Sunday, July 31, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
simplicity
If you've been reading my blog for any period of time now, you know that I have one consistent priority in the morning: coffee. This morning's quest for joe included a run to the grocery store for sweetener so that I could once again make my own at home (I'm starting to get good at this... Bread Co may lose money on me yet). On the way to the grocery store, I was listening to NPR and the one subject we've all started following like a bad soap-opera came up yet again: the debt crisis. Specifically talking about a study that's recently been done, not on employment or income but on the wealth of the average American i.e. wealth measured by a household's assets minus its debts. And it made me really depressed to listen to all this because not only do I come from a family where our net wealth is probably a negative at this point, but it made me think about my own wealth as a young single with student loans, trying to make it as a musician in the wild and renting from a landlord who, yesterday, did the shittiest job of re-caulking our bathtub that I have ever seen in my 25 years... it was pretty laughable. Needless to say, my net wealth is also at a negative right now and isn't expected to rise anytime in the near foreseeable future.
And then I made the mistake of picking up today's copy of the New York Times only to further enlighten myself on the impasse taking place in Congress these days. It was not a smart decision. I got home to find a stray cat mewing in my rock garden for food and it was almost enough to put me over the edge: everybody that I knew (myself, my family, the average American being casually discussed and dismissed on public radio, and the cat)... poor, hungry, thirsty, and of course dying from the national crisis. By 10 am, doom and gloom had already set into my thoughts for the day.
I should've gone on a run this morning instead....
I hear my mom's parting words as I used to board the bus during grade school still echo through my brain, "I love you! Make good choices!" Alas... something I'm still learning...
But then I went inside and made my coffee and actually ate something (good job, right Katie?). And then I decided to change my course for the day: I picked up my Bible and turned to the Psalms. The sermon notes inserted made the pages fall open to Psalm 104, a psalm of creation -- one that has been near and dear to me for a long time. Its words were like balm to my already weary heart, so tired of debt ceiling crises and divorces and break-ups... "The lions roar for their prey and seek their food from God. The sun rises, and they steal away; they return and lie down in their dens. Then people go out to their work, to their labor until evening" (Ps 104: 21-23).
When I turned further to Proverbs to pick up where I had last left off in the book (recommended reading by my counselor), I found another measure of consolation: "Blessed are those who find wisdom (aka the fear of the Lord, from Prov 1:7), those who gain understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left are riches and honor. Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed" (Prov 3:13-18).
And I don't know about you, but there's something terribly comforting in the rhythm suggested in Psalm 104. There's a simplicity to it: an earth created by God, its inhabitants (both animals and humans) dependent upon him for work and survival. And for those of us with souls, there's more... wisdom, found only in Christ... not in the New York Times, not in public radio syndicates, not in mutual funds or real estate or overseas investments. But wisdom, the fear of the Lord... yielding more returns than we could ever ask for, benefits to our heart and well-being that money simply cannot buy.
And at this point, I'm not sure what's more amazing to me: the refreshing power of simplicity and wisdom, or the way it always seems to happen upon me when I most need it...
And then I made the mistake of picking up today's copy of the New York Times only to further enlighten myself on the impasse taking place in Congress these days. It was not a smart decision. I got home to find a stray cat mewing in my rock garden for food and it was almost enough to put me over the edge: everybody that I knew (myself, my family, the average American being casually discussed and dismissed on public radio, and the cat)... poor, hungry, thirsty, and of course dying from the national crisis. By 10 am, doom and gloom had already set into my thoughts for the day.
I should've gone on a run this morning instead....
I hear my mom's parting words as I used to board the bus during grade school still echo through my brain, "I love you! Make good choices!" Alas... something I'm still learning...
But then I went inside and made my coffee and actually ate something (good job, right Katie?). And then I decided to change my course for the day: I picked up my Bible and turned to the Psalms. The sermon notes inserted made the pages fall open to Psalm 104, a psalm of creation -- one that has been near and dear to me for a long time. Its words were like balm to my already weary heart, so tired of debt ceiling crises and divorces and break-ups... "The lions roar for their prey and seek their food from God. The sun rises, and they steal away; they return and lie down in their dens. Then people go out to their work, to their labor until evening" (Ps 104: 21-23).
When I turned further to Proverbs to pick up where I had last left off in the book (recommended reading by my counselor), I found another measure of consolation: "Blessed are those who find wisdom (aka the fear of the Lord, from Prov 1:7), those who gain understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left are riches and honor. Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed" (Prov 3:13-18).
And I don't know about you, but there's something terribly comforting in the rhythm suggested in Psalm 104. There's a simplicity to it: an earth created by God, its inhabitants (both animals and humans) dependent upon him for work and survival. And for those of us with souls, there's more... wisdom, found only in Christ... not in the New York Times, not in public radio syndicates, not in mutual funds or real estate or overseas investments. But wisdom, the fear of the Lord... yielding more returns than we could ever ask for, benefits to our heart and well-being that money simply cannot buy.
And at this point, I'm not sure what's more amazing to me: the refreshing power of simplicity and wisdom, or the way it always seems to happen upon me when I most need it...
Monday, July 25, 2011
sprinkles
In the battle to not go back to bed after my 4-mile run this morning, making coffee at home was the first good decision I made (well, after showering that is)... but believe me, you know it's gonna be one of those days when even the decision to make coffee is a struggle. I so badly wanted to just run to the Starbucks or Bread Co down the street, plop down my $1.71 (or possibly more because let's face it, if I go into one of those places, I'm gonna want a pastry), and head out for my morning errands. But this summer has been the summer of thriftiness and so after sitting in my kitchen for half an hour, debating with myself to either make coffee or give in to a morning nap, I decided to just suck it up and make it myself. And I found out if I put enough coffee in the coffee maker, I can actually make a pretty decent cup.
The last couple of weeks have been good, but not in the traditional sense of the word... emotional sedation was the term I think I used in my last post? But that all started to wear off after my counseling session yesterday. And it wasn't so much of a counseling session as it was a grieving session because let's face it: the only times I'm grieving these days are randomly by myself (usually in the car if something on the radio triggers it) or with my counselor Lynn. Of course, yesterday's session stirred up all sorts of emotions that had sort of been numbed for the last couple of weeks... not intentionally, but just because it's not insanely healthy to grieve every single day. Where I come from, we call that dwelling. So I haven't been dwelling, but the struggle to make coffee this morning wasn't just a battle of wills... it was one of tiredness and ache for someone else to deal with things for me, even if it's to just make my coffee. But you know, I did it. I ran four miles, it's 9:25 am, I haven't gone back to bed yet, and I made my own coffee. Not to mention that I somehow managed to resist the gluten-filled pastries of Bread Co. So maybe there's hope for the rest of the day...
Speaking of gluten, yesterday while I was in Columbia, I had lunch with my dear friend and mentor, Dr. Budds, after which we went grocery shopping together, which was like something out of the movies. If they ever make a movie about my life, I really hope they include the scene where Dr. B and I go to the supermarket together. There we were, walking through the Columbia Gerbs when we came to the donut case. Of course, this is even funnier if you consider the fact that Dr. B is a diabetic and I'm gluten-intolerant. So we stop in front of the donut case, not to buy... just to look.
I ask him, "What's your favorite kind?"
"I like the ones with the chocolate frosting on top," he responds. "What's your favorite kind?" he asks back.
"I like the ones with sprinkles," I say, admiring what looks to be a custard-filled long john with white icing and colorful sprinkles covering it.
"I'm not surprised," he replies, which makes me laugh out loud. Dr. Budds has always thought of me as a Pollyanna figure, which may have been true at one point but really isn't the case anymore. We're two cynics in a pod, he and I, although we try not to let it affect our sunshiny disposition, as he often likes to put it. He sighs, "Let's go look at the pitiful things they have for diabetics..."
I laugh again and hesitate to leave the donut case, following him around the corner to the area where they keep cookies as hard as rocks and pies laced with Splenda. After picking out a red velvet cake, we walk by the florist's area, apparently another favored section of the grocery store for both of us. We look at the selection, talk about our favorite flowers, notice which ones on display look good and which ones aren't as attractive. Like I said, straight out of a movie.
What was more ironic than anything though was realizing that we both go through this routine of the pastry counter and the floral section whenever we go to the grocery store, yet in separate cities and without knowing the other one does the same thing. This makes complete sense though, since we both have a sugar tooth we can't indulge and we both have a knack for gardening and botany. It was one of those experiences I'll never forget... quite honestly my favorite part of the day. It still makes me laugh when I think about it. And as weary as we both are right now (him from being an overworked university professor and me from the emotional turmoil of my family and personal life) it was one of those healing moments: funny, sweet, ironic, and affirming. It's important to have people to pal around with, even if they've got forty years or so on you.
Maybe it's one of the reasons I make a terrible 21-year-old...
The last couple of weeks have been good, but not in the traditional sense of the word... emotional sedation was the term I think I used in my last post? But that all started to wear off after my counseling session yesterday. And it wasn't so much of a counseling session as it was a grieving session because let's face it: the only times I'm grieving these days are randomly by myself (usually in the car if something on the radio triggers it) or with my counselor Lynn. Of course, yesterday's session stirred up all sorts of emotions that had sort of been numbed for the last couple of weeks... not intentionally, but just because it's not insanely healthy to grieve every single day. Where I come from, we call that dwelling. So I haven't been dwelling, but the struggle to make coffee this morning wasn't just a battle of wills... it was one of tiredness and ache for someone else to deal with things for me, even if it's to just make my coffee. But you know, I did it. I ran four miles, it's 9:25 am, I haven't gone back to bed yet, and I made my own coffee. Not to mention that I somehow managed to resist the gluten-filled pastries of Bread Co. So maybe there's hope for the rest of the day...
Speaking of gluten, yesterday while I was in Columbia, I had lunch with my dear friend and mentor, Dr. Budds, after which we went grocery shopping together, which was like something out of the movies. If they ever make a movie about my life, I really hope they include the scene where Dr. B and I go to the supermarket together. There we were, walking through the Columbia Gerbs when we came to the donut case. Of course, this is even funnier if you consider the fact that Dr. B is a diabetic and I'm gluten-intolerant. So we stop in front of the donut case, not to buy... just to look.
I ask him, "What's your favorite kind?"
"I like the ones with the chocolate frosting on top," he responds. "What's your favorite kind?" he asks back.
"I like the ones with sprinkles," I say, admiring what looks to be a custard-filled long john with white icing and colorful sprinkles covering it.
"I'm not surprised," he replies, which makes me laugh out loud. Dr. Budds has always thought of me as a Pollyanna figure, which may have been true at one point but really isn't the case anymore. We're two cynics in a pod, he and I, although we try not to let it affect our sunshiny disposition, as he often likes to put it. He sighs, "Let's go look at the pitiful things they have for diabetics..."
I laugh again and hesitate to leave the donut case, following him around the corner to the area where they keep cookies as hard as rocks and pies laced with Splenda. After picking out a red velvet cake, we walk by the florist's area, apparently another favored section of the grocery store for both of us. We look at the selection, talk about our favorite flowers, notice which ones on display look good and which ones aren't as attractive. Like I said, straight out of a movie.
What was more ironic than anything though was realizing that we both go through this routine of the pastry counter and the floral section whenever we go to the grocery store, yet in separate cities and without knowing the other one does the same thing. This makes complete sense though, since we both have a sugar tooth we can't indulge and we both have a knack for gardening and botany. It was one of those experiences I'll never forget... quite honestly my favorite part of the day. It still makes me laugh when I think about it. And as weary as we both are right now (him from being an overworked university professor and me from the emotional turmoil of my family and personal life) it was one of those healing moments: funny, sweet, ironic, and affirming. It's important to have people to pal around with, even if they've got forty years or so on you.
Maybe it's one of the reasons I make a terrible 21-year-old...
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
practice fail
We have ants. And a leaky faucet. And a mouse. Not to mention that here in St. Louis, it got up to at least 102 yesterday (some reports said 106) with a heat index of 118. So things aren't amazing. And Sunday I was supposed to see my counselor but her youngest got head lice the night before and so she had to cancel last minute. Oh yeah, and my ex-boyfriend... you know, the one who broke up with me once I actually started being myself? Well, call it woman's intuition (or possibly facebook shenanigans) but I think he might be casually seeing someone else and you know, it's only been two weeks. Just seems really soon to me. And to be even more honest, it hurts and it really pisses me off. Because that's how it feels when you're in love and the other person doesn't care about you as deeply as you did for them. Ugh... awesome.
In general though, I've been dealing with everything ok. The last ten days or so have been... bliss, actually. God has been so good about sedating me emotionally and helping me take things in stride. It was not the normal Katie response so I know it wasn't me.
But then stuff happened... you know, this thing we call life. And so my peaceful cocoon was burst open a little bit... Mom went to see the lawyer yesterday and I haven't heard back from her how it went but things are pretty tense at the house right now. And when I went to Columbia this weekend, I was highly frustrated (not only by the fact that I didn't get to see the one person who has an objective view in my messy life and can speak the truth of the gospel to me in a way that doesn't make me want to hurl my phone across the room), but also by my own dreams and desires of going back to grad school and of people in Columbia that I miss so desperately. I just want to escape. I want to go back to my school and my college town and hibernate and practice the piano and get my masters and get over Jonathan and deal with the divorce from a distance. But that isn't my reality right now and it wouldn't be fair to my family or my students or my own professional experience to just up and leave everything a year after I'd established myself. So instead I'm cleaning the sinks. And the bathroom. And buying mousetraps. And calling my landlord to report our leaky faucet.
And maybe I'll have an hour this afternoon to spend at the piano.
And maybe, just maybe, after another year of working through the nitty gritty mess that actually is my reality and putting lots of little one-hour practice slots together, I'll be ready to re-audition and go back to school. Maybe.
In general though, I've been dealing with everything ok. The last ten days or so have been... bliss, actually. God has been so good about sedating me emotionally and helping me take things in stride. It was not the normal Katie response so I know it wasn't me.
But then stuff happened... you know, this thing we call life. And so my peaceful cocoon was burst open a little bit... Mom went to see the lawyer yesterday and I haven't heard back from her how it went but things are pretty tense at the house right now. And when I went to Columbia this weekend, I was highly frustrated (not only by the fact that I didn't get to see the one person who has an objective view in my messy life and can speak the truth of the gospel to me in a way that doesn't make me want to hurl my phone across the room), but also by my own dreams and desires of going back to grad school and of people in Columbia that I miss so desperately. I just want to escape. I want to go back to my school and my college town and hibernate and practice the piano and get my masters and get over Jonathan and deal with the divorce from a distance. But that isn't my reality right now and it wouldn't be fair to my family or my students or my own professional experience to just up and leave everything a year after I'd established myself. So instead I'm cleaning the sinks. And the bathroom. And buying mousetraps. And calling my landlord to report our leaky faucet.
And maybe I'll have an hour this afternoon to spend at the piano.
And maybe, just maybe, after another year of working through the nitty gritty mess that actually is my reality and putting lots of little one-hour practice slots together, I'll be ready to re-audition and go back to school. Maybe.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
melting icebergs
It's 11:11 am here in the hot and humidity-ridden metropolis of St. Louis. This morning I started running at 7:30 to find that I was still too late... in St. Louis in the summer, if you don't drag your butt out of bed, throw on your tennis shoes, and hit the road by 6 am, you're pretty much screwed. Have fun running in a sauna. And so that's what I did. 3.6 miles in. Next time it'll be 4.
I could write a really long post explaining everything that's going on in my life right now and everything that's happened in the last couple of weeks, but it would really seem like overkill. There's simply too much. I'm not writing these days to work through my grief... I'm writing in retrospect as I leave it all behind. In a way, today's post is a eulogy in the funeral of what has been.
And if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't hesitate to ask me. Let me just say that, whatever you think I might be dealing with, multiply it by 2 or 3. The other night I dreamed that the iceberg I was sleeping on melted away. So metaphorically make of that what you can... but I don't really feel like I'm drowning, nor do I really feel like I'm even swimming. I feel like the iceberg is gone and I'm just floating. At this point, I really don't know what's propping me up. I think it's mostly the grace of God. A week ago, I was raging mad at him... they say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So a woman doubly scorned? Well, mad barely scratches the surface... furious is more like it. But God in his infinite graciousness just kept cutting away... and believe it or not, I actually feel better. Something had to give. So it did. And I don't feel the stabbing pain I felt ten days ago. I just feel... sedated. For the moment. And maybe more pain is coming, I don't really know. But I can't really think about it right now. Maybe I'm finally learning how to deal with anxiety the right way. Wouldn't that be a nice benefit of all the heartache?
For the most part, I'm doing ok. I'm no longer throwing my phone across the room at the wall destroying the LED picture, nor am I crying for a greater portion of the day anymore. And when I come home at night, I only want one glass of wine rather than 2 or 3.
The other night Dr. Budds told me during one of the phone calls I periodically make to him to report the state of affairs that I needed to find some projects of my own to throw myself into and at that point, I wasn't ready to hear his wisdom. But that was five days ago. I've let more go since then and so I have some energy to put towards various projects of interest, but not a lot... enough to give me something to think about but not so much that I'm being drained daily by my own need to distract. I'm mostly re-evaluating and coming up with a new plan for the next year or two. But more or less, I'm shifting into cocoon mode. I want nothing more than to be able to make it through the days without major long-term scarring or a complete loss of hope.
My rosebush, the one I planted a month ago in memory of part of the pain I'm dealing with, has six buds on it getting ready to bloom. I suspect that they'll all open at the same time, when I really need to see something beautiful.
I could write a really long post explaining everything that's going on in my life right now and everything that's happened in the last couple of weeks, but it would really seem like overkill. There's simply too much. I'm not writing these days to work through my grief... I'm writing in retrospect as I leave it all behind. In a way, today's post is a eulogy in the funeral of what has been.
And if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't hesitate to ask me. Let me just say that, whatever you think I might be dealing with, multiply it by 2 or 3. The other night I dreamed that the iceberg I was sleeping on melted away. So metaphorically make of that what you can... but I don't really feel like I'm drowning, nor do I really feel like I'm even swimming. I feel like the iceberg is gone and I'm just floating. At this point, I really don't know what's propping me up. I think it's mostly the grace of God. A week ago, I was raging mad at him... they say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So a woman doubly scorned? Well, mad barely scratches the surface... furious is more like it. But God in his infinite graciousness just kept cutting away... and believe it or not, I actually feel better. Something had to give. So it did. And I don't feel the stabbing pain I felt ten days ago. I just feel... sedated. For the moment. And maybe more pain is coming, I don't really know. But I can't really think about it right now. Maybe I'm finally learning how to deal with anxiety the right way. Wouldn't that be a nice benefit of all the heartache?
For the most part, I'm doing ok. I'm no longer throwing my phone across the room at the wall destroying the LED picture, nor am I crying for a greater portion of the day anymore. And when I come home at night, I only want one glass of wine rather than 2 or 3.
The other night Dr. Budds told me during one of the phone calls I periodically make to him to report the state of affairs that I needed to find some projects of my own to throw myself into and at that point, I wasn't ready to hear his wisdom. But that was five days ago. I've let more go since then and so I have some energy to put towards various projects of interest, but not a lot... enough to give me something to think about but not so much that I'm being drained daily by my own need to distract. I'm mostly re-evaluating and coming up with a new plan for the next year or two. But more or less, I'm shifting into cocoon mode. I want nothing more than to be able to make it through the days without major long-term scarring or a complete loss of hope.
My rosebush, the one I planted a month ago in memory of part of the pain I'm dealing with, has six buds on it getting ready to bloom. I suspect that they'll all open at the same time, when I really need to see something beautiful.
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