Time for Rest

 One of my very favorite TV shows is a British sci fi called Doctor Who. In case you’ve never heard of it, the main character in this show is a person who can travel in space and time. He, or she since the current Doctor is a woman, always meets and becomes friends with a human who goes on adventures with them. Doctor Who is called a lord of time because he can go anywhere in the past or in the future in his spaceship.

Today, I’ve been thinking about time. 

In the English language, we have a lot of expressions about time. We take our time. We lose time. Time doesn’t wait for us. These are all ways of saying that time is important and we never seem to have enough time.

We experience time in a linear way and we spend a lot of time thinking about the past or worrying about the future. For many of us, including myself, we have difficulty truly being present in the present. 

For me, the rhythm of the church year helps me to view time in a cyclical way. We have church seasons in which we celebrate or remember the same things every year. The church calendar helps me stay grounded, especially during times of uncertainty or feeling lost. The seasons remind me of God’s consistency.

For those of us living in Ohio, we have specific seasons that we experience every year. And right now is not a favorite season for most people. It’s cold and dark, but it’s not Advent or Christmas. The snow is piled up and dirty on the sides of all the roads. My particular street is a dangerous ice skating rink. And as I check-in on my friends and community, everyone is tired. No one has the energy to do much of anything. And we feel guilty for feeling that way.

But nature requires this season. A season that isn’t our favorite. A season most of us would like to skip. I’m sure that the more experienced gardeners could tell you why the earth needs this dark, cold, quiet time. Nature must rest in order for spring to come. For things to grow and blossom.

But it’s uncomfortable for us to slow down, isn’t it? It’s even more uncomfortable for us to stop completely and rest. We have a lot of excuses why we can’t. And when we try to rest, we often get anxious about what we “should” be doing. 

I wonder if we have these uncomfortable feelings about rest because we don’t feel safe. Resting doesn’t feel safe. 

Ever since I was a kid, whenever I felt scared or stressed or didn’t know what to do, I would use my prayer time to imagine myself climbing on the lap of God. I would imagine God wrapping God’s arms around me, just like a mother would. In my experience, a mother’s lap can be the safest place in the whole world. 

So I invite you to take a moment to imagine a safe place. Maybe it's walking along a beach, listening the waves crash; or perhaps it’s a garden where you’re smelling the different fragrances. Maybe it’s just being with a loved one.  Or maybe it’s getting cozy under warm blankets with a cup of hot cocoa. 

In this safe place, you may want to meditate on this sacred text.

“Return to your rest, my soul, for the Divine has been good to you.” Psalm 116:7

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God of rest, help us to find our safe place in you, knowing that you are Lord over our time. May we release any guilt or shame from our past. We put into your capable hands the anxieties we have about the future. Help us to be present now, aware of the necessity of this season of rest. May we feel peace right now in your presence. Amen. 

Of Things Not Yet Here (Dec. 31st, 2014)

 

“And now we welcome the new year.  Full of things that have never been.” 

~Rainer Maria Rilke

It’s the ending of the Christmas season. We were waiting for the innocent light born in a manager. The days will be growing longer now. The nights shorter. We’ll have to take the tree down soon. The beautiful evergreen that has sparkled and twinkled in our home for weeks. The Epiphany is soon to come.

It’s good to pay attention to endings because they are sad and meaningful. But Americans don’t like sad and meaningful things. We like happy, ever-after endings. We don’t take time to mourn.

 Being fully aware means looking at and experiencing everything. Not pushing anything aside. Not ignoring anything. Being fully aware is painful and so is saying goodbye. And now is the time that we say goodbye to last year. We say goodbye to the pain and sadness. We say goodbye to the missing and the longing.  We acknowledge everything and we say goodbye.

In the English language, we have many verb tenses. I can talk about the future in many different ways, trying to understand or control it.

By this time next year, I will have been doing so many things for such a long time. I will have done so many things.

 But we can’t predict or control the future. The New Year is a celebration because it is a beginning. Because it is new. There’s excitement, an expectation, of things not yet here. There is a freedom in the not knowing.

“Make New Year's goals. Dig within, and discover what you would like to have happen in your life this year. This helps you do your part. It is an affirmation that you're interested in fully living life in the year to come.”  ~Melody Beattie

~New Year’s Resolutions~

1. I resolve to enjoy reading. To not feel like reading must fit some purpose, but that it can simply be.
2. I resolve to enjoy writing anything, bad or good, for whatever reason.  I won’t be concerned about writing goals or writing professionally, but I will focus on the act of writing because I am a writer.
3. I resolve to enjoy my body, with everything that it can do, because my body is an amazing work of art and science.
4. I resolve to enjoy my chosen family and my beloved relationships. I resolve to celebrate everything that makes us unique and different.
5. I resolve to be aware of myself and what I need and what I want.
6. I resolve to be fully me.

Let’s ring in the new year with an expectation of good things. Here is my prayer: May we listen with openness, speak with mercy, hold back judgment, be kind, spread joy, and walk without fear.

 

Beginnings and Endings

 Every ending has a beginning and every beginning has an ending. I began my time as an adjunct instructor in the ESL Program at Otterbein in the spring of 2015. As someone who spent her girlhood in Westerville, who lugged a stack of books home from the Westerville library every week, whose great-grandfather had been a professor at Otterbein, I was thrilled to be part of this historical and still thriving community.

Even though I’ve always been “part-time,” my commitment to Otterbein and my students has been full time. And I’ve been honored to work alongside faculty and staff in different programs and departments. Otterbein attracts the most compassionate and hard-working folks who truly care about their students as whole and complete individuals. Every year, I wish I could participate in many of the innovative courses on campus. I’m so happy that I took the opportunity to participate in Dr. Tammy Birks’ Studies in Graphic Narrative course and it was an incredible honor to participate in Dr. Shannon Lakanen’s Memoir Writing in Prisons course with Piper Kerman. These experiences kept me connected to the struggles of being a student and shaped how I think about assignments and assessments. And I know my classroom environment was enhanced by the relationships I built with the amazing folks in the CTL and the Writing Intensive communities. 

Over the last 7 years, I’ve developed and taught courses such as Creative Writing, Marginalized Voices in American Literature, Women in American History, Sociolinguistics, and Intro to Journalism. ESL courses are often perceived as remedial classes at best, but the culture at Otterbein has always empowered me to engage students in deep and dynamic ways. Helping students find their authenticity, their personal voice, through playful and imaginative writing has always been my priority. I hope you’ll find evidence of this in the pages of The Howl. 

I took on the mantle of editor for the ESL Program’s magazine The Howl a few years ago and it is such a joy to share the poems, stories, essays, articles, and reviews written by students from China, South Korea, Japan, Jordan, Brazil, Spain, the Czech Republic, and other countries.  Doing something important is worth the hard work and I am always so proud of the passion and dedication of the students in the ESL Program. 

As I reflect on the ending of my time as an adjunct at Otterbein, I am having “all the feels.” Otterbein was a safe place for me while my wife, Felicia DeRosa, transitioned publicly and became a transgender activist, in additon to being an amazing artist and educator. I want to thank Erin Johnson, the coordinator of the ESL program, my boss, and my friend. She has always had my back. I want to thank Liz McMurray and Lejla Bilal for helping me obtain the position and for being mentors. I want to thank Dr. Paul Einsenstein for supporting my work as well.

I’m thrilled about my new role at King Avenue United Methodist Church as the Director of Student Ministries and I know my time at Otterbein has helped prepare me for the next chapter in my story. But, endings are also sad and I will miss being in the classroom, learning as much from my students as they do from me. 

Here’s a little piece of advice from a 41 year old, queer mom-like person: pay attention to the small joys and pleasures, notice the uniqueness of your lived experience, be afraid and do the thing anyway, and take time to just be. This is your life, so live it fully. 

You can always peruse previous editions of The Howl online here: https://digitalcommons.otterbein.edu/the_howl/ .

The Night Sea Journey

The past twelve months have been full of mystery, adventure, magic, and sorrow. After spending five months wandering through Europe (we chronicled our adventures here), David and I moved to the small town of Ohio where I grew up. We needed a safe place to recoup and recover from our travels. Time and Space Travel disorients the body and the soul in numerous, mostly unsayable ways. I am still discovering how I have changed because of our journey across the pond. We returned with empty pockets and full hearts. Thanks to our family and friends, we’ve been slowly getting back on our feet.

We arrived home just in time. My grandmother passed away less than two months later. (Read my response here.) I thank God for the timing of her passing and that she was surrounded by family and loved ones.

After her death, I began meditating on Dark Nights of the Soul by Thomas Moore (suggested by my good friend, Kyle) and I have found myself connecting with its imagery. The last three months or so have been a Night Sea Journey. I had been fighting unsuccessfully to stay above water. I was drowning. Then I accepted the advice of Thomas Moore and let myself sink into the dark waters. I imagine myself as a mermaid, intrinsically comfortable with the darkness and the water. I’ve spent the last few weeks writing about mermaids and the strength of fluidity they symbolize to me. This has given me peace about being in the dark.

As we look forward to the New Year, let us be at peace with the darkness. We are safe in the knowledge that this is the season of darkness. The season of light and joy lies just ahead.

Seasons Greetings to you and yours! May the magic of the holidays fill your hearts and homes.

With love,
Gwen


“She loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” ~song lyric of The Slow Poisoner