I shake my fist

Don't you hate it when you hear someone say something that you know is true, you want to deny their validity, and then they prove their point well after the fact? It's possible that you have no idea what I'm talking about. It's also possible that I just make no sense.

But it makes sense to me.

The worst is when that person hasn't the slightest clue that you are even at odds with them - so it makes you feel that much worse when they turn out to be right.

All this to say - curse Dan Allender. Not really. He's one of my professors and is a brilliant and thoughtful man. But, damn, I really hate when he's right! One of the classes that I took from him, which he co-taught with Steve Call, was Marriage and Family last Spring. A focal point in his teaching here was on the curse that men and women face, and continue to face, as a result of the Fall (Gen. 3). While men and women certainly have the capacity to carry most of the same characteristics, his argument is that men carry the slightest bit more strength, while women carry the slightest bit more tenderness than one another. ((I'm going to attempt spare you the entire term's worth of material while still being clear here)). Dan claims that because of this minimal, yet significant, difference between men and women, the result of the Fall is that men will forever struggle with futility while women will struggle with loneliness. Loneliness and futility - the plagues of humanity.

I wanted him to be wrong. Oh, I wanted him to be so wrong. But I knew he was right - even before I got married.

So, now I'm married. And these dynamics are exploding all over the place in our little one bedroom apartment. I have to tell you, these first few weeks (now months) of marriage have been terribly lonely for me. Not necessarily because of anything T is or isn't, but I have felt an ache and longing for the women that I lived with last year in the House of Love that has been unexpectedly incapacitating. I weep often over the loss of that house and the community that they were with me. That group of women was something so uniquely rich and I know there will be nothing else ever like them. Facing this fact head on, while staring my "forever" commitment in the face over the dinner table, has been difficult to bear.

T has been such a dear support during this difficult transition. I knew I would miss that house, but I thought I was ready. I thought I was ready to get married, but what I didn't realize was how not ready I was to give up those women. Obviously I can't have it all. I don't regret for a second saying "I do" to my wonderful, patient, and compassionate husband, but my heart is grieving over that significant loss. Unfortunately for T, this means that his efforts are futile. There is absolutely nothing he can do or say to be that house. He can't be a women, he certainly can't be four women, and God knows he can't be those four women. T knows that, I know that. But it's a nasty pill for us both to try and swallow. He wants to be everything; I want him to be everything. There don't seem to be very many instances in a marriage in which both hubby and wifey completely agree on something; so when we do, why can't we have it?

I know the answer and I hate it.

Dan Allender - I shake my fist at you. (And then shudder with utmost respect and admiration). If I didn't mention it already, this is the same fellow who is also teaching my current Sexual Disorders class. He packs a punch.

So I am grieving. That's all there is to it. In order to aid in my grieving process, or perhaps prolong it, I have lots of great memories to reflect on. Below is a photo from an epic final sleepover at a Days Inn hotel before Natalie and I left for San Francisco (I tried to give you the video diary that we recorded that night, but my computer just wasn't having it. So sorry, a photo will have to do). Our last hurrah in Seattle all together! I love these women.

From one of my favorite poets, Rainer Maria Rilke's "Requiem for a Friend:"

We need, in love, to practice only this:

letting each other go.

For holding on comes easily;

we do not need to learn it.

This is BIG

Finally.

There is something big happening.

This is such an exciting time for me as I am beginning to see where my passions can be and are connected. Several of my classes this term are pointing me toward my love for music (and the arts) as well as my love for knowing and being with people.

My faithful 4 readers, you have heard of the difficulty of the Sexual Disorders class this term. I am so grateful to those of you that have sent encouragement my way during class time! You have no idea how powerful that is for me. On a different note from that class, I was given the opportunity to participate in a unique research project for this class in which I would be helping create a type of training manual for volunteers traveling to underdeveloped countries to work with victims of slavery; their initial focus being on juvenile prostitution-related trauma. The other part of this research is centered around the use of art, specifically music, to help treat these young victims.

So I signed up.

After much deliberation within the group of students participating and also with the folks whom we are doing this research for, I was finally able to settle on a (rough) topic: drum circles as related to the healing power of group therapy for juvenile trauma victims.

For those of you that may not realize the GRAVITY of that topic in my life - it's EARTH SHATTERING. As someone whose life-long dream is to one day be a member of the percussion group, STOMP, this couldn't be more invigorating. I'm writing a research paper on drum circle therapy.

((Excuse me while I do a little jig.))

A quote from A General Theory on Love, a textbook for Human Growth and Development, somehow puts into words what I often feel: that I can't express myself in such a way that is satisfying to me by just using words. You may not realize, but just having a blog is very difficult for me because I often don't feel like I'm saying what I really want to say. This is where music and artistic expression come in for me. This is why I need to play, hear, experience, and exude it.

The verbal rendition of emotional material thus demands a difficult transmutation. And so people must strain to force a strong feeling into the straitjacket of verbal expression. Often as emotionality rises, so do sputtering, gesticulation, and mute frustration. Poetry, a bridge between the neocortical and limbic brains, is simultaneously improbable and powerful. Frost wrote that a poem ‘beings as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a love sickness. It is never a thought to begin with.’

Lewis, et. al, A General Theory of Love, p. 34

In addition to this project, my Theology class has been mind-blowing as well. My professor is a professional musician and has been teaching somewhat of a "musical theology" that has absolutely exploded the way I think about God, my relationship to God, and how God interacts with Godself and creation.

So we're reading Henri Nouwen's Return of the Prodigal Son, in which I am continually reminded of Frost's quote from above - experiencing "a homesickness" that is unexplainable. There aren't words for it, just a guttural, visceral longing.

Then we're learning about Trinitarian Theology in relation to Musical Space - trying to understand the Divine Trinity through music. She plays us parts of a Bach fugue to demonstrate that hearing a chord played on an instrument is a similar experience to the economic existence of the Trinity: how it works. Just because three different notes are played at the same time, doesn't make one not exist anymore. Actually, multiples notes being played together create a fuller, richer sound that fills the room. But just as three notes fill the room, so does a single note...

Stick with me.

...So that, "a different way of thinking about space is possible...a kind of space which is not the space of mutual exclusion but space as relational, a space which allows for overlapping and inter-penetration."

Jeremy Begbie

And also, “Tones relate to one another….Noises, odors, do not related to one another. They are connected only in my consciousness, not among themselves; they simply encounter me. Tones, on the contrary, encounter not only me but one another…in music, we experience space as order.”

Zuckerkandl, Sound & Symbol.

So here, this means that the different beings of the Trinity, like musical notes, actually draw in to one another. Somehow, in their perfection, they create the space for one another that not only allows for distinction and differentiation, but also for uniqueness. So that when their "chord" is played, we hear three distinct notes, but also one resonant sound.

Maybe this makes sense, maybe it doesn't. But essentially, for me, this is helping me understand myself in an entirely new way. A way that feels affirming; that the way I am, the way I operate makes sense. That because I think musically, and I connect differently to these things in a way that other people seem not to, might just be ok. It may actually be of God.

Who would have thought?

Things are moving.

last day in San Fran

Adrienne, Natalie and I made a visit to THE ROCK, otherwise known as Alcatraz. It was so great! Definitely worth the ticket.

It's a bunch of SEALS on those boat slips!

Artistic attempt to get Essien and Adrienne on my shades.

Yesss. Delicious Saxon sandwich.

"For your safety, please do not climb on the big noodle."

All right.

THE ROCK has been through several stages. First, used

as a base during the Civil War, then was a federal prison, and lastly

taken over by Native Americans during the 1960s.

The morgue! Interestingly enough, the only people buried

here were U.S. soldiers; any prisoners who died at

Alcatraz were sent back to their families to be buried.

Shoe shining station.

Showering room

"D Block" - cells and solitary confinement

for the really, really bad guys.

...and road-trip day 3 - around San Fran

Essien enjoying our delightful pancakes.

This art is mind-blowing!

You know, just hangin out on the side of a sweet building.

I mean truly amazing.

Delores Park at sunset.

Luring the children with bubbles at Delores Park.

We're pretty entertained by the Woodstock-ness of this park.

Ohh...stereotypes.

A man proud of his little pants and everything that

he had to display.

Nat trying to look normal as the man with little pants

passed by in our photo.

We climbed to the top of San Fran's Everest!

We were in search of a needle-in-a-haystack of a Mexican restaurant.

And I thought Seattle hills were tough...

A Few from Roadtrip Day Two

Hello California! Great to see you. Too bad you're

much too similar to Seattle for my liking. It ended up raining

for our drive through Northern California, meaning it was really

tough to spend much time in the Redwood Forrest.

It was beautiful, though. We got soaked; but listening to that rain

while walking through a forrest of those massive trees was

a wonderful experience. We were walking among ancient history.

Living beings, thousands of years old. Creaking, soaking up

rain, standing in strong resilience.

Beautiful friend.

Hooray Redwoods!

Hooray beauty!

Swank.

Wine Country.

Nat and I stopped at a winery an hour outside of

San Francisco to sample some local wine.

Such a great day!

A few from day uno of the roadtrip

((We arrived in San Francisco tonight! These photos, however, are from yesterday on our drive through Washington and Oregon. More info on our travels from Day 2 to come)).

Note that all of the photos from this trip are taken from Natalie's Canon Rebel DSI. The one I dream of owning one day. Thankfully, she is lovely enough to surrender it to my control often.

We made a shrine on the dash for the House of Love.

It included this "YAYA" sign that was in our house

last year (that Dana graciously gave to Natalie upon her

departure from Seattle), a photo of the House of Love in our

matching redcoats, and various other nick-nacks that were

significant to us.

Note: winter apparently arrived early in Seattle. This was the

state of affairs as we left - rain rain rain rain rain rain.

Somewhere in the-middle-of-nowhere, WA.

Myself in conversation.

My peach in conversation.

Portland!

So beautiful!

Logs.

Logs, logs, logs.

Nat and I both agreed that there was something

different about the Oregon sky. I said it felt like

the clouds were closer to the ground.

Something was different - and it was so breathtaking.

Lodging like royalty in Grants Pass, OR. At least

they had continental breakfast.

Cali

Click to enlarge.

Oh, and just so you know, Mom -

...I started eating cucumbers.

By themselves.

I think you should throw me a party.

Gettin' into it

Last week T and I hosted a Mars Hill "Neighborhood Dinner" which they organize a couple of times a year for the students to get to know the other students/their families that live close by. So great! It was the first time we had gotten the chance to really open our home and truly "host." (Other than my buddy, Natalie, who is just sort of part of the family around here). So, while T was at work, I stayed and domesticated the crap out of myself. I'm talkin' crock pot, cleaning, baking, vacuuming. Too bad I forgot to whip out the apron.

Cheesecake recipe

Hand-crushed graham cracker and walnut crust

Yumster vanilla filling - I couldn't get it smooth to save my life.

I'll have to make more for perfection.

Exhaustion after making cheesecake.

That's some hard work.

Mm...and chocolate on top.

The aftermath of my cooking extravaganza.

(Note the glass of milk and PB&J that I rewarded myself with).

Five and a half hours! Vegetable casserole crazy.

Unfortunately I was too embarrassed to ask our guests to take pictures, so I don't have documentation of them. But there were 10 people over here! If you recall the diagram of our apartment that I posted a couple of months back, 10 people is A LOT of people. Plus a baby. But it was so so great. T and I even got to know a couple that's just a few years older than us that live only blocks away. We really hit it off with them, so we're hoping to have made some couple-friends. It's weird how that's sort of a requirement now.

Ironically enough, I had actually met this couple when I visited Mars Hill for the first time back in November of 2008. I had dinner with them and we talked for a really long time. Then, I didn't see them when school started last fall, so I assumed they decided not to come. So when they walked through our door last week, the Rolodex of my brain went a-reelin'. When it finally clicked, I couldn't believe they were standing in front of me! It was pretty nuts.

While I reward myself with milk and PB&J, T resorts to wine.

It was about 11pm at this point.

We had to wash literally every dish we owned.

We both had to work in the morning.

Joy of joys.

Insanely good veggie casserole leftovers (we made pescatarian accommodations).

Cheesecake baby!

T seems to be adjusting to the new job at The Children's Institute really well. He is somewhat one-on-one with this 14-year-old kid named Alec who is deeply troubled. He has been in and out of different institutions for threatening his parents' lives and his own; not only that, his dad suddenly passed away last over the weekend. This kid has a lot going on. So T is dealing with someone who, on the whole, is a lot angrier than most of the folks he worked with at Creative Living in NC - tough adjustment in my opinion. I think he's really missing the people back at his old job, though - they had a pretty tight community. So lots of adjusting all around.

I'm adjusting to life as a second-year. As my friend, Trishelle, commented in class this past week, "I finally feel like I know what it's like to be in grad school now." Whereas we were completely expending ourselves emotionally last year, the academic load this term has been laid thick. Unfortunately, the emotional work is definitely not over.

I would like to ask a special favor of you, my faithful readers. All three of you.

The professor of my Sexual Disorders class suggested that we think seriously about the ways that we can care for ourselves regarding that class - whether that be getting together with peers before or after class, drinking a glass of wine when we get home, whatever. I would really appreciate any good vibes, prayers, thoughts, and/or encouragement on Tuesdays at 3:30 Seattle-time (that would be 6:30 East Coast-time). That's when we meet and, you know, I really didn't expect to have the strong reactions that I have been having. We've met twice so far, and I've been an emotional wreck during and after each class. It just feels so much heavier and more overwhelming than really any of the classes at Mars Hill so far. I feel sad, scared, helpless, lost - and not just on my own behalf but on the behalf of my peers, my family and friends, my future clients, and myself as a future therapist. It's a lot to swallow already. I've shed many tears already. I need your support: a text message, an e-mail, a Facebook message, whatever. I'm not sure why it's so tough already, but knowing I have a community carrying me and caring for me would really mean the world.

Another biggie has been my Theology I class. Our professor is wonderful - she's a professional violinist and theologian. A brilliant, endearing, and energetic woman. I really love her. But the content of the class has been a challenge - I haven't thought about Theology since I became super depressed in college. So now, I'm being forced to face it - for a grade nonetheless! It's really good for me. But it's a fight. A fight against God and against myself - mostly my stubborn, resentful self. Last week we had to discuss the questions, "Do you believe in God?" and "What do you know about God?" in small groups; then we had to represent our discussion via crafts. I was so frustrated at the fact that anything I think about God ends with a question mark; I told my group that for years, I have just wanted something about my personal beliefs in God to end with a period.

Maybe I can get one declarative statement about God down this term.

I leave you with a passage from Meditations with Meister Eckhart, I book I read last fall for class. I've been reflecting on it a lot in the last week. Also, just so you know...I'm going on a roadtrip. And I'm so excited. Natalie is starting her long journey home to Atlanta, moving out of Seattle this coming week. While my heart is breaking that she is moving away, I am so thrilled and honored to be with her during the first leg of the trip - down the California coast to San Francisco. Will post probably after I get back :)

I pray God

to rid me

of God.

The highest and loftiest thing that one can let go of is

to let go of God for the sake of God.

God’s exit

is

her entrance.

The more you seek God, the less you will find God.

If you do not seek God,

you will find God.

God does not ask anything else of you except

that you let yourself go

and let God

be God

in you.

Above all else, then;

Be prepared at all times

for the gifts of God

and be ready always

for new ones.

For God is a thousand times

more ready to give

than we are

to receive.

As God is omnipotent in his deeds,

so too the soul is equally profound

in its capacity to receive.

- Eckhart