The Born Identity

-->

As many of you know, I’m in graduate school earning a masters in counseling.  I’m loving (almost) every minute of this season in my life, but I must say that it’s not entirely what I expected. 

I expected psychology and am getting a lot of it.  History, theory, application, research, counseling techniques.  I expected an in depth exploration and analysis of the human psyche, complete with a richer understanding of emotional patterns reflecting in healthy or unhealthy relationships.  Expectations met!  I expected to consider and understand the human animal more clearly, more compassionately, more powerfully.  Yes, yes, and yes!

I didn’t, however, take into account that I am also a member of this human race.

The Bag

-->

Sunrise.

She blinked.  Another day.  She winced as she slowly sat up.  Her body hurt from sleeping on hard places.  Still a young woman, she was starting to feel old.  She glanced around her to see if anyone was watching then pulled two rolls out of her coat pocket and ate them in silence.  The sounds of hunger ceased.  The first rays of light reached her cheeks and feeling their faraway warmth, she shivered.  Standing up, she hoisted the Bag over her shoulder and shuffled out of the alley.

Rest 'n Peace

I remember a time in my 20s when I passed out cold in the middle of a meeting.

I was working somewhere between 60-70 hours a week, forgetting to eat, drinking lots of caffeine to keep me going, and ignoring all kinds of physical signs that my body was reaching a breaking point.  A very patient internist gave me a crash course on physical health after I'd come back to consciousness:

The body is made up of several systems: digestive, nervous, circulatory, respiratory, immune, skeletal, muscular, etc.  When one system is taxed, the others will compensate.  When all are overly taxed, the body starts shutting down.

That's the state I was in. EXHAUSTION.  SHUTTING DOWN.

Trying on Different Hats

Brief thoughts today... "The Female Animal" wasn't sitting well with me.  I started this blog at a time in my life when I was very humanistic, very in touch with my primitive side.  Hence the title.  But it's not me. 

All my life I've been searching for truth.  I seek it in relationships, in moments of time, in God and His revelation of Himself to me.  "Out of the Grey" represents what I try to do every day and the theme of my life.  Keep pushing through in search of truth, in search of pearls of wisdom.  Every once in a while, I find one ;)

So I beg your patience while I work out the title.  Who knows, in one week I'll name it "Bibby's Peanuts."  I don't know.  But this questioning and changing and finding the right fit is... coming out of the grey.  You get it. 

Thanks for your patience!

Out of the Grey

In two days I'll celebrate one year of walking with God.  I feel embarrassed that it's only been one year.  I was raised in the Seventh Day Adventist church from birth until age 17 and then did a stint in a radically fundamentalist (and otherwise very strange) church in New York for most of college and a few years after, so you would think I'd have some kind of track record in the faith by this point.  But I don't.  Those were not years of knowing God  but rather knowing about God.  I look back and see how He was trying to break through to me... through loving, compassionate people, through music.  I can remember moments of genuine Spiritual insight and perhaps a tingling of His presence, but it seems His gentle voice was consistently engulfed and drowned out by lists of things to do, people watching my every move, and the weekly schedule of services, meetings, and requirements.  I left the church and God  in May of 2003, and "walked in the grey" for eight long years.

New Tires

My last post on this blog was almost exactly one year ago. In that year I finished a major career project, got divorced, switched careers, and started a new life. So not a big year for me at all...

Looking behind me, (which is not something I spend too long doing) I suppose you could see it as a year in any one's life... filled with the normal and predictable assortment of laughter, tears, decisions, deliberations, progress, and regress. My sister once said of her birthday that it was one more cycle around the sun. Somehow that idea of a year in the life took away the pressure I unfailingly place on myself to achieve, accomplish, and take One Step Ahead. We are just spinning through space. We are just riding this blue and green ball while we spin around a star. So what really matters?

What matters is the journey of the heart. Yes, I could list all the achievements and failures of the past year, and "learn from them." And I do. But I look at what my heart has been through and this past year takes on a very different meaning. My heart began last year on a familiar road and then made two abrupt turns: one in my personal life and one in my professional life. So my heart is in new territory, exploring new terrain, but it's the same old heart. Kind of like taking your car on a dirt road when it's used to the safe and smooth ride of asphalt. I'm on the dirt road. I feel every rock and depression beneath my tires. I cough as the dust rises up to choke me and obscure my view. I clench my teeth and grip with my gut when the car takes an unexpected dip and I feel like I'm losing control at the wheel.

But I know this car... She's reliable. She's got her quirks and idiosyncrasies , but she'll start, she'll run, and she'll get me there.

And damn it, I know this heart. It is steadfast, loving, deeply passionate, and pure. It has its quirks, but I know how to get 'er going. I'm ready for the dust and the pot holes, the mud and the dips and hills ahead. I'm ready for the serene quiet of a deserted, forgotten road. Let the other hearts on the highway go speeding by - with purpose, motion, and power. I'm far away where you can't find me. I'm one hour off the interstate. I'm on the country road. And my city car isn't used to the rough ride, but she's reliable.

I'm thinking I'll probably need new tires though...

Women of Essence and Empty Coconuts

In my mother's obituary we wrote,
"Ines leaves behind Alexander, husband, four women of essence... and eight grandchildren..."

I don't remember the first time I heard the words "Woman of Essence", but I am certain it was used as the ultimate example of who I was to become, contrary to its polar opposite, the unthinkable "Empty Coconut." Let me explain...

A Woman of Essence is a woman of depth. A woman who cries real tears, often for others rather than for herself. She is poised, confident, knowledgeable, and warm. She is socially at ease but loves to talk deeply one on one. She is a woman of deep spirituality and strong convictions. She is a reader who loves to learn and a learner who loves to read. She is every heroine. This was the goal. And I was reminded of it at every opportunity. Now, the opposite...

The Empty Coconut is shallow. She was depicted by my mother as the "party girl." Always rushing off to the next soiree, desperately seeking a good time, and unwilling or unable to connect on the heart level. The Empty Coconut is unable to carry on meaningful conversations, is unread, uncultured, and uninterested in such things. Her conversation is generally about what has happened within the last week, not the last century. She gives her body too freely but doesn't feed her mind. (Why were these loose and unimpressive women called Empty Coconuts? My Colombian-born mother was known to butcher English idioms, or invent her own when none in our language sufficed. Empty Coconut is one example of such an invention.)

My mother never told us stories about heroines and notable women like Joan of Arc or Queen Elizabeth. Helen Keller or Clara Barton. I learned about those women in school. But still, she effectively conveyed an idea that made its mark on my mind. It inspired me to offer my best in moments when compromising my ideals seemed the easiest route. It caused me to hold on to my morals, values, and good judgment even when I had let go of religion. The people in my life feel the deep love a Woman of Essence shares. But...

But sometimes it's nice to be an Empty Coconut!

Being a Woman of Essence is a daily responsibility. It's like a job. But it can also make one a little too serious, a little too deep, a little too... oh, I don't know... essential?

I've always envied the Empty Coconuts a little. Okay, a lot. They seem to have more fun. They laugh about things that a Woman of Essence might not find funny, but they seem to be laughing more. I don't envy the consequences of promiscuity, but I marvel at the freedom. I envy those who find community easily, who need less emotional intensity in order to bond, who aren't looking for other heroes and heroines to get a beer with, just other people. And I love shallow, just for shallow's sake. Because life is heavy, and dealing with it head on is necessary, but exhausting. And sometimes fashion rags are better than literature.

So perhaps what I seek and maybe should have been taught is to seek a balance. So here goes...

If you reading this are a Woman of Essence (you know...), then may we all find our moments of Empty Coconut-headed-ness and enjoy them fully!

If you reading this are an Empty Coconut (be honest...), then may you find your inner Woman of Essence, nurture her, and never be afraid to hold yourself to high standards. You are worth it.

And may we all find and practice balance.

(And that, I think, is being a Woman of Essence.)