refuge.

i’m reading terry tempest williams’ refuge again, looking for a bit of insight into finding peace within myself when external sources of peace seem lost to me.  i read it the first time as an undergrad at BYU for an assignment in an english course.  my group members and i drove up to the bear river migratory bird refuge to bird watch and take pictures for our presentation.  it was beautiful—a brisk, early spring day with a breeze and bright sunshine.  as we drove into the refuge a flock of redwing blackbirds rose into the sky.  there were hundreds of beautiful tundra swans swimming.  and it was clear why this magical place had been a source of refuge, not only for wild birds, but also for its human visitors.

as i re-read, i’m interested in what i found significant enough to mark on my first time through.  a handful of quotes have drawn enough notice that i’ve marked them again.  some leave me a bit mystified as to what i saw in them.  so far i’ve only found one piece of marginalia that goes beyond underlining.  williams recounts a family gathering soon after her mother tells them she has cancer.  the men in the family gather around to give her a blessing.  williams writes:

'kneeling next to my grandmother, mimi, i felt her strength and the generational history of belief Mormon ritual holds.  we can heal ourselves, i thought, and we can heal each other.'

i underlined that last line and in the margin wrote: 'not quite—god heals us when we have faith.  i wonder if she’s still active.'

when i read my little bit of marginalia, a deep wave of shame washed over me.  not shame at my belief that god heals us through faith.  i still believe in the healing power of faith in god.  but because i read williams’ words as heretic enough that i judged her as 'not quite' right in her views and questioned her standing in the church.

looking back on my note after a decade, i see in my younger self some of the very tendencies that most upset me about mormon culture and attitudes.  we are so confident in our own understanding of the world, that we forget that our knowledge is incomplete.  that simply because we know—or think we know—one thing, doesn’t preclude the possibility of truth in other ideas or understandings.  as my own understandings of mormon teachings have deepened and become nuanced, i have often been frustrated at the closed forum of mormon meetings.  too often our sunday meetings are about reiterating prescribed understandings, rather than exploring the gospel’s possibilities.  and my soul hungers for the opportunity for that exploration.

when i re-read 'we can heal ourselves, i thought, and we can heal each other,' i no longer saw misunderstanding.  instead i saw revelation and i underlined the words again.

i've been making big decisions lately.  which i'm not going to go into much here.  not yet, anyway.  suffice it to say they've been stressful.  i find myself needing stress relief almost constantly--something that will keep myself a bit busy but without being too taxing.  so i've been stitching.  a lot.  crocheting, specifically.

last summer i decided i wanted to make my own version of an afghan of my mother's that i've always loved.  it was made by my great-grandmother.  and my mama told me it's called grandma's garden--a very fitting name:

so i did a bit of searching online for patterns, which helped me figure out a few basics like how to get started and how to make corners.  and, since my mom taught me to crochet nearly twenty years ago, i needed to brush up on my basics.  and then i sat down with my great-grandma's afghan and figured out the pattern.

it's been very therapeutic to have something beautiful to stitch at the last six months.  life hasn't felt very beautiful, so it's good to watch yarn unspool off a skein and turn into beautifully colored flowers in my hands.  and i love that these flowers will connect me to my grandmothers who created so much beauty themselves.

mosaic

a few months ago, my friend jana posted a photo mosaic meme that i loved.  and then a few days ago another friend posted hers.  and i remembered that i hadn't posted mine yet.  so i spent a few minutes this afternoon and made my own photo mosaic.  i think it's lovely.

 

1. Amelias Flower, 2. Goat Cheese Making 101, 3. Descanso dos arreios, 4. Walking on Glass - Pismo Beach, California, 5. Self Portrait, reflected. San Miguel de Allende, 6. a new school year, 7. April Showers, 8. October kitchen windowsill, 9. White flock, 10. Yellow ribbon, 11. Olé !, 12. Untitled

if you want to play, here's how:

type your answer to each of the questions below into a flickr search. using only the first page, choose your favorite image, then copy and paste each of the URL’s into the mosaic maker (3 columns, 4 rows). leave a comment if you play, so i can have a peek.

The questions:

1. what is your first name? (amelia)
2. what is your favorite food? (cheese)
3. what high school did you attend? (estancia)
4. what is your favorite color? (red)
5. who is your celebrity crush? (johnny depp)
6. favorite drink? (dr. pepper)
7. dream vacation? (european tour)
8. favorite dessert? (pumpkin pie)
9. what do you want to be when you grow up? (happy)
10. what do you love most in life? (peace)
11. one word to describe you. (passionate)
12. your flickr name. (laughtear)

sleep.

two months ago, i couldn't sleep more than three hours at a time.  most nights i'd get between three and five hours of (disrupted) sleep.  six hours!!  that felt like heaven, even if it was disrupted.  six weeks ago, i was  getting between four and six hours a night, but it remained disrupted because i'd wake up every single night at 4:30.  a month ago, i was dependent on sleep medication to get any sleep.  which also meant that if i didn't go to bed early enough, my day the next day was a bit of a disaster.

and now?  now i sleep eight hours easily with no sleep meds.  it feels beautiful.  but it's a problem.  because i sleep my eight hours and then turn off my alarm and sleep another two.  or three.  i've never slept so much in my life.  i blame the sun.  or the absence thereof.  i get no sunlight in my new room, so it's easy to slide back into sleep in the mornings.

damn sleep!  it's stressing me out.  but i think i found the solution: an $8 alarm clock from ikea with a progressively more annoying alarm located underneath my loft bed so i have to actually get out of bed to turn it off.  so far it's worked wonders.

love.

one afternoon a couple years ago, i stopped short on my walk back to my car after teaching.  as i had walked up the stairs, this had caught my eye:

i was so struck by these simple words that i stopped, dug out my camera, and snapped a picture.  i ran across the picture tonight and again the phrase's simple power struck me.

this is what i want of life--love.  i want to be loved.  i want to love.  romantically, yes, but in so many other ways, too.  it's such a simple desire, really.  but it's so elusive.  and looking at this image i think i understand part of what makes it elusive. because this phrase functions doubly--it's both an imperative and a request.  a statement of what others must do and an asking for what one needs.

i think it's the double nature of love that makes it so difficult.  being able to put down fear (even well-founded fear) and ask means making ourselves vulnerable to another person and simultaneously making that person vulnerable to us.  because to ask for love of another is to request, but it's also to require.  i believe it's worth it.  because i believe that love which not only requests but also requires is adequate to any challenge.

buzzed.

yesterday i was called 'sir' for the first time in a long time.  which is not at all surprising, since, at the moment, i look like this:  

a friend gave me a fresh buzz on tuesday.  buzzing my hair started as a form of silent protest, but continues beyond the election because i like it.  i like the $60/haircut it saves me (that's nearly $200 in savings in the last five months).  but mostly i like the way it feels and looks.

there's an honesty in buzzing my hair off.  on some level, i'm saying, 'what you see is what you get.  and you know what?  i like what you see; i'm not going to try to hide it.'  that's incredibly liberating for me.  after starting college, having perfect hair became, for me, a means of compensating for my face.  when i have hair of any length, i get a bit obsessive with making sure it looks just right.  and that it doesn't get mussed over the course of the day.  buzzing it off means i couldn't worry about my hair's perfection if i want to.

of course, i do wonder if buzzing my hair isn't just another way of making sure people don't notice my face.  i am noticed when i buzz my hair.  some of that notice makes me laugh.  like when i get called sir.  or when a sweet old lady in the temple asked me if i was glad my hair was growing back in; and then, when she noticed my confusion, added, "or is it just a cool, easy style for summer?'  i laugh about such notice.  i kind of enjoy messing with people's perceptions about gender.

but the notice i get isn't all comic.  both this week and the last time i buzzed it (about two months ago), i have noticed more men looking at me than usual (this could be a factor of my noticing their attention more; but j(wh) trained me to recognize flirtatious interest so i don't think it's that).  some of the looks are questioning.  buzzed-head-as-oddity.  but some of them are flirtatious--as if a woman with the confidence to buzz her hair is sexually intriguing.

i don't really know what to ultimately make of the increased notice--whether it's just curiosity or whether it's attraction; whether it's only focused on my (lack of) hair or focused on my face; whether it's really about depriving myself of a hiding place or making that hiding place even better.  what i do know is that i like the way i feel when i buzz my hair.  i think i'll keep doing it.  at least for now.

proud.

last night i went to target.  target is wonderful.  a haven.  i can take any problem to target and find some distraction.  so when i found myself sitting around, feeling a bit glum (isn't that a lovely word?), i decided to get out of the house and go pick up a few required items for my new apartment (i moved--yay!).  and you know what?  i'm proud of myself for going to target.  that's right.  proud of myself.  for going to target.

i know, i know.  target isn't much better (if at all) than those other big-box stores.  consumerism is bad.  retail therapy is bad.  yada yada.  but i'm still proud of myself.  because i could continue sitting on my rear end, wishing somehow my computer would connect me to a real live person (which i'd already been doing for well over an hour); or i could get off my rear end and engage.  with something.  anything.  even if it was just going to target to buy a trashcan with a lid on it so my new kitchen doesn't stink.

you know what else i'm proud of?  when i was at target, i resisted spending $65 on the only wireless router that looked reliable just because i want wireless at my new place RIGHT NOW, not in a few days.  instead, i put it back on the shelf and, when i got home, did a bit of research about wireless routers and where to get the best prices (any suggestions? i'm still figuring this one out).  and i'm proud of myself for buying a compact fluorescent lightbulb because it's good for the environment.  even if i dislike CFL's because the light they generate feels cold to me.  and i'm proud of myself that the biggest indulgence of this trip to target was a compact surge protector with a built in USB charger so i can charge my phone while having my computer, lamp, and printer plugged in all at once.

this is what i hold on to right now.  small things.  i've done a lot of small things in the last couple of months of which i'm proud.  sometimes it's as simple as calling someone--just connecting to another person.  sometimes it's working--having actual ideas about actual literature.  sometimes it's eating.  i'm proud of myself for eating.  how's that for a window into how bad things have been?

things have been bad enough that i have, in many ways, not been myself.  i don't know what i would have done had i not had such incredible people loving me, helping see me through.  but i haven't made it only because of the people who have helped me.  as a friend pointed out , i am also one of my sources of support.  i'm proud of myself for more than just little things.  i'm proud of myself for big things, too.  because in the last two months i've done more to change my life than i have in the last two years.  i'm not happy about how things are right now.  i'm not happy that my relationship with j(wh) is over.  or with the outcome of the prop. 8 ballot measure.  i'm not happy in my relationship with my church.  there are a lot of things that could be much, much better.  but i can say this much--i'm happy with myself.  i'm happy that, with my family and friends' love, i have made significant changes in my life that have brought me greater peace now and which, i have no doubt, will bring happiness in the future.

scheduled.

if you've followed my blog for any long amount of time (and i doubt many have), you may have noticed that i disappear sometimes.  every single one of those disappearances has had to do with depressive episodes.  or, as i now think of them, mixed episodes.  mixed because my depression manifests itself through some manic tendencies--not needing sleep; not needing food; aggressiveness; irritability; etc.  my recent disappearance has been no different.  it has several causes, this episode.  the most clearly defined is j(wh) breaking up with me.  which has been horrendous.  i won't put that specific word in his mouth, but i know it's been very hard on him, too.  it's not a pretty thing, ending a relationship.  of course, that's not the only cause of this particular episode.  there's been the recent election, with accompanying emotional extremes--elation over obama's victory and discouragement over prop. 8's success.  and all of the ways my relationship with the church and friends and family are caught up in that.

i've refused to write because i knew i would be tempted to write about all of that.  breaking up.  the church and prop. 8.  being sad.  my family and prop. 8.  being angry.  ad nauseum ad infinitum.  and i didn't really want to do that to anyone who reads what i write.  plus i wasn't sure what, if any, of that i want out in the ether.  so i've avoided blogging.

so why am i here tonight?  apparently talking about the very things i said i didn't want to talk about?  i'm here because i decided to add blogging back into the schedule of activities that has helped keep me a little sane the last couple of months.  and it has been a schedule.

there are the scheduled interactions with other people:

• lunch with the thai tuesday crew almost every tuesday
  
• lunch with grad student friends every wednesday
• dinner with george almost every wednesday
• talking to JP every week
• attending quaker meeting once a month
  

and the scheduled minutiae  

• waking up early to plan a lesson before class every MWF
• organizing my medicine every monday into a little pill case so i can take it every day
• planning my week every sunday
• weekly appointments to take better care of my health
• walking to and from campus MWF (and occasionally in between)
• crying (which has happened with unfortunate frequency; so much so that it sometimes feels scheduled)
  

and there's the things that should join the schedule:

• tea with J.  because we've done it twice in the last couple of weeks and it's such a pleasure.
• dancing.  which i haven't been able to do because of the side effects of new medications. but i'm getting a handle on those, so i should be able to dance again.
• bike riding.  because i know it would be good for me, body and soul.
• going to the grad student knitting group.  because i have projects to work on.  and talk is good.  and new friends are always a good thing.
• baking my own bread.  mmmyummy.  i'll even have my own sour dough start soon.
• blogging.  because i miss writing about my world.

so look for more posts soon.  tomorrow a post about the things i've done in the last couple of months of which i'm proud.  because there's enough of which i'm not proud that i want to remind myself that i haven't been a complete loss.

and finally, if you've been involved in any of the above, god bless you--you have no idea how much it's meant to me.

comfort.

this morning, i almost cried in front of my students.  it's been a bit of a rough weekend.  george helped see me through it with kindness and love and food and shopping and even some laughter.  and i was feeling okay this morning until i had to talk to someone about it again right before getting to class.  so i showed up in class a little emotional.  and had to apologize to my students for distributing some information late.  and before i knew it i was tearing up again.  i hate such things.  it's only happened once before--last spring when i was so sick that i got lightheaded and felt like i was close to passing out while i was teaching.  i don't mind showing a weakness i can laugh about--like throwing up on the first day of class.  but the other ones--the ones that scare me a bit--those are harder.

after class was over, one of my students asked if she could talk to me apart from the other after-class hangers-on, so i asked her to wait a moment while i answered the others' questions.  once they'd all left, she surprised me.  instead of asking about our current paper or the homework, she said, "you seem like such a beautiful person.  and i can tell you're not feeling up to your best.  i'm sorry things are hard right now."  and she gave me a hug.  if i were feeling particularly cynical, i suppose i could attribute this to brown-nosing.  but her eyes glossed over with tears while she was speaking and i have no doubt it was sincere.  this evening i checked my email only to find a message from another student expressing sympthy.  and i find myself feeling comforted by these simple gestures of kindness and support.

peace.

caveat (always fun to start with one): the first couple lines of this post might make it sound like a downer.  it won't be. 

the last five weeks have been hard.  downright horrible, to be honest.  but i'm not going to explain that any further here (those of you who deserve to know either already do know or have contact info you can use to ask me).  i'm not through the horrible stuff.  i'm not sure when i will be.  but i've discovered that when life gets yucky, it helps to consciously identify the good things.  so here are a few things that have brought me peace in the last few weeks:

• warm baguette with butter in the company of friends.
• an hours-long film adaptation of a victorian novel which stars beautiful men. also in the company of a friend.
• the love of a woman who hardly knows me but noticed my pain and hugged me while i cried.
• home-cooked meals, decadent ice cream, all my favorite treats, and a refuge offered by still other friends.
• making the acquaintance of a hummingbird who hovered a foot and a half in front of me for an endless moment when life felt dark.  and then a similar encounter with a bumbling-buzzing black bee.
• my mama hugging me and crying with me.
• planning another roadtrip to the bay area--wonderful company sharing wonderful food, music, and bookstores.
• an afternoon spent wandering a beautiful garden and perusing old books followed by singaporean food for dinner and a girls' night out to the movies.
  
• weekly lunches with fellow grad students.
• finding myself a new apartment and planning my move.
• trying to live with more integrity.  no matter how painful it might make some situations.
• laughing at tina fey's brilliant riffs on sarah palin.
• thai therapy on thai tuesdays.  trust me, it's amazingly effective.  
• letting myself dance even if i have felt rather miserable.
• letting myself vent all the emotion through tears and rage.
  
• sharing meals and conversation with george.
• a new batch of students who seem eager to participate and succeed.
• knowing that i'm taking care of myself.
• crazy bunnies playing chicken with my car at night.  they made me laugh and i figure laughter adds to peace.

life kind of sucks at the moment.  but the world is beautiful.  and people are wonderful.  and i am loved.  and that certainly brings peace.

simplicity.

a few weeks ago i wrote that i wanted life to be simple. and last night i found simplicity. i texted j(wh) late yesterday afternoon and, instead of the stereotypical dinner-and-a-movie, i proposed dinner and a bookstore. so we ate delicious food. and then we wandered through the aisles of borders, browsing through books about everything from politics to birds to hippos-with-glued-on-shoes and relationships. and, when the music on the loudspeakers got a bit bluesy, we danced in the aisle.

and there was my simplicity. two hours in the company of my love. and, when he had to go back to work and i drove home, i took joy and peace with me.

bedtime.

i've been keeping late hours the last couple of weeks, thanks to the olympics and being on vacation with my family. last night my sister J and i spent our evening playing with her girls and watching the olympics (or at least i was ogling the beautiful men on the U.S. track team). which meant bedtime wasn't until well after midnight.

i climbed into bed about one in the morning but found myself tossing and turning a bit. so i pulled out my computer to read a few of the blog posts i'd not had a chance to read (due to excursions to the park to have a picnic and ride the horsies [i.e., carousel], playing princess dress up, swinging small girls by their ankles, etc.). maybe it was a mistake to try to pass a bit of time that way, because it got my mind whirring. again.

all day yesterday, my frustrations and tension and pain over the church's position on california's proposition 8 (which would amend the state constitution to prohibit any marriage but that between a man and a woman) bubbled under the surface. let me be perfectly clear: i find this proposition repugnant in every way. i believe it originates in bigotry. i believe it attempts to deny citizens of the state liberties that the government should protect and preserve, rather than remove. there is no question in my mind that every citizen should have the opportunity to enter into a civil marriage contract with another consenting adult and to therefore receive the protections and privileges governments grant to married couples.

the day i heard the news that the california state supreme court had overturned prop. 22 (passed nearly ten years ago) and therefore declared marriage legal for all california adults regardless of sexual orientation, i celebrated. and the day i learned the church planned to join in the effort to pass prop. 8, i mourned. on the day (coincidentally--coughcough--gay pride day) the letter from church headquarters regarding prop. 8 was read in church, i went to church wearing a rainbow ribbon and with a freshly buzzed head--two visible attempts to declare my disagreement with the church's actions without being too confrontational.

since then, i've continued to display my rainbow ribbon when i go to church. and i'll keep my hair buzzed through the november election. but it's not enough. last fast sunday, in the midst of incredible spiritual turmoil at least in part caused by this issue, i bore my testimony about what i believe is the true miracle of christ's atonement--that it teaches us to look past people's problems to recognize their beauty; to step outside of ourselves and extend love and compassion and understanding to all people, regardless of their gender or their race or their religion. for me the gospel of christ is a gospel of love and acceptance—one that requires that we stretch ourselves to understand how and why people think differently than we do. for me, the gospel of Christ is not one of imposing our own beliefs on others or of believing our job is to make everyone else like ourselves. but while i think i made that point fairly clearly, i did not specifically mention prop. 8 and gay marriage, in spite of a powerful desire to do so.

then last week a member of my ward called to confirm i'd received an email about the "prop. 8 walk." i hadn't, but rather than mentioning that, i immediately spoke up to explain my position. the conversation went something like this:

me: i think i should clarify that i will not only vote no on prop. 8, but i will also do everything i can to make sure it does not pass. and i will certainly not do anything that could be seen as support.

him: so you're going against the brethren on this. {definitely a statement, not a question.}

me: no, i’m going with my conscience on this.

him: but you’re going against the brethren.

me: no, i’m going with my conscience, which is what i believe god expects of us.

him: hey, i don’t want to argue with you—i’m just kidding around. {trust me, there was no hint of humor in any of this exchange.}

and that’s where the conversation ended. when this man’s committee chairperson—an old friend of mine—called a few days later to ensure that the first caller hadn’t said anything inappropriate, i explained what he had said. my friend apologized. i asked him for clarification on what the “prop. 8 walk” was and clarified my own belief on the issue. because i’ve decided that i can certainly speak up in one-on-one conversations with other church members, even if i haven’t quite figured out how to speak up in institutional church settings.

i still feel that what i've done is not enough. and last night that was causing me a great deal of angst. so much that in spite of being very tired, i could not sleep. so when i was still tossing and turning after three in the morning, i called j(wh) and we talked through some of what i was feeling. not only about prop. 8, but about the church more generally. i won't go into that here. i'm not sure it's something i want to put out into the ether. we'll see. but it was good to talk to him, to name my fears to someone else and receive in return unqualified love and concern.

and best of all, when we were about done talking he read me a bedtime story and encouraged me to hope for something that seems nearly impossible--because maybe, just maybe, the horse will sing. another reason i love my j(wh).

life.

sometimes all i want is for life to be simple. very simple. if you know how to find simplicity, do share.

open.

nearly ten years ago i graduated from BYU and moved to virginia to get a masters degree at UVA. i remember sitting in the welcome meeting for new graduate students and feeling a bit of culture shock. the most memorable catalyst for that culture shock was the DGS (director of graduate studies), a very hip man who taught african american studies and late 20th century pop culture--a man with long hair (a definite no-no at the Y) and colorful language (another no-no). i think he had a goatee, too. i wonder if he had a beard card signed by his medical provider...

that first semester at UVA was full of all kinds of new experiences. my first party, by which is meant a lot of people getting together to drink and talk with loud music playing in the background. my first wine & cheese gathering. my first outing to a bar for drinks. my first attempts at explaining mormon peculiarities to drunk people. my first whiff of pot. my first taste of thai food, vegetarian food, and cooked spinach. my first cocktail party (at which i was dubbed the 'mormon alice cooper' for reasons that remain entirely unclear to me).

i embraced every new experience that presented itself so long as it didn't require that i do something that contradicted my own standards. i made a very conscious choice that i would welcome any advance of friendship. for the first time in my life i lived far away from family (only two hours from my oldest brother, but without a car that was a fairly insurmountable distance). i was starting a new educational venture. and i knew that if i didn't build a supportive network for myself in charlottesville i would be miserable.

i didn't end up miserable. i ended up so happy that i wanted to never leave. i made wonderful friends at church. and i made wonderful friends at school. some of my friends from virginia remain among my dearest friends. i wouldn't trade the experiences we shared for anything.

once in a while, when i've described my experiences in charlottesville to other mormons, they've been surprised that i would go out to a bar on a friday night as a regular social activity. or that i would go to what was essentially a slightly grown up version of a kegger. that i wouldn't immediately leave a party when i smelled marijuana. that i laughed about the cross-dressing that i witnessed at a "shock your mom" party (one of the funniest nights ever) rather than being horrified. that when my boyfriend in virginia said 'f*** you' to me, i usually laughed at him because it was never said in anger but rather as part of a teasing that helped make our relationship happy.

i don't want to simply condemn people who would have refused to participate in such activities. i know that different people have different tolerance levels for different things. i respect that. but i think that a lot of people also create their own offense by focusing on something they consider unacceptable rather than looking past it. in my mind, it's far better to hear someone swear without it ruining my day or foreclosing the possibility of knowing that person, and the happiness that friendship with them might bring, than to try to shut myself off from all sources of behavior i deem inappropriate for myself.

what it boils down to for me is this: i want to know and love my world. all of it, not just that part that fits my preconceived notion of good. and focusing on the things i do not like so much that i fail to see wonderful new things or old things in new ways--well, that strikes me as the best way to refuse to know and love my world. and it seems to me that when we're so tuned in to potential sources of offense, we actually grant them much more control of our minds and spirits than they would have if instead we let them roll off our backs and instead we looked for the beautiful.

give.

for anyone who's looking for a gift idea for me, i'd love this:


and it's a double gift--something i'd love to listen to and support for NPR. and we all know i'm an NPR junkie.