I just finished watching "Then She Found Me", which is a wonderful movie. It's rated "R" for language. It's got Helen Hunt, Colin Firth, Bette Midler, and Matthew Broderick in it. A main theme in this movie is adoption, from every angle. Another theme is infertility. And another theme is divorce and relationships, every kind of relationship, between families, lovers, etc. Another theme that surfaces is God and religion. It is a beautiful movie.
I haven't been religiously active for years now. There was a brief moment last year that I went to church consistently. It lasted 5 weeks. This blog post is not about what issues I may or may not have with religion, because quite frankly I haven't figured it out yet. I support my family and friends who are active in their religion. I am excited when my nieces and nephews participate in religious ordinances because it is important to them and I love them, so I support them.
There is this part in the movie where one of the main characters experiences a miscarriage after great difficulty getting pregnant in the first place and then begins the process of going through fertility treatments because of her difficulty in getting pregnant. Her birth-mother is at the appointment with her and the doctor wants to get started with the treatment and her birth-mother says to her daughter, "Do you want to pray?" and then at the doctor, "That's what she does, she prays a lot." Her daughter says she doesn't want to pray and this surprises her birth-mother who then asks the doctor if she could have a minute with her daughter. The doctor and assistant leave the room to give the patient a minute with her mother.
The birth-mother then starts asking her daughter why she doesn't feel like praying. The daughter gets defensive and gets up to leave the room to get the doctor but the birth-mother won't let her by. Holding her daughters hands she asks her for the fifth time, or so, why she won't pray at the most important moment of her life? Her daughter responds by saying something like, "Why would I trust this moment with someone I thought was..." and she stops. With tears in her eyes, crying a heart broken cry that we've all experienced at some point in our life, she says, "I thought God was loving and good... I had faith." At this point, I'm crying because watching this movie and seeing all that this character has been through, a lot of it relate-able, it was hard not to cry.
Her birth-mother responds, "What if God is difficult? What is He is awful? Even complicated?" Her daughter looks into her eyes and whispers, "like me." And the connection is made. This hit me hard. I know I've discussed religion on here before. The topic of religion is delicate and complex. It's a delicate place to be in when you know you've sinned, but from your sin comes your life's greatest accomplishment. How do you justify those feelings? It's also scary to consider trusting to someone else, anything else that could be remotely as important to you as your life's greatest lesson. And so, you just kind of go through life trusting yourself with yourself. I'm talking about being a birth-mother right now.
I could sit here and say that the reason I don't go to church is because the bishop I spoke to after I placed Baby Boy for adoption didn't handle it very well and punished me further after I had just made it through 9 months of spiritually self-refining fire. I could. Religious figures always make for a great scapegoat. I could think up a dozen issues I have and place the blame elsewhere instead of owning them as my own insecurities about religion. But really what it comes down to is that I once had faith. I once trusted that God was loving and good. Maybe that's ridiculously cliche for me to say. I mean, of all the scapegoats there ever were in the history of mankind, of course I'd be angry at God. There is no originality in that one. I get it. And maybe it's selfish of me to feel like I deserve a break. But, we've all been there. So, clearly there is enough judgment to go around in a situation such as this.
I had a dream about a baby girl the other night. I was holding this baby girl and she had raven-black hair. She was tiny. And I loved her. I could feel my love for her and it was radiating and I knew she could feel it too, even though she didn't know what it was, except that it felt safe. My entire dream consisted of me looking down into the eyes of my baby girl and being so proud of her. She was tiny and she was mine. Do you know how badly I want that? It hurts bad.
The main character of the movie ends up praying. She is Jewish and so her prayer was sung. She translates it for her birth-mother afterward because her birth-mother is not Jewish. Translated, the prayer meant: "Listen, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Listen, O Israel, the God of love and the God of fear are one."
To be human is to be a paradox. If it is human nature to be a paradox; to be awful and wonderful, to be complicated and simple, to be difficult and effortless and if we are to believe that we are creations of God, then wouldn't it make sense to believe that God is infinitely more complicated than we are? This is a huge thing for me because I have felt so much guilt about my anger towards God. And the fact that I feel guilt makes me even angrier. But, God created emotion and emotion is confusing. We know joy because we've felt sorrow. We know love because we know anger. And He created it all, so knowing that, I know he can handle my anger and desire to shut Him out right now. It's complicated. And this post could offer great offense to some of you out there; I realize this. But, if I am being honest, I don't feel safe in religion right now. And I don't trust God right now. And that's okay because God is merciful and He can handle my anger towards Him. Not many beings can handle this kind of anger, but He can. He can handle it because he is the God of love and fear. He knows the delicate difference between the two.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
Radiate
On Friday, I took my first yoga class. I've wanted to take a yoga class for a couple years now but I was scared because it's something new and I didn't have someone who would be brave to go with me, and being brave alone is sometimes scary. Who am I kidding? Being brave is always scary. I don't know of too many people who think to themselves, "Gee self, you know what? Today I am going to do something that scares the wits out of me and I'm going to like it. I can't wait to traumatize myself." Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Regardless, for 2 years now I've wanted to take a yoga class and last week I started.
I walked into the class and I was scared. The instructor came in and I introduced myself (voice cracked). She was very nice and her entire demeanor was calming, something I've always wanted to command in myself. I grabbed my mat and I set up and class started. The music was beautiful; piano/Celtic with a backdrop of thunderstorms and rain.
Mid-way through the class my legs were shaking and we were getting into more difficult poses. I started to stress out because I struggle with feeling weak and letting others see me struggling. The whole class, the instructor was encouraging the whole class. By the end of the class, I was feeling refreshed and extremely shaky. I was also tired from the week. Then this song came on that I recognized from my childhood, it was on my Celtic Moods c.d. that I would listen to when my anxiety presented itself. This song has always been a calming one for me.
We moved into a pose (I don't remember the name) where our chest was raised up towards the ceiling and the stretch was allowing for an opening of the chest and it felt wonderful. The instructor started talking about opening our heart up to possibility. She talked about being willing to receive from the world what you put into it. She talked about how the universe is here to carry us and care for us and we receive what we put into it and if all we've put in is good then there is no need for us to fear what we will receive in return. At this point, I'm maintaining the stretch and hold of the position, and I'm looking skyward, and silent tears are streaming down my face. She goes on to say, "You are worthy to receive the good you put into the world. The only one holding you back from fully opening your heart to receive the good back, is yourself. Open your heart and receive." The stream of tears cascaded down my neck and my breathing was thrown off from my attempts to not audibly cry. I'm sniffling and maintaining my pose and the entire moment was so therapeutic for me.
There is no need for me to focus on the detail of why this moment was so groundbreaking for me. For those of you who have read my posts faithfully, we've been through a lot together. Based on the comments I've received on this blog and privately, I know that some of what I've talked about has resonated deeply with you, and so I say that we have been through a lot together. It's scary to open yourself up. It's scary to believe that there is still good out there when you've been burned so many times. It's scared to hope when your individual hope has gone to battle too many times to count. That's where I've been lately. Completely devoid of the desire to open up and try again. And this yoga class has really made me think.
Every person out there, at one time or another in their life, has had the desire to be something beyond what they think they are capable of. We all, for the most part, want to impact the world in a greater way than we've been impacted by it. That goes for the good and the bad. Experience, if not analyzed, can lead to pretty destructive behavior. But, if you are able to look at your experience and know that, in reality, that difficulty was exactly what you needed, and you move forward with that understanding, then you are giving back good into the universe. The only one holding me back right now, is me. I can have the love that I've given. I can have the joy and happiness that I've inspired in others. I can. And I will. I will because I haven't given up. I thought I had, but that's the thing about Hope, she never gives up. Hope is my heart and my heart is strong and unwavering.
The instructor ended the class with a quote that is so resonant to what 2013 and the theme of pink is for me and all that this year will inspire in my life. It's by William George Jordan, from his book The Majesty of Calmness. It goes:
"The only responsibility that a man cannot evade in this life is the one he thinks of least, his personal influence. Man's conscious influence, when he is on dress parade, when he is poising to impress those around him, is woefully small. But his unconscious influence, the silent, subtle radiation of his personality, the effect of his words and acts, the trifles he never considers, is tremendous. Every moment of life he is changing, to a degree, the life of the whole world. Every man has an atmosphere which is affecting every other. So silent and unconsciously is this influence working, that man may forget that it exists. Into the hands of every individual is given the marvelous power for good or for evil, the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of his life. This is simply the constant radiation of who a man really is, not what he pretends to be. Every man, by his mere living is radiating sympathy, or sorrow, or morbidness, or cynicism, or happiness, or hope, or any of a hundred other qualities. Life is a state of constant radiation and absorption; to exist is radiate. To exist is to be the recipient of radiations" (emphasis added).
You give what you get. Karma returns 10 fold. You receive what you radiate. However you want to say it, your unconscious effort is the most influential and impactful. This is important to remember. This quote is hanging on my cork board at work where I can see it every day.
I walked into the class and I was scared. The instructor came in and I introduced myself (voice cracked). She was very nice and her entire demeanor was calming, something I've always wanted to command in myself. I grabbed my mat and I set up and class started. The music was beautiful; piano/Celtic with a backdrop of thunderstorms and rain.
Mid-way through the class my legs were shaking and we were getting into more difficult poses. I started to stress out because I struggle with feeling weak and letting others see me struggling. The whole class, the instructor was encouraging the whole class. By the end of the class, I was feeling refreshed and extremely shaky. I was also tired from the week. Then this song came on that I recognized from my childhood, it was on my Celtic Moods c.d. that I would listen to when my anxiety presented itself. This song has always been a calming one for me.
We moved into a pose (I don't remember the name) where our chest was raised up towards the ceiling and the stretch was allowing for an opening of the chest and it felt wonderful. The instructor started talking about opening our heart up to possibility. She talked about being willing to receive from the world what you put into it. She talked about how the universe is here to carry us and care for us and we receive what we put into it and if all we've put in is good then there is no need for us to fear what we will receive in return. At this point, I'm maintaining the stretch and hold of the position, and I'm looking skyward, and silent tears are streaming down my face. She goes on to say, "You are worthy to receive the good you put into the world. The only one holding you back from fully opening your heart to receive the good back, is yourself. Open your heart and receive." The stream of tears cascaded down my neck and my breathing was thrown off from my attempts to not audibly cry. I'm sniffling and maintaining my pose and the entire moment was so therapeutic for me.
There is no need for me to focus on the detail of why this moment was so groundbreaking for me. For those of you who have read my posts faithfully, we've been through a lot together. Based on the comments I've received on this blog and privately, I know that some of what I've talked about has resonated deeply with you, and so I say that we have been through a lot together. It's scary to open yourself up. It's scary to believe that there is still good out there when you've been burned so many times. It's scared to hope when your individual hope has gone to battle too many times to count. That's where I've been lately. Completely devoid of the desire to open up and try again. And this yoga class has really made me think.
Every person out there, at one time or another in their life, has had the desire to be something beyond what they think they are capable of. We all, for the most part, want to impact the world in a greater way than we've been impacted by it. That goes for the good and the bad. Experience, if not analyzed, can lead to pretty destructive behavior. But, if you are able to look at your experience and know that, in reality, that difficulty was exactly what you needed, and you move forward with that understanding, then you are giving back good into the universe. The only one holding me back right now, is me. I can have the love that I've given. I can have the joy and happiness that I've inspired in others. I can. And I will. I will because I haven't given up. I thought I had, but that's the thing about Hope, she never gives up. Hope is my heart and my heart is strong and unwavering.
The instructor ended the class with a quote that is so resonant to what 2013 and the theme of pink is for me and all that this year will inspire in my life. It's by William George Jordan, from his book The Majesty of Calmness. It goes:
"The only responsibility that a man cannot evade in this life is the one he thinks of least, his personal influence. Man's conscious influence, when he is on dress parade, when he is poising to impress those around him, is woefully small. But his unconscious influence, the silent, subtle radiation of his personality, the effect of his words and acts, the trifles he never considers, is tremendous. Every moment of life he is changing, to a degree, the life of the whole world. Every man has an atmosphere which is affecting every other. So silent and unconsciously is this influence working, that man may forget that it exists. Into the hands of every individual is given the marvelous power for good or for evil, the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of his life. This is simply the constant radiation of who a man really is, not what he pretends to be. Every man, by his mere living is radiating sympathy, or sorrow, or morbidness, or cynicism, or happiness, or hope, or any of a hundred other qualities. Life is a state of constant radiation and absorption; to exist is radiate. To exist is to be the recipient of radiations" (emphasis added).
You give what you get. Karma returns 10 fold. You receive what you radiate. However you want to say it, your unconscious effort is the most influential and impactful. This is important to remember. This quote is hanging on my cork board at work where I can see it every day.
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