Blog Archives
What About “What About Easter?”
I wrote “What about Easter?” several months ago posting it to a local media blog The Tyler Loop Babble before posting it here. Not long after it went live on the site, probably within minutes if not seconds, I had this mind-rattling thought, Oh, my, what have I done! The thought was disturbing enough, but the accompanying feelings were downright unsettling.
The feelings of vulnerability and exposure surprised me. Those feelings had little if anything to do with the content of the piece, and a whole lot to do with the fact that I said it out loud – well, I wrote it down. I threw my questions, thoughts, and belief journey out into the ether world for all to peruse, analyze, criticize, and judge. Now, I suppose that’s not a really big deal since anyone – aka yours truly – writing editorial and/or opinion content knows that it’s the nature of the beast and comes to expect analysis, criticism, and possible judgment. Thus, the need for a “tough skin,” a steadfast stance on said opinion, and/or solid supporting empirical evidence where applicable and available.
So, what was the vulnerability and exposure about? Hum! Reflecting on that question, the best answer I came up with regarded cultural context. I/We live, work, and play in the East Texas Bible Belt where the faith tenets of traditional and evangelical Christianity abound. Texas as a whole ranking #11 in the 2022 Most Religious States with 64% of adults reporting as religious.
I doubt that my thoughts expressed in “What about Easter?” reflect those of most East Texas religious folks. Or I wonder? Does our fear of vulnerability and exposure when going against the grain of perceived or real public opinion thwart the expression of our genuine thoughts and feelings? Maybe there are more folks with questioning, outside-the-box thoughts and beliefs, but keep them to themselves. Does that fear shroud our genuine selves? If that fear did not exist, how many of us would risk stepping out and going against the grain for the sake of freedom of expression and an authentic life.
I found it interesting that not long after my bout of vulnerability and exposure, a group of friends posed the question, how do we help folks with different, against-the-grain, outside-the-box thoughts and feelings on any issue be able to step up and speak out? I don’t know. However, I do have an opinion on that: As more of us step up, risk the vulnerability and exposure, and respectfully express our against-the-grain thoughts and feelings, others will as well. There is encouragement, motivation, and power in knowing one is not alone.
Post navigation
A New Tempo?
It is January 3, 2020, and I can’t seem to get started in this new year. Perhaps this is due to my still processing the last of 2019. I checked my sister out of the hospital on August 19, 2019 and took her to our family home (where our parents once lived) located on Big Cypress Bayou outside of Jefferson, TX. The plan was to spend about three weeks there caring for her as she recovered from a partial foot amputation. Unfortunately, the healing did not go as well as hoped and three weeks turned into three months!
Outside of her foot not healing and my missing my home and wife, who did come and stay a few days a couple of times, it was a different and mostly good three months for me. We visited, reminisced, watched television, and each had ample time to ourselves. I spent a lot of my free time on the porch rocking, reading, journaling, writing poetry, and simply watching in awe the natural world surrounding me. My journal entry from October 14th sheds a bit more light on the experience:
I’ve chopped and diced vegetables and the soup is simmering in the pot. It is marvelous sitting on the porch. The heat has finally – I hope – moved away and the cool air is welcomed. Actually, it is raining with a steady chorus of drops making their “pits, pats, plops” on the tin roof. Drips are becoming steady ropes of water running off the roof’s edge. The river is pelted and puckered with raindrops. The rain and gray sky meld to form a haze surrounding the trees across the water. Quite calming and restful!
Yet, I feel a bit anxious and unsettled. Perhaps ambivalence might be a more apt description. I have been here for almost two months caring for my sister following a partial foot amputation. The healing has not gone as well as hoped, and she is still under doctor’s orders to put no weight on the foot. I have kept busy with her care, meal preparations, laundry, cleaning, and mowing. I have pressure washed a 10’ X 60’ porch and the front of the house. I have dusted, vacuumed, or mopped everything in the house. I have cleaned and reorganized much of the huge pantry and the bedroom walk-in closet. I have taken down, washed, and replaced every curtain and drape in the house – at least all those that could be removed.
I have rewired and configured the TV antennae and cables. We now get 25+ channels instead of the previous eight to ten. And, yes, I must admit that I have watched more TV in the last two months than I have in the last two years. I have played too numerous to count solitaire games on my computer (no internet or cell service down here) to the point I believe the program is duplicating games. I have mowed two acres of grass sometimes going over the taller areas two to three times. I have used the weed eater trimming the tall grass on the riverbank until my elbow hurts.
I have made four trips home to Tyler for personal appointments and commitments and two trips to Henderson for doctor appointments. All totally about 1000 miles on the road. I just returned from three days at home catching up on paying bills, household concerns, and social and civic commitments.
Why the ambivalence? Using Brother Lawrence’s words, “to chop wood, and carry water” along with the quiet, serenity, and solitude of the surroundings seems to have precipitated some shift within my being as I feel more centered and settled. As I ponder on that for a bit, my thoughts return to my reading of October 3rd:
I find more and more the power—the dangerous power—of solitude working in me. The easiness of wide error. The power of one’s own inner ambivalence, the pull of inner contradictions. How little I know myself really. How weak and tepid I am. . . . Everything has meaning, dire meanings, in solitude. And one can easily lose it all in following the habits one has brought out of common life (the daily round). One has to start over and receive (in meekness) a new awareness of work, time, prayer, oneself. A new tempo—it has to be in one’s very system (and it is not in mine, I see).
And what I do not have I must pray for and wait for.
—from A Year with Thomas Merton: Daily Meditations from His Journals (October 25 and 30, 1965, V.309-10)
Perhaps therein lies the basis for my ambivalence. Perhaps I fear losing it all upon returning to “common life (my daily round).” Perhaps my 2020 is to be a time for “a new tempo.”
Pilgrim Seeker Heretic 