Whale time

I love summer worship.  There is nothing to coordinate - it is simple.  I'm blessed to work with an amazing, intuitive, brilliant musician, so together we weave a tapestry that unfolds in real time - very freeing!  Although what we do in worship during the program year is wonderful, there is something about summer... I look forward to the experience every year!

Sadly, I will miss most of August this year.  I will take my remaining vacation and one of my two weeks of study leave and do some serious medical interventions.  I'm barely keeping up right now; I will be under water before September even gets here unless I'm feeling better.

Under water...walking through water...treading water...head under water (thank you Sara Bareilles, and you were right - the breathing does get harder).  It is an odd time right now, when the air feels thick like water and every effort brings physical resistance.  I'm tired.

But I'm also fully here - present - feeling the resistance.  Feeling the frustration of having to schedule myself oh so carefully so I get everything done...feeling the relief when things get done, and nothing major falls through the cracks (major means anything larger than a grand piano).

Feeling the delight in listening to the children explain to me (in an impromptu conversation) what is cool in their world - and they became what was cool in my world today.  Feeling the sacredness of the moment as I sat in that liminal space with someone who is dying, and experienced the depth of the emotion of the person's loved ones as they embraced love, and loss, and longing, and relief, and fear and love and loss...

Feeling the weight of the bird seed container as I go out to feed my beloved red-winged flying pigs, who hit the bird feeders like little vacuum cleaners.  Feeling the warmth of the sun on my face - feeling fully alive.

Knowing that in the moment, when I can change very little of what is happening, one thing I can do is be present and feel it - every bit of it.  Good and bad, even the fatigue, which, as I think about it, is less like water and more like trying to move in glue that is almost set.

What will this experience reveal?  As I can't make it go away right now, what can it teach me?  Am I able to stop resenting it enough to listen?

What teachers are in your life right now (translation:  what circumstances are present that cannot be altered, push your buttons or invite you to struggle, but remain despite your best attempt to change them)?

I picture Jonah beating against the inside of the whale until he was exhausted...and then sitting down, taking a deep breath, and accepting that the ride was under way, and he was not traveling in First Class - he was cargo.

I guess if I'm going to be under water for a period of time, the belly of a whale isn't the worst option...

Fully present in whale time,
Kim