your fault.

I guess my point is that I hope everyone looks for the beauty in everything and lives life to the fullest, ‘sucking the marrow out of life’. But things happen and things don’t happen, and some things matter and some things don’t. So, as my french teacher would say, don’t beat yourself up because life does that enough for you already.

Rejecting the Notion of Rejection

The game of love is exhausting. You can’t have too many feelings, you don’t want the other person to have too many feelings… but more than you, because you want to feel pursued. It’s all about who cares less, really. And it doesn’t make sense. If you’ve had any contact with the dating realm recently, then you know what I’m talking about–in fact, you’ve probably complained about this exact thing. Well, I’m tired of playing the game. In fact, I want to change the game.

So first I’m going to define my terms. I mean ‘love’ in the broadest sense. Soul-mate, romance, friendship, admiration, affection, etc. are all included.

With that out of the way, the first thing to ask is ‘why?’ There must be a reason for all the falseness and tiptoeing. And here’s what I think: supposedly most people’s biggest fear is dying. I don’t think that’s true. Everyone is scared stiff of rejection. And to be honest, most of us have already experienced it. Most of us have been hurt, some of us have had a badly broken heart, and if you never learn to properly get over it then every moment of rejection thereafter feels like salt on an open wound.

And here’s the answer to why this isn’t good enough: we all know that love is worth it. It’s worth the pain, the fifty rejections you will feel the full force of before you find the one that is acceptance. I always hear that when it’s the right person, there won’t be any games and it will just be easy. Well, I’m happy you’ve found that and I hope that one day I find it too.

But that’s not enough for me.

There are so many social constructs that stifle amazing connections, kill love before it even has a chance to bud. College culture perpetuates this problem to a sickening degree, as does technology. I know that I personally am so much more likely to send someone a message over text or Facebook than actually find the guts to walk up to them in person. Behind a wall of nothingness, you can ‘like’ a few pictures and feel it out, see if they ‘like’ some back and then things are really rolling.  But none of this means anything. It’s all just a whole lot of not caring.

So, in this crazy world where everyone wants love, nobody is really willing to put themselves out there to have a love story. And I’m saying this as someone who is just as bad as anyone else, as much as I hate it. But playing the game isn’t fun anymore. There’s no real prize when you’re playing not to lose, instead of playing to win.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if we all felt like it was okay to be vulnerable, to actually say what we mean instead of what’s ‘appropriate’ for the situation? When I feel a telepathic connection to someone, I want to be able to see that magic bloom to fruition without all the growth-stunting games. Don’t you? Because I’m not really sure what else matters in life.

I don’t know if anything will really change… probably not, which just makes my heart even heavier. We can’t pry ourselves away from our pride, and we’ve somehow construed self-sufficiency, safety, and mediocrity into admirable things. But maybe later on today I’ll smile at that person, or perhaps they’ll smile at me first. Who knows. Maybe we’ll even speak to each other. Maybe not. But I hope that I have the gumption to step away from those social codes that so frustrate me, even if no one else comes with me. I know I’m not the only one though, because I’ve had this conversation with many of you. So, what are you going to do? Maybe you will speak to that person later today. In hindsight, it’s worth the cost of your pride… In my experience, pride isn’t really worth much anyway. I’d rather chase the magical moments with abandon.

Frohe Weihnachten

Christmas morning.

I am currently drinking a cup of coffee and eating a large German Christmas cookie. From the window behind me, I can see vineyards, the Black Forest, and a dozen houses that are at least 200 years old and look exactly like what you are picturing in your head right now.

I’ve been thinking a lot about home and tradition in the past 48 hours, because in that time I have experienced several significant things that were new to me while I would usually be at home doing the exact same things I’ve done every other year of my life. Usually, I’m not the type of person to get homesick. Everyone in my family has always been adventurous and ambitious, so ‘home’ is really more that feeling of support and relationship that we take with us everywhere than a physical place (although we have lived in the same house my entire life). But two days ago I felt the overwhelming weight of 3 months of homesickness flood down on me all at once, because… well, I won’t bore you with all the details of how a roadblock with a pretty easy solution caused me to have a minor panic attack in the middle of Roma Termini station. But when I realized that I had booked one leg of my next journey for the wrong day, all I could think about was how my brother and two sisters were at home with my parents, where it was snowing and the house was filled with the scents of fresh pine needles, wood burning in the fireplace, and perfectly spiced wassail simmering in the crock pot. They would be wrapping up gifts in brown kraft paper and ribbons, listening to Fernando Ortega, Vince Gueraldi, and Sufjan Stevens, and lounging on the couch reading their respective books.

Ok, so this post is starting to just turn into my nostalgic ramblings. But the point is that when your heart is in a place like that, the last thing you want to be doing is taking two wrong busses and getting lost in Rome (although getting lost in Rome under different circumstances can be quite enchanting).

After this unexpected extra day in Rome, I finally made all my connections on the journey to a small village in Germany. Let me add that my spirits were raised considerably by what I saw out the train window. Half of Italy sped past me under a soft blanket of fog, and don’t even get me started on Switzerland. The Alps are unreal and I’m seriously considering spending the rest of my life in Spiez (purely based on the scenery).

So here I am, in Germany with a family that had the same great-great-great-great grandfather as me, and I am experiencing their Christmas traditions. We sang German carols by the tree last night (which I sung very quietly and mumbled through the words) and feasted on fondue and wine (and then later on kirschwasser) from their vineyards. There’s something incredibly charming about being welcomed in to share in something special with people who you can barely communicate with.

Traditions are so important. Christmas is so important. When I told people that I was not going home for Christmas this year, their reactions were either “I could never do that!” or “you’ll be fine, it’s just another day”. I’m so glad that I’m experiencing another way of life, but not because it’s just another day–it really isn’t. And it shouldn’t be. Everyone’s traditions are different and maybe you celebrate the night before or the day after, or New Years, or another holiday altogether. But the one thing that’s universal about this season is that it holds everything that is good in this world. It is all about valuing love, family, warmth, deliciousness, and laughter. And for many, it holds the promise of our faith. So wherever you are and whoever you’re with, I hope that you are indulging in all those silly traditions and putting aside any petty differences to love one another. There’s really no other soul food like it.

This is the End

I know it’s finals week when Netflix jumps to #1 on my Top Sites. This time, I’m not only avoiding the fact that I have coursework to finish, but also the fact that I am leaving London in exactly 1 week. There are a lot of thoughts swimming around my head about being places temporarily, and what that means in life. When you think about it, things are always temporary… it’s just that some temporaries are longer than others, and some we are far more aware of. It can be hard to feel truly present in a situation that you know won’t last long. At the same time, you always want to make the absolute most of the time you have… so it’s a real juxtaposition between your mindset and desires.

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During my time here, I haven’t had any great personal revelations, met any Scottish Dukes to marry (but there’s still time, right?), nor have any of my classes, friendships, or other situations been anything like what I’d imagined. However, I have come to realize that growing up just means continually feeling like a child who’s pretending to be an adult. Being in a new place doesn’t make you a new person, but it can throw you out of your element just enough to make you try new things and have a good time no matter what. I’ve learned how to be sort of okay with being totally uncomfortable. I’ve learned that London is an intoxicating, mysterious place that one can only scrape the surface of in a few months here. I’ve fallen in love with strangers on the tube, and had many genuine connections with people I saw one night and will never see again, as well as people that I had the privilege to get to know over a longer period of time. I’ve had days where I’ve never felt so lonely. And I’ve come to a much deeper appreciation and love of my lifelong friends from home. I’ve found a special place in my heart for hatred of English Pigeons. I actually like beans and toast now, and definitely believe that Yorkshire Gold tea is life.

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Even though all of this–my experiences, relationships–is temporary, there are aspects of everything that are infinite. The little things… the feelings, the memories of what happens change the way people are and change the way the world is. Irish hospitality transcends time and place, and something about the way that person smiled at me that one time in that one place will somehow never fade away. That’s what’s so great. Things change, people change. We go to new places, eras end, but everything that happened alters the blood that flows in your veins, and in that way… it’s infinite.

And on that note, I’m going to go and find another way to put off doing coursework.

12 signs you might be Socially Awkward

1. When you’re around foreign people and somehow all the things you know how to say are culturally unique idioms.

2. You pretend like you don’t see someone to avoid having to say words… then realize that’s probably why you don’t have friends.

3. You’re staring happily into space from your own little world, then suddenly realize you’ve been staring at someone you know. And they’re giving you a pretty funny look.

4. You chuckle at some incredibly witty internal commentary you just made, then start to notice all the people around staring at you.

5. You feel like you definitely have enough experience in this area to write a blog post about it.

6. A conversation from a few days ago pops into your head and realize you said something totally stupid (eg. “yeah, my favorite Steve McQueen movie is the Sting”). Contemplate the feasibility of never interacting with that person again.

7. Make some great pop culture reference (because most of your time is spent watching movies and reading). Nobody gets it. You don’t even try to explain it.

8. You realize about 10 years after the fact that someone was flirting with you.

9. You feel a great sense of satisfaction, and congratulate yourself, after every successful social interaction.

10. And then after you congratulate yourself, you text your best friend to tell them about it (God bless the best friends of the socially awkward).

11. Your internet/facebook stalking skills are a bit frightening.

12. You think that it’s probably safe to start showing the full spectrum of your sass and sarcasm. Friends just think you suddenly got really mean.

To live what is life

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”

-Henry David Thoreau

We, as a society, are so enthralled with the idea of seizing the day, finding adventure, living boldly. It is something that I have been turning over in my mind the past few days–spurred on, I think, by my circumstances. I am currently living in London, experiencing something that I have only dreamed of for a lifetime. After 7 weeks of living in the heart of London, I am starting to have the creeping feeling that I have not been fully taking advantage of the situation. Sure, I do things like pop in the British Museum for an hour, hop on a train to York, or go to a world-famous club. But always hanging over me is the question “Am I being too careful? Is there something truly great here that I am missing?”

The other day I re-watched the Dead Poet’s Society, a film focused on carpe diem. The boys in it begin to think for themselves, do things just because they can, make good choices, bad choices, ultimately just start to reach for the feeling of being alive. 

It made me think: how much of our society is built around being safe? Wear a seat belt. Don’t talk to strangers. Plan ahead. We avoid danger, avoid death, discomfort.

But there’s a crucial dissonance here with one of the deepest, truest desires of mankind: to be great, to feel alive.

Pope’s Essay on Man call’s out man’s desire to be among the angels, something even greater than what he was made to be… Epics like the Iliad and films like the Dead Poet’s Society and Riot Club are formed around man’s unquenchable desire for adventure.

So often do we subdue this pursuit, or derange it into recklessness. We tell ourselves that it’s better to be safe, quiet, and not rock the boat. Then we become comfortable in our safe little environment which society so well nurtures. I don’t know about you, but this is still deeply unsatisfying to me. I read novels of amazing journeys and dream of far-off lands. There’s a truly incurable wanderlust and craving for adventure. But how do we fulfill that when we have been so conditioned to ignore it?

In the Dead Poet’s Society, one character always intrigues me the most. He doesn’t do anything like standing up to his father or professing love to a girl, as the others do, but you can tell he is really impacted when the teacher challenges him to overcome his fears and is the first one to stand up on his desk and call out after the ‘captain’ at the end of the film. In contrast to some of the other boys, he still has hesitation at adventures, but he knows when something is truly important and is willing to stand up for it.

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I’ve come to the conclusion that the pursuit of adventure and the feeling of being alive is a lifelong one. You can’t just turn on a switch and suddenly take full advantage of every moment… it’s a search for something rather elusive. There is certainly a balance that you have to find–when it is a time for caution or gumption. It’s not about being stupid, it’s about being courageous.

Yesterday I booked a trip to Barcelona, Aix-en-Provence, Rome, then on to Germany with maybe a quick stop in Switzerland… with probably Belgium and Paris next, catching a bus back to London in time to ring in the new year and fly home via Reykjavik. I can plan ahead as much as I want, but this still scares me as much as it excites me. I will be making my way through multiple countries alone, surrounded by people speaking foreign languages, trying to find the bus to the next location, really trying not to spend every penny I’ve saved since I’ll have to pay rent as soon as I get home, and all the while trying to ignore my grumpy side that will inevitably be really tired and hating humanity–and find that adventure I seek.

North Star

St. Paul’s Cathedral has become my North Star. I think it’s a rather nice thing to have as a North Star, and it always seems to lift my spirits when I have to make use of it! The enormous dome towers above everything in my home borough, so I only have to navigate my way towards it to find the path home.

(this picture is unedited… amazing)

Recently, I went to Ireland with my friend Joy. We spend 2 days walking (and let’s be honest, sometimes running) around Dublin and were jolly tired at the end of it all! Upon my arrival back in England, I stood outside in the cold for 2 hours, waiting for buses that were rather late and watching the full moon rise in front of me. Watching the moon rise may sound like a pretty meditative experience, but the hanger struggle was very real and I had work and homework awaiting me at home (needless to say, none of it ended up getting done). After the ~1 hr bus ride from the airport into the city, I found myself in somewhat unfamiliar part of London at 10 pm with a completely dead phone (don’t worry, mom! It was a safe part of town). The first thing I thought of was my North Star. Some other bus stops are probably closer to where I live, but being closer is not always better when you’re wandering the Medieval streets of London! Hopping off the double-decker at St. Paul’s, I looked up and breathed a sigh of relief. The magnificent, imposing dome rose up from the darkness, lit up as a beacon in the night.

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North Stars. I’ve lived in one city my entire life and always been pretty dependent upon technology to get me from one place to another. So, aside from using the mountains to know which way is West, I’ve never really had much need for a North Star… but I couldn’t help but think about the parallels to Christ in my life. God can be found in so many things, everywhere you go. Sometimes He’s the cozy little cottage where you’re invited in out of the rain and given tea and an omelet. Sometimes He’s the best friend standing right beside you. And sometimes He’s an overwhelmingly–almost terrifyingly–majestic presence, visible through the winding streets and towering up over the darkness. I think we all want the scenario of the cozy cottage or the best friend to be our relationship with God. It’s hard to admit that sometimes the truth is closer to the relationship of a small, hungry person holding fast to the one thing they see to be an absolute truth, set in stone. Maybe that’s because it feels like we’re weaker then, and it’s the best we could manage. But there’s something endlessly comforting in the knowledge that you have a North Star. While you are feeling lost, helpless, doubtful… God is guiding you, as a beacon in the night. It makes me think of the song How Can I Keep From Singing (which I first heard sung by St. Paul’s Choristers, haha) “No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that Rock I’m clinging. Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?”

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When your North Star is something so grand as the Lord of Heaven and Earth… how can you do otherwise than cling to it?

There’s dirt in London, but it’s magic dirt

I’ve been living in London for two weeks now. It’s been full of weird sleeping schedules, traipsing all over the city, meeting lots of people, lots of trips to the grocery store, and trying to figure out British coins. After the first day of being absurdly tired and hangry, I have settled in quite well.

On my second day here, I accidentally walked like 8 miles around London. First I moseyed on over to the British Museum and found some lunch on the way to Picadilly Circus. Why not just pop on down to Buckingham Palace next? And Westminster isn’t too far from there. Oh look, St. Paul’s Cathedral! Yeah, while they’re all not too far from each other… it made for a large loop to walk. (“where are you trying to go?” “well I’m headed towards Barbican” “That’s miles away!” “yeah…” “Good luck.”)

It is funny how everything seems much more composed of dirt and grass and stone than it did when I walked these streets as a wee 8 year old, but it all quickly reminds me of why I fell in love with this place before. The clock tower at the Houses of Parliament is really not that tall, but watching the sunset from Waterloo Bridge is still magical. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that I can see the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral from the street by my flat, and I can pop over for Evensong any evening I’d like. 50 steps outside my door is the place where Shakespeare would license his plays (and it was a short stroll across the Millennium Bridge to see a show at the Globe Theatre). Almost every time I walk anywhere, I happen across some random tiny Medieval walkway or a Tudor house built on top of/in between 3 other eras of architecture.

Up next: Dublin for a weekend with the bestie!

 

Fallega hluti

Hello, London town! I’m sitting in my new flat, sipping Yorkshire Gold and munching on some fantastic cheddar. The past few days have been a whirlwind of airports, beautiful nature, getting lost, and being absurdly tired. I was definitely on the struggle bus getting here from Reykjavik, but with a little help from some British gents (carrying my suitcases up tube station stairs) and Providence, I managed to find myself in front of my housing in one piece. But more on that later!

First: more on Iceland.

I am awe-struck!

Reykjavik, to be honest, was pretty unimpressive to me. Everything is very nondescript and plain (built of concrete, because there are earthquakes of 2-3 magnitude several times a day) and catered towards tourism. I didn’t really find anything that was just quirky and ‘happened’ to be there. But I will say that Icelanders are very intentional about everything, which I appreciate because it usually means preserving the land. The nation is hydro-electric and geothermal powered, and even though Reykjavik is littered with tourists, once you leave the city everything is untouched.

 

This photo hardly does it justice. Gullfoss is stunning! It throws up so much mist that when it is sunny (this particular day happened to have Colorado-like skies), there’s a rainbow over the falls.

(photo courtesy of a kind fellow from Manchester who saved me from my selfie fails)

On the language: It comes from the old Norse language, so it’s really similar to Norwegian only CRAZY. I’m usually pretty good at picking up languages and the only thing I got was ‘takk’ means ‘thanks’, which is the same as in Swedish. If you’ve seen the Secret Life of Walter Mitty, the whole thing about Eyjafjallajökull wasn’t an exaggeration… the whole language is like that.

At Geysir, I climbed a mini-mountain and got this incredible view. Along the river there were a few little houses and Icelandic horses. This photo really doesn’t do it justice, the colors were really vibrant! The terrain is really rocky, mostly steely grey or dark lava rock covered with moss and other undergrowth. I saw very few trees and only 1 flower (brave soul!). The geological activity on this island is really interesting–hot steam just comes out of the earth at various places, there are 3 huge glaciers, and lots of volcanoes. And I love how they are able to preserve it by using clean, renewable energy sources! Here’s hoping tourism doesn’t ruin it.

 

Someday I’m going to come back for a good chunk of time (like a month) and road trip around the fishing villages and backpack in the mountains. Anybody want to come?