Learning Curve

Today I was reminded all things happen for a reason and that, if you wait long enough or think hard enough on it, eventually nearly all things will reveal some form of larger purpose or lesson that has been provided as a gift or at least a challenge in order to support further growth.

I sometimes forget this, particularly when things don't go as I had planned, anticipated, or expected. I am not so good with change I have not initiated. But if I am to walk my talk, then I must embrace the notion that all things are offered or thrust upon me for a purpose. Nothing is without meaning or at least without opportunity.

I finished my first semester of internship today and was very, very sad to leave. This was in stark contrast to my emotions the first few weeks of being there, when it felt like nothing had gone right and there was no clear reason why the universe had thwarted my well-laid plans and plopped me down somewhere I thought I had no business being.

Of course, the universe knew better... and my process of discovering this led to greater humility, patience, and faith - all of which has helped me grow as a person.

I have noticed, ever since committing to a helping profession, whatever that larger power is that connects all things tends to know who needs matching up and what combinations of people will lead to the greatest potential for evolution, healing, and change. It's a rather phenomenal aspect of this line of work, and one I am continually surprised by in its intricate and purposeful beauty.

So thanks, universe, for knowing better. I'm glad I paid attention and was able to make the most of your gift.

Decoupage and the Modern Family

Andy and I were talking today about our current conundrum about where to live, what to do for work, how to make everything happen smoothly, where to raise Ari and what type of environment would be best for her, etc. We feel awash with possibilities and hard choices, and ultimately we have begun to realize how stuck we are because - ultimately - we do not know what it is we want. We have no clear sense of our priorities.

And... I am beginning to wonder if this essentially means we are unaware of how we believe we make meaning of our lives. Unclear on what gives us purpose and what we wish to create in the long term. Because, if we don't know those things, we have no idea what things to fight for and hold onto, versus what things we can compromise or throw away.

So. Here we are. Blessed in so many ways and lucky because there have been many good things that have happened over the last several years. But also feeling somewhat lost and still trying to determine our next several steps because we are unsure what to emphasize or focus on in our pursuit of both present and future.

I think we both have a belief that other people do no seem to struggle as much with this kind of angst or confusion. We look around and see people who don't vacillate as much; don't change their minds as often; don't seem to be as deeply sad or adrift; don't seem to worry about it or obsess over it as long.

But perhaps that is an illusion. Sometimes it's hard to know how much of your drama you are responsible for... and also whether or not you are writing a narrative for those around you that is simply not true.

I suppose fabrication can be a positive or negative thing. We can fabricate in a way that takes us further from the truth - further from authenticity or real-ness. Or we can fabricate in a way that is creative and productive... where we seem to will opportunities into being and fashion a life out of random events or happy luck.

Right now we're trying to figure out what it is we wish that final picture to look like. You'd think we'd have figured it out by now... but I suppose we are slow bloomers in some ways.

Ironic

We got some bad news today; without going into too much detail, I will simply say something we had expected to happen (and around which we had been making plans) did not occur. It all kind of went into a different direction--one which is not bad, but is definitely not what we anticipated.

It threw us both for a tailspin, but it provides an opportunity to embrace the mantra from yesterday... and to strive toward that ability to detach from expectation and to live happily in the present, trusting that everything will be okay.

Some days that is easier than others. But I think it might be a somewhat universal pursuit. To feel at peace. To feel purposeful but relaxed without our lives.

Funny how life sometimes hits you over the head with those lessons.

Trust (a note to myself)

Everything happens for a reason. Even if you can't see it yet or are unable to discern the bigger picture at the moment--there is direction in the chaos.

There is purpose. There is meaning. Don't lose faith or get discouraged or allow your heart to be consumed with worry just because you can't figure out where it's all headed. And especially just because your expectations weren't met or your assumptions were proven wrong.

If you believe you are safe, then feel safe. If you believe you are able to succeed and to fail and still be okay... then go ahead and succeed, and fail, and try to enjoy every step of the process.

Don't panic.
Don't worry.
Don't second-guess.
Don't freak out.
Don't feel trapped.
Don't get angry.

You have so many things to feel grateful for, to count as blessings in your life. Why not embrace those things and enter each moment with a smile and an easy heart?

Reframing the Unfortunate

I read Andy's post from yesterday, which made me tear up because it was so beautifully written and perfect, and sounded just like him. He's amazing.

To catch everyone up post-surgery (and muddle through some resulting ruminations):

I am home today, having spent the night at Becky's parents' house, and having had a follow-up visit with my eye doctor at the Marion Eye Center. A few facts for anyone who likes to have them:

• Apparently having a detached retina is a pretty darn serious condition. If they don't catch it in time, it can lead to blindness. And, as with any surgery, there's no guarantee they can fix the problem and make it like new again.
• I went into the surgery with very little information as to the procedure itself, possible risks involved, or what to expect upon waking.
• I left Marion Eye Center to come home around 4:30, got into the car with Becky to head to St. Joseph Hospital in Kirkwood, MO a bit after 5pm, and got prepped for surgery around 7pm. Then we waited. Becky has a lovely picture of me with my eyes taped shut and the word "YES" written above my right eye. If we can figure out how to get it from her phone to this blog, I'll eventually share it with you.
• I entered the actual surgery around 9:30, finished around midnight, and left the hospital to go back to the Tadlock's (where I stayed the night) around a 12:45am.

So here is the bad news. Apparently, the retina in my other eye is nearly detached as well. So they want to operate on it too, but they want to wait until the right eye has healed to do it. They've said about 4 weeks from now, but if there is a problem with my right eye (which, as of right now, there is), then they'll probably just do it anyway and I'll do my best with little to no vision in either eye... and pray everything heals up over time.

I'm not yet sure what this means with regard to my summer classes, my ASCA conference trip, my hope to help the Neo-Futurists with Coyote Ugly choreography, or other random summery-type vacation plans.

Here's what I do know: I've spent a lot of time thinking about what I would rather lose: my sight or my hearing. I always went with hearing. For a number of reasons. I'm an observer... sight is how I take in my world and make sense of it. It's how I process and the main means through which I gather information. If I lost my hearing, I figured I'd miss music and talking and sounds, etc. - but I could still interact with my world. I could learn ASL and work with hearing impaired clients or work in a school for non-hearing students. Loss of eyesight kind of means loss of the ability to be a counselor, to my mind, because you lose the ability to take in one of the fundamental pieces of information you need when working with clients: nonverbals. It's what we're noticing when we look for incongruencies or want to see the physical impact of a certain topic. I don't know how I would do the job without sight.

Also... to be totally honest... I am prideful about my eyes. Not in an overtly "sinful" way (if you go for such terminology... which I don't... I guess I see it more as ego or attachment), but it's the one part of my body I've always liked... been proud of and really considered special. So, the irony of all this is not lost on me.

But here's what else I know: This seems to be a gift... an opportunity of sorts, because I realized a few things during the several hours between finding out I was in danger of going blind in one eye to finding out I was in danger of going blind in both.

I have always been able-bodied. My whole life, I've been pretty disease-free and relatively healthy. I had no knowledge of what it was like to have a disability, often felt I didn't know what to say or how to act when I met people who did (which is not very helpful as a counselor, btw), and had no idea what it was like to walk into a room and have everyone staring-but-not-trying-to-stare-too-hard because you have a huge patch with tons of tape over your eye with your glasses smooshed over everything and precariously resting on your nose.

It's an incredible opportunity to broaden my understanding of and empathy for one of the many ways our human experiences can vary. If I do get better and can work in a school setting, I will be even more ready and able to help special needs students or children, even parents, with disabilities. I'll have a better sense of what they or their family members are going through, and I'll feel more comfortable talking about it because it no longer feels completely foreign to me.

If I do lose my sight in one or both eyes, or end up severely visually impaired (which, I'm obviously hoping I do not, but the realist in me does not want to be caught totally off guard by bad news), then I can go back and earn my Ph.D. or use my skills to write books geared toward school counselors to use as bibliotherapy, or pursue the ministry, or a whole host of other things. And maybe some of those paths will not ultimately be open to me, and maybe others I've not even thought of will.

For whatever reason, my whole family (e.g., mother, fathers, brother, sister, cousins, etc.) all believe that nothing happens without a reason and everything has purpose. All those folks might give the power behind such things a different name, or label, but the overriding idea is that God (be it the you-God, an other-God, or something that is simply more powerful and more knowing than the "little-I" you) does not give you anything you cannot handle. Nor do things come without a greater lesson, opportunity, or purpose. I do believe that.

So, despite still feeling pretty scared right now, and somewhat disoriented both mentally and physically, I also feel there is a reason. Though I might not see it right now, I will in time. Perhaps more metaphorically than literally... but we shall see. (Ha! There's another one. Hard to get away from that pun potential!) Despite this sorrow, I look for - and believe in - the possibility of joy.

Divinely Guided?

An email arrived today from a friend, Rachel Claff, who created a project for The Neo-Futurists one year that now runs every summer: the Neo-Futurist Film Fest. It's become a long-standing, much-anticipated, and much-loved tradition. Staged readings of the worst film scripts ever - or more accurately, from the 20th century. Brilliant.

This year marks the 7th annual Film Fest, and the final film of the festival is Coyote Ugly. Yes. Coyote Ugly.

So Rachel wrote to see if I would a) want to be in the cast for the film and/or b) choreograph the dancing for it. And here comes my dilemma... I'm in class over the summer, am taking two tests I need for certification in IL, and will be preparing for two tests I have to take in the fall (one national certification exam and one university exam required for graduation from the program). Not to mention that one of my courses may completely prevent me from doing any more than going up and choreographing a few numbers over the weekend. We shall see.

BUT MAN OH MAN DO I WANT TO DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!! Not just to go up for a weekend and choreograph it, but also to go up and perform too. Which made me wonder:

Is there divine purpose or guidance to our career paths? Are we meant to do something in this world... and if we are not doing it, are we somehow not fulfilling our purpose in life?

I left the arts to pursue a degree in an area I had long considered as a possibility... namely, counseling. I ended up choosing the school specialization (though I have vacilated GREATLY throughout my program), and I know that I want to find a way to balance working with children to make a positive change in their lives with completing some artistic projects that have long been in my head and may accomplish the first goal as well (at least a few of them).

So how do you do it? How do you balance your life when you feel you have multiple callings? Not even adding in the calling to the UU ministry... I've already got plenty: author, choreographer, counselor, performing artist, writer, etc.

I often feel envious of my brother, Brent Roman. He has always known he wanted to be a musician. And, more specifically, a percussionist. And... even more specifically than that - a percussionist working for Cirque du Soleil. And so that's what he's doing. He finishes up the Alegria tour in South America and will then switch over to Dralion in Australia. Crazy.

My respect and admiration for my brother are very high. I find him immensely talented, and I am very, very proud of him. But I also envy the way in which he knows exactly what he wants to do - and he doesn't have to split his focus or juggle multiple balls or constantly second guess himself in order to get there.

I often wish I could attain the same singularity of focus. But 35 years into my existence, I'm pretty sure it's not going to happen. I'm built a bit differently... and so my lesson seems to be much more about prioritization and balance. With an emphasis on balance.

So here I am... walking my metaphorical tightrope, checking my summer schedule and creating bartop dance numbers in my head while finishing up a large research project and looking for school counseling jobs in several states.

Most days I trust a larger pattern to the chaos... but sometimes, I can't help but wonder.