Note for my friend who probably won't see it (but sometimes you just have to write things down)

I am praying for you. I am holding you tight in my heart and attempting to will a happy ending. Or at least a happy continuation of the story.

I pray for your safety in these next few weeks. I pray for your sanity and your rest. I pray you find peace in the midst of chaos and pain. I pray you find moments of joy scattered among the shocking sadness.

And most of all, I pray for your son. For his courage, his happiness, his ability to hold on... and most of all for his health.

We love you.

Career Caboom!

My friend Patty recently expressed a sense of confusion over her next steps career-wise, which prompted me to send as many career assessments as I could locate her way and to suggest some good career sights I came across while working at Career Services.

I can very much empathize with where she's at. And I'm not sure the assessments will be of any use... I have taken every single one I can find. And while it has given me a better understanding of the many components that make up (and can be weighed) a career decision... I don't necessarily feel super clear that I have found the absolute right path.

I have begun a placement in a school this week, and it has opened my eyes to a number of aspects of working as a school counselor of which I was previously unaware. Things that may not really fit well with the thing I've determined I want out of a job/career... or that I have decided are priorities right now. (Of course, there are some thing that fit perfectly and are quite exciting and inspirational.)

The bottom line of my career dilemma seems to be: I want more time with my family. I miss my daughter with an ache that is palpable each day. And being away for 7 hours or longer each day simply feels much too long. It's hard on both of us, and we both end up more prone to anger, depression, and a sense of aimlessness.

Maybe that's enmeshment, or maybe it's a very normal place to be within this particular stage of her attachment development and my journey as a mother. I know I have to be doing something... at least some little thing that is mine and is separate. But it doesn't seem to work to have that thing be 40 hours per week... or even 30. Or maybe even 28.

Thus, Andy and I are in a bit of a pickle at present, and I am trying to balance my emotional needs and mental wellbeing with smart decisions and long-range planning to reach something that is ultimately best for all of us.

Some days I am strikingly clear what that is... and others, I feel I flounder horribly and swim through self-doubt, heartache, and discouragement.

My mother suggested I ask my higher self or a higher power for guidance. Similar to praying, I suppose, or meditation, or listening to your inner self... trying to hear that inner voice. I'm not sure that voice or power or whathaveyou is consistent in its messages and decisions. But I will give it a try and aim to find a direction that feels as authentic and positive as possible.

For those of you who may be in a similar state of confusion or vocational implosion... I send out my prayers to you that you are able to find an answer to your own questions and a path that suits you well.

Articles of Faith

Andy shared a story with me recently, wondering what my reaction to it might be. Apparently, Obama placed a prayer in the Western Wall during his visit to Jerusalem... and someone removed it.

Not only did this person remove the prayer, but he/she then shopped it around to at least two papers until someone decided to publish it.

My initial reaction was a mixture of anger and disbelief. Jay Torrence once wrote a play about his experience at the wall for Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, and I always felt it was one of the most beautiful monologues about faith to ever grace our stage.

His description conveyed a sense of communal worship that was equal parts collective and individual connection to God. Something sacred, something ritualistic, and something important to each person who made that journey.

Although I have tried to step back in the last couple of days to see if I can feel more compassion for those who made decisions ultimately leading to the publication of the prayer, it is difficult to understand or empathize with such a stark disregard for someone's privacy and personal pursuit of spirituality--no matter who it might be.

I have read reactions stating it was a photo op he took and might therefore be a hollow action, but irrespective of his intentions, the sanctity of the Western Wall and the many prayers placed there should, in my mind, take precedence over everything else.

Every action creates ripples. I wonder what aftereffects will flow out over time?

Impossibility

The story that caught my ear this morning on NPR was about the cyclone that hit Myanmar on Saturday. The death toll is expected to reach at least 10,000, and there are thousands of people with no homes, no place to go, and in danger of getting sick (or worse) due to contaminated drinking water.

Sometimes you'll hear people remark that things could always be worse... that there are always people who are worse off than you are - the logic being that you should therefore count your blessings and stop your grousing about your own discomfort or sorrow.

I prefer to reframe it a bit: There are always people out there who could use some prayers (blessings, good thoughts, good energy) as much or more than you can. There are always people in need of help, compassion, love, and good will - whatever spirit you are able to give them.

There really is so much suffering in the world, it is sometimes staggering to take in. And when a disaster like this occurs, it's overwhelming to realize how many individual lives will be forever changed by one crisis.

I see "elimination of all suffering" as an impossible task. Which does not mean is should not be attempted - quite the opposite. I think it's very important. Important to ruminate and meditate upon, important to discuss with one another and make part of a larger social discussion and collective consciousness, important to attempt throughout our lives in whatever way we can.

Sometimes impossible tasks are necessary. Cervantes called it tilting at windmills, the Buddhists call it enlightenment, and UUs have woven it into their seven principles, seeing it as inherently connected to broader human goals serving as a promise to all people.

To me, faith, belief, hope, and love are all tied to impossibility. They are all celebrations of finding possibility where none seemed to exist... particularly in the midst of suffering.

Think. Say. Do.

I wrote a play, while in The Neo-Futurists, about prayer and the semantic difficulty of finding a word that adequately expresses what I feel I do when I'm asking for help or trying to connect with something larger or seeking to manifest/create something new. At least, that's part of what it was about.

Prayer was not a word ever used by my family and, in fact, I grew up sort of feeling like it carried a negative connotation - too religious, too Christian, too attached to dogma. I grew up without formal religion. I attended church with friends every once in a while, but I was primarily raised in what might be called a "New Age" theology or spirituality. My brother and I were encouraged to question, to explore, to define our own beliefs and to learn as much as we could about others. A pretty great way to grow up, overall.

My family always called prayer "blessings" - but it's really the same thing. And so lately I've tried to be more mindful of using the word prayer. To open myself up to using that word to communicate what I'm doing when I pray for others or pray to a higher power.

My prayer for myself, in times of trouble, is nearly always the same: Let things happen as they should; let what is to be, be. Help me trust all is unfolding just as it is supposed to.

Because, ultimately, I do believe all happens for a reason and all happens as it should. Which is not to say I believe I can sit back on my booty and just wait for good things to occur. I believe you still have to fight for your dreams, work toward your goals, and advocate for your needs. (Nor does it mean I believe bad things happen because we asked for them or deserved them... I guess it's more that I think it all leads toward personal/spiritual learning, evolution, and growth.)

So perhaps it's a marriage between destiny and fate... a balance between free will and the will of God (another word I'm trying to get more comfortable using). The bottom line is, the events of the last two weeks have tested my faith as I've prayed for guidance, patience, calm, and trust.

Most of all trust.

Purpose and possibility

I have a friend whose heart is failing her. Literally. It's not working as it should and her options are very limited given her age. (She is young, which in this case is apparently not a good thing and decreases her chances of surviving surgery).

She is my main "outside" anchor here (my husband being my first and foremost anchor wherever I am), and our friendship has become increasingly important to me as we've made our way through school together. We are very different, with different backgrounds and approaches to life, but we share a lot of striking similarities as well. I think they tend to sneak up on us more... and we are left in wonderment and surprise at the unexpected link.

I have a hard time understanding sickness on a spiritual level. I can see how it provides opportunities for learning and growth (perhaps enlightenment or spiritual evolution), and I know it's an inherent and inevitable part of being corporeal and human... our frailty is an essential component of our self-understanding and experience. But the big "why" of major illness is sometimes tough for me to parse out in a way that leaves the questioning side of me satisfied.

I don't like feeling helpless. I don't like feeling life is unfair to those around me who are good people whom I love and for whom I wish good things. I often wish there was something more I could do than pray and provide emotional support. Something to fix it or resolve it or change it.

I think the helplessness is a lesson in itself. Not a very enjoyable one, but a necessary and significant one nonetheless. And there is a lesson in the praying as well - the provision of outreach, compassion, energy, and intention. We can make choices; we can seek connection; we can offer help. Perhaps it is good to remember such things are possible, and to embrace the purpose and possibility behind such actions.