As I embark on this chosen path, I keep visualizing that I am standing in a doorway. Through it I see a world that I long dreamed of entering. It is in part with the sense of having found one of those magical doorways such as the wardrobe to Narnia and also part being ripped from the Matrix that veils our experience of life. I'm making that commitment to leading an authentic life and in partnering with the Divine. I expect it to be at times wonderful and at times wrenching.
So in honor of the beginning of this significant journey, I have moved my blog (yes, you too get to experience a transition - ha ha). Changing the name of my blog from "Finding My UU Soul" to "Soul Work" was a manifestation of the inner turmoil I went through this past year. I had also considered moving my blog to WordPress a number of times, but didn't want to bother with it until now. After being notified of my acceptance, I decided to start a whole new blog to symbolize my radically new path. But as I stared at my empty new blog something didn't seem right. I realized that although I am going through a major change, all that I have been is coming with me. So I decided to import all my old posts into the new blog. It does however have a new name and a new look to honor my new journey. This will be my last post here and I hope you will follow me as I step through the doorway and onto my new path. (I think, hope, the Feedburner feed will stay the same.)
Jun 30, 2008
Crazier than Fiction: Karma?
After extricating myself from living with the woman who turned out to be addicted to crystal meth, I transitioned into what I thought was a better living arrangement. I moved into the home of a sweet old lady that lived closer to the temp job I had in Costa Mesa. It was a short bike ride to the job and I looked forward to finally having a peaceful home life. However, it wasn't long before I noticed a man going past my window on a regular basis. He would then mysteriously appear inside the house. It turned out that the woman was hiding her grandson, who was wanted by the police, in her garage. Yes, he was living in her garage and then would sneak around to enter the house through her window. And yes, he was wanted by the police!
Having gone through quite a bit to move into this place, I was primarily in a state of denial about the situation until one day I saw him reach for something above a cabinet in the bathroom. After he was gone, I climbed up to take a peak and found syringes. This confirmed what I already suspected, that I was again living with a drug addict. How could this be possible after I tried so hard to find a safe and stable place to live! Luckily by this time, I had found a permanent job (more on the job hunt details in my next installment) and met a young woman there who was looking for a roommate. I made arrangements with my new found friends at work to get myself out of that house ASAP. This was move number three in my first five months in Southern California.
I'll never forget watching the silhouette of the grandson going past my window and the sense of normalcy that the woman had developed around the arrangement. Sadly he even had her convinced that the money she gave him was for medical treatment. I hope that her daughter, who I only met once in the beginning, finally realized what was going on.
Having gone through quite a bit to move into this place, I was primarily in a state of denial about the situation until one day I saw him reach for something above a cabinet in the bathroom. After he was gone, I climbed up to take a peak and found syringes. This confirmed what I already suspected, that I was again living with a drug addict. How could this be possible after I tried so hard to find a safe and stable place to live! Luckily by this time, I had found a permanent job (more on the job hunt details in my next installment) and met a young woman there who was looking for a roommate. I made arrangements with my new found friends at work to get myself out of that house ASAP. This was move number three in my first five months in Southern California.
I'll never forget watching the silhouette of the grandson going past my window and the sense of normalcy that the woman had developed around the arrangement. Sadly he even had her convinced that the money she gave him was for medical treatment. I hope that her daughter, who I only met once in the beginning, finally realized what was going on.
Local General Assembly Gathering
On Saturday, we had a small gathering at our church to watch some GA events. It was an opportunity for those of who weren't able to attend this year to share the web watching experience. Plus it was a chance for others who have never attended General Assembly to see what the fuss is about. Since this event was thrown together relatively late, we weren't expecting a big turn out. Technologically it went great! We watched the prerecorded opening worship and then the live stream of the Ware Lecture. Both were enthusiastically received and I for one felt a connection with our fellow UUs many miles away.
You'll have to excuse this late report, but I've been a bit distracted by making arrangements to begin the Masters of Divinity program at Earlham in August!
You'll have to excuse this late report, but I've been a bit distracted by making arrangements to begin the Masters of Divinity program at Earlham in August!
Jun 26, 2008
Attending GA in Spirit
I missed the start of GA but joined in by watching the live feed of the Service of the Living Tradition today. My only difficulty was that I watched it in the church office. An interruption was inevitable. The service was particularly moving for me because I found out this morning that I was accepted into the MDiv program at Earlham School of Religion ::happy dance::
Saturday our Board President and I are organizing a GA Watch event for the church. We will be watching the pre-recorded opening and then the live feed of the Ware Lecture. Wish us luck and no tech gremlins :-)
Saturday our Board President and I are organizing a GA Watch event for the church. We will be watching the pre-recorded opening and then the live feed of the Ware Lecture. Wish us luck and no tech gremlins :-)
Jun 19, 2008
Crazier than Fiction: Beach Life
We left off with me driving around Southern California in a daze. I remember at one point making a tearful phone call to my mother from a public phone in a mall. I spent the weekend driving around looking for a place to live. I was determined to be out of the way when my mother's friend came home from vacation. As a drove through Huntington Beach, I saw a "For Rent" sign just a block or so from the beach. A very blond woman and her boyfriend were happy to sublet the available room to me. They would also be my only friends in SoCal and because of this I was slow to realize the problems this couple had.
My next hurdle was discovering that cars matter. When moving from the suburbs into downtown DC, I gave up my car which made life easier. There was plenty of transportation options and parking was a nightmare. Well, I had a culture shock experience as the converse was true in Orange County. I called up employment agencies only to be told that I needed a car to get an interview. When I finally started to get a few temp jobs, it took a few buses and hours to get to a location that a car would get you in 30 minutes. Eventually I borrowed someone's cast off bike to get around. I was using up my meager savings and living off of Top Ramen. When my roommates/friends told me that we were being kicked out of our townhouse apartment, I believed the story that it was the previous roommate's fault. We found a house for rent together and I even took on the primary responsibility for the lease. I was having a tough time and not ready to give up on my only social contacts.
When I wasn't working, I hung out watching the boyfriend who was a tatoo artist. This was my introduction to the idea of tatoos as art. I only knew the tattooed sailor stereotype before meeting this couple. I watched him create the drawings from scratch and then painstakingly ink them onto skin. I was fascinated and amazed as I watched feathered wings spread across the back of a large motorcyclist. I pondered the idea of getting a tattoo but couldn't settle on anything that I might like forever. I also hung out with their beach friends and even went to a pot festival if I remember correctly. Pretty funny for someone who doesn't smoke pot. Sometimes I think I would have made a good anthropologist because I enjoyed immersing myself into experiences very different from my own while maintaining a certain detachment.
However, I became concerned when I realized that the blond was doing crystal meth. When she started staying up all night doing it and blaring music, I realized that I had to leave. I had finally gotten a steady employment gig and sleep was really a crucial element for me. I started searching for another apartment and when I found a little old lady who was renting a room in her house, I thought it would be the perfect respite for someone a bit weary from all the bumps in the road. Sure at 24 I would prefer to hang out with people my own age, but at that point a "grandma" figure sounded quite comforting. However, it turned out that the cosmic joke was on me.
My next hurdle was discovering that cars matter. When moving from the suburbs into downtown DC, I gave up my car which made life easier. There was plenty of transportation options and parking was a nightmare. Well, I had a culture shock experience as the converse was true in Orange County. I called up employment agencies only to be told that I needed a car to get an interview. When I finally started to get a few temp jobs, it took a few buses and hours to get to a location that a car would get you in 30 minutes. Eventually I borrowed someone's cast off bike to get around. I was using up my meager savings and living off of Top Ramen. When my roommates/friends told me that we were being kicked out of our townhouse apartment, I believed the story that it was the previous roommate's fault. We found a house for rent together and I even took on the primary responsibility for the lease. I was having a tough time and not ready to give up on my only social contacts.
When I wasn't working, I hung out watching the boyfriend who was a tatoo artist. This was my introduction to the idea of tatoos as art. I only knew the tattooed sailor stereotype before meeting this couple. I watched him create the drawings from scratch and then painstakingly ink them onto skin. I was fascinated and amazed as I watched feathered wings spread across the back of a large motorcyclist. I pondered the idea of getting a tattoo but couldn't settle on anything that I might like forever. I also hung out with their beach friends and even went to a pot festival if I remember correctly. Pretty funny for someone who doesn't smoke pot. Sometimes I think I would have made a good anthropologist because I enjoyed immersing myself into experiences very different from my own while maintaining a certain detachment.
However, I became concerned when I realized that the blond was doing crystal meth. When she started staying up all night doing it and blaring music, I realized that I had to leave. I had finally gotten a steady employment gig and sleep was really a crucial element for me. I started searching for another apartment and when I found a little old lady who was renting a room in her house, I thought it would be the perfect respite for someone a bit weary from all the bumps in the road. Sure at 24 I would prefer to hang out with people my own age, but at that point a "grandma" figure sounded quite comforting. However, it turned out that the cosmic joke was on me.
Jun 14, 2008
Crazier than Fiction: The Series
The story of my move from Washington, DC to Southern California and the first few years here begs to be told after my college roommate story. You might think that a person could only have one unbelievable roommate story to tell. You would be wrong.
First of all, the move to California was something I had been thinking about on my own. I had visited my older half-sister who lived in awesome LA beach style, so when I started thinking of going away to finish college it was a logical focal point. Then when my friend said that she wanted to move out there too, it seemed a perfect joint venture. I gave up my beloved Adams Morgan apartment, sold off most of my possessions and bought a bus ticket. I personally wanted to go for the drive-someone-else's-car-across-the-country adventure but my friend was set on the bus. After a miserable three day bus trip (and 5 bus changes) we landed in California. The last leg of our trip was separate because she was going to stay with a friend and I was staying with my mother's friend (who she hadn't seen for over 20 years.) The big box with much of my stuff in it burst open when it hit California soil. Thank goodness it didn't do that at any of the bus changes!
We were arriving in 1991 just in time for the 4th of July. It turned out that my mother's friend lived in a two-bedroom home with her mother and her sister, and I was somewhat horrified to realize that she had given up her bedroom for me. However, they were all going on vacation for a week so I didn't feel immediately in the way. My friend and I spent the 4th separately and would spend the weekend searching for an apartment. I rented a car for the weekend and when I picked it up, the rental company was all out of the economy cars asked if a convertible would be OK. A convertible for spending the first weekend in Southern California with my friend? Whoo Hooo! Pretty cool, right?
Well, the flaw turned out to be the fact that my friend was not yet over the boyfriend she had broken up with. I excitedly drove to pick my friend up and start our apartment search, but found her in tears when I arrived. She told me that she had booked a flight back to DC and asked if I would be staying. (Not the bus by the way, she was flying back.) To say I was shocked would be an understatement. However, the fact that my friend had suddenly pushed up the date of our departure to California probably should have been a clue that trouble was coming. I was really amazed that my friend thought I would turn around and go back with no apartment and all my furniture sold. I told her that I wasn't going back and left in a daze. I remember driving in the convertible along Pacific Coast Highway looking at the ocean and the sunset thinking about the awesome time I thought my friend and I would be having. Then I started to panic.
Now every story has two sides, so I want to note that while it was a horrible experience for me at the time I'm sure the story has a different spin when she tells it. I didn't speak to her for about 8 months afterward, but I love her dearly and appreciate that I might not have taken the plunge on my own.
First of all, the move to California was something I had been thinking about on my own. I had visited my older half-sister who lived in awesome LA beach style, so when I started thinking of going away to finish college it was a logical focal point. Then when my friend said that she wanted to move out there too, it seemed a perfect joint venture. I gave up my beloved Adams Morgan apartment, sold off most of my possessions and bought a bus ticket. I personally wanted to go for the drive-someone-else's-car-across-the-country adventure but my friend was set on the bus. After a miserable three day bus trip (and 5 bus changes) we landed in California. The last leg of our trip was separate because she was going to stay with a friend and I was staying with my mother's friend (who she hadn't seen for over 20 years.) The big box with much of my stuff in it burst open when it hit California soil. Thank goodness it didn't do that at any of the bus changes!
We were arriving in 1991 just in time for the 4th of July. It turned out that my mother's friend lived in a two-bedroom home with her mother and her sister, and I was somewhat horrified to realize that she had given up her bedroom for me. However, they were all going on vacation for a week so I didn't feel immediately in the way. My friend and I spent the 4th separately and would spend the weekend searching for an apartment. I rented a car for the weekend and when I picked it up, the rental company was all out of the economy cars asked if a convertible would be OK. A convertible for spending the first weekend in Southern California with my friend? Whoo Hooo! Pretty cool, right?
Well, the flaw turned out to be the fact that my friend was not yet over the boyfriend she had broken up with. I excitedly drove to pick my friend up and start our apartment search, but found her in tears when I arrived. She told me that she had booked a flight back to DC and asked if I would be staying. (Not the bus by the way, she was flying back.) To say I was shocked would be an understatement. However, the fact that my friend had suddenly pushed up the date of our departure to California probably should have been a clue that trouble was coming. I was really amazed that my friend thought I would turn around and go back with no apartment and all my furniture sold. I told her that I wasn't going back and left in a daze. I remember driving in the convertible along Pacific Coast Highway looking at the ocean and the sunset thinking about the awesome time I thought my friend and I would be having. Then I started to panic.
Now every story has two sides, so I want to note that while it was a horrible experience for me at the time I'm sure the story has a different spin when she tells it. I didn't speak to her for about 8 months afterward, but I love her dearly and appreciate that I might not have taken the plunge on my own.
Jun 12, 2008
Crazier Than Fiction
In the process of compiling my application for graduate school, I had to touch on some of the times life didn't go so smoothly for me. Perhaps one shouldn't wait until 41 to apply to graduate school because too much can happen that you then find yourself trying to explain. I was trying to write a concise explanation of relevant events which seemed increasingly hard to do. Especially when the events are so unbelievable. I wonder if anyone thinks I'm making them up?
For instance, when I applied for college as a high school student, I chose a small women's college in an attempt to create the supportive experience I hadn't found in a large public school. Instead I found myself surrounded by wealthy women who couldn't make it into Georgetown University, but were nearby so they could meet up with the male students there. A distressing moment for them was managing to blow an $800 allowance on drug use or not getting the luxury vehicle they expected from their parents. My roommate, who didn't really need to be in college because she would be going into her parents jewelery business in Miami, was dating a Cuban drug dealer. Yes, that's right. And there's more.
There was endless drama with the relationship, one highlight was the time he neglected to return the rental car that my roommate put on her parents' credit card. When he visited her on campus, he set up shop and supplied cocaine to the students there. The college did find out, however, they just banned him from the campus. At that point he started FedExing the cocaine to my roommate, and she sold it for him. The best part was Parents Weekend. My roommate was getting threatening calls to our dorm room from a local drug dealer that wasn't happy with the quality of the merchandise. So much for my nice small women's college experience. The next year I did well in the housing lottery and got my own room. I never did the college roommate thing again. Think I was a bit traumatized?
For instance, when I applied for college as a high school student, I chose a small women's college in an attempt to create the supportive experience I hadn't found in a large public school. Instead I found myself surrounded by wealthy women who couldn't make it into Georgetown University, but were nearby so they could meet up with the male students there. A distressing moment for them was managing to blow an $800 allowance on drug use or not getting the luxury vehicle they expected from their parents. My roommate, who didn't really need to be in college because she would be going into her parents jewelery business in Miami, was dating a Cuban drug dealer. Yes, that's right. And there's more.
There was endless drama with the relationship, one highlight was the time he neglected to return the rental car that my roommate put on her parents' credit card. When he visited her on campus, he set up shop and supplied cocaine to the students there. The college did find out, however, they just banned him from the campus. At that point he started FedExing the cocaine to my roommate, and she sold it for him. The best part was Parents Weekend. My roommate was getting threatening calls to our dorm room from a local drug dealer that wasn't happy with the quality of the merchandise. So much for my nice small women's college experience. The next year I did well in the housing lottery and got my own room. I never did the college roommate thing again. Think I was a bit traumatized?
Jun 11, 2008
Airplane Reading
On the way home from a wedding in Washington, DC, I was catching up on magazine reading. You may know from past posts that my husband is a cyclist. Through him I developed an admiration for the sport, so I have to mention the reference to an example of its 'code of honor' in the summer issue of UU World magazine. Ted Waddington's article, "The avatar's advantage," takes us back to the moment when Lance Armstrong waited for his main rival, Jan Ullrich, who had crashed. (p.14-15)
The article also includes religion scholar, Mircea Eliade's observation that for people to have meaningful lives they must cast their lives into a story. (p. 15) I would go further and say that we are constantly creating a story whether we are conscious of it or not. It is part of being human. The power comes in becoming conscious of how we collectively and individually create the meaning of our experiences. Then we can decide to create more powerful and healing stories. It is surprising to realize how much of what we experience is actually perspective rather than fact.
[Posted with hblogger 2.0 http://www.normsoft.com/hblogger/]
The article also includes religion scholar, Mircea Eliade's observation that for people to have meaningful lives they must cast their lives into a story. (p. 15) I would go further and say that we are constantly creating a story whether we are conscious of it or not. It is part of being human. The power comes in becoming conscious of how we collectively and individually create the meaning of our experiences. Then we can decide to create more powerful and healing stories. It is surprising to realize how much of what we experience is actually perspective rather than fact.
[Posted with hblogger 2.0 http://www.normsoft.com/hblogger/]
May 23, 2008
Celebration
I never valued the happy sense of anticipation about my birthday until I met my husband who never learned to really celebrate those moments in life. My mom made every birthday (and holidays) seem special and the feeling continues even though she is far away and can't make me my chocolate cake. You may have guessed that today is my birthday. That's right, 41 years young as of 11:23 am Ankara, Turkey time ;-) (that's 1:23 am my time and 4:23 am my Mom's time)
In honor of it, I've decided to finally have the courage to share that I'm applying to seminary with the goal of healthcare chaplaincy. It's been a torturous year of feeling that I was stuck and needed to move on in my life. I tried to force myself to choose the practical route of seeking an MBA (even took the GMAT exam) and found that I was just becoming more miserable. It was after attending a recent UU Women's Retreat weekend that I finally gave myself permission to pursue my long-time dream of ministry. I've been exploring schools online for years envisioning the day that I would be able to pursue my dreams. I've wandered by the theological school booths at GA every year and teared up at the Service of the Living Tradition. Listening to the retreat keynote speaker describe her experiences as a hospice chaplain, I saw my vague sense of direction coalesce into a concrete career path. All the research I had done about which school I wanted to attend made it easy to move forward. I'm working on my application to the Masters of Divinity program at Earlham and hope to finish the essays this weekend.
[The picture is of the women who attended the women's retreat from my church. I'm far-right, bottom row.]
In honor of it, I've decided to finally have the courage to share that I'm applying to seminary with the goal of healthcare chaplaincy. It's been a torturous year of feeling that I was stuck and needed to move on in my life. I tried to force myself to choose the practical route of seeking an MBA (even took the GMAT exam) and found that I was just becoming more miserable. It was after attending a recent UU Women's Retreat weekend that I finally gave myself permission to pursue my long-time dream of ministry. I've been exploring schools online for years envisioning the day that I would be able to pursue my dreams. I've wandered by the theological school booths at GA every year and teared up at the Service of the Living Tradition. Listening to the retreat keynote speaker describe her experiences as a hospice chaplain, I saw my vague sense of direction coalesce into a concrete career path. All the research I had done about which school I wanted to attend made it easy to move forward. I'm working on my application to the Masters of Divinity program at Earlham and hope to finish the essays this weekend.
[The picture is of the women who attended the women's retreat from my church. I'm far-right, bottom row.]
Apr 26, 2008
Long Slumber
I feel like Rip Van Winkle realizing that I have been away from the blog-o-sphere for over three months. It was in December and January that I was coming to the difficult realization that I needed to leave my job at the church. Since I had come to see my position as a calling, it has been painful to think of moving on. Making the decision and letting the church know didn't bring the sense of detachment I hoped to have until I found a new job. Unfortunately, I care too much about the church to just go through the motions. So I deal with the mess that is the emotional turmoil I feel.
Last Sunday I took the opportunity to celebrate a little victory. Years ago when I first worked in the church office, I ma
de a presentation to the Facilities committee about the need for a covered bulletin board by the parking lot entrance. There seemed to be unanimous agreement and for years I brought it up waiting for it to become a priority. I researched it myself when I could. The local church that had something similar had no record of where theirs came from. I made an additional push when we were preparing for the local UU marketing campaign, but again my idea didn't get traction. Finally this year I found one online and requested authorization from the Building Usage & Office Committee to purchase it. It may be hard for some to understand, but after years of ugly temporary displays tied to our gate, it was awesome to finally have a professional looking display for visitor information. I was jumping for joy to see it installed when I arrived on Sunday. (You can see how our native garden has been sprouting up too.) Can't wait to add some artistic touches to the display!
Last Sunday I took the opportunity to celebrate a little victory. Years ago when I first worked in the church office, I ma
de a presentation to the Facilities committee about the need for a covered bulletin board by the parking lot entrance. There seemed to be unanimous agreement and for years I brought it up waiting for it to become a priority. I researched it myself when I could. The local church that had something similar had no record of where theirs came from. I made an additional push when we were preparing for the local UU marketing campaign, but again my idea didn't get traction. Finally this year I found one online and requested authorization from the Building Usage & Office Committee to purchase it. It may be hard for some to understand, but after years of ugly temporary displays tied to our gate, it was awesome to finally have a professional looking display for visitor information. I was jumping for joy to see it installed when I arrived on Sunday. (You can see how our native garden has been sprouting up too.) Can't wait to add some artistic touches to the display!
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A Musical Diversion...
