That means that for the first time in what feels like about six years, I genuinely have had trouble describing to people how I'm doing. When I sat down to silence this morning, I realized that I have spent almost no time this week remembering what I've done, and so I barely felt that I knew who I was, this week. Meditation started with a few images, and the reflections flowing from these images comprise most of my writing today. But in real time, they shifted away within a few moments. It's disorienting to have so many thoughts I could expand on for what seems like endless periods of time. When silence ended, I felt like I'd barely started letting go and entering the peace I normally sink into after a minute or two.
I biked to Meeting this morning because rides didn't seem like they'd quite work out, which meant just under half an hour of physical activity each way. The bike I was borrowing has rusty gears and a slightly flat tire, so it was a bit of a chore, but it got the job done. Rather tired and staring into the glass of water I'd filled up for myself, I felt the last sip I'd taken moving down my throat and had a moment of strange connection to it. The water in my throat - was it quite a part of my body yet? When is it the water in the glass and when does it become part of my own being? The line is really so grey. We are only made up of that which we take from around us. It reminds me of what Kim Ranger said when I was talking to her after meeting today: that when we eat, we not only have communion with that of God which Christ reveals to us, but also everyone around us; and not just with the people present, but with everyone that helped prepare the food and everything that went into the food - all the animals, all the plants, all the things that fed these animals and plants. The water moving my throat had become me, and I had become the water. I'm not going to commit fully to this idea, but I think it's worthwhile to wonder whether the water still in my cup was part of me, as well.
When I took communion at church, I never did it without significant amounts of deep and unique reflection on the act. I prided myself on it. I never once took communion the same way I had at some other time in my past. It had a sacred quality to it, and not because anyone had told me it was so, but because it symbolized something I thought was important at the time: the breaking of a sacrificial offering for us in our miserable fallenness. One of my first blogs was about the topic. I loved how grotesque and graphic it was, because it mirrored the grotesque nature of sin. I didn't realize at the time how unhelpful this kind of understanding of human nature was - needless to say, I have since turned from this mode of thought. I'm saddened by the way self-injury and the doctrine of Total Depravity combined to turn this element of my teenage faith extremely sadomasochistic.
It's been months since I last took communion, so my understanding of it is considerably outdated. It was uncomfortable to talk to Kim about it afterward when we were having potluck, because my thinking has changed so much since I left that tradition (and thank God I have been able to change this way) that barely any of the things I used to think about it are authentic to me anymore. I definitely still value Jesus as a figure, but for completely different reasons. The act of chewing no longer symbolizes my own daily, horrific, sinful crushing of an innocent human body to me. Instead, I think communion would mean to me that the process of eating becomes a reminder of the cyclical community that is life. The Spirit of Jesus is present in every meal, every quotidian routine. He is the average, the normal, because if we open our eyes and see the God in the lowly, we are more deeply able to understand our own humanity (and our participation in God).
The second image started as a rounded droplet of water from the glass I was holding. It came into view the moment I closed my eyes. But within a couple seconds, it had become a donut hole - a hollow donut hole, with a little creature inside it, a little insect, a little man, a little ball of energy with legs and a mouth and a very large appetite, that was scrambling all over, eating it up from the inside out. Like James and the Giant Peach. There was a recurring dream I had as a very young child that extended sporadically into my adolescence and adulthood where objects - ants, thimbles, wine glasses, picknick blankets, peaches, wooden dolls - would be distorted from intricate, complex, harsh, and
pointy to flaccid, smooth, fuzzy, and overwhelmingly soft. From piercing laughter, bright colors, and sharp-edged faces to endless, undefined, dark, dough-ish mires of silence and static. It would often bounce from one to the other unexpectedly, which had a very jarring effect on my poor 4-year-old mind. I still remember the first night I had it, and how difficult it was for me to process such a dream, one without any plot or dimensions or time or concrete measures of size or distance. There was a particular character that sometimes showed up - a little male wooden puppet-doll-thing, like Pinnochio's manic great uncle. He moved extremely quickly and he was unpleasant to look at because the edges would seem to cut your eyes. He wasn't an angry or unhappy character, though I never quite realized he was as happy as I suppose he was. It was simply frightening and intimidating to be in his presence. I think he was chattering about something he wanted to tell me, something that was important or funny or interesting, but his words were never distinguishable and his laughter felt like sandpaper, and he'd come closer and closer and ...
The little creature in the doughnut hole today was a very shrunken variant of this character, and he was stuck inside this strange incubator. Straight glucose - straight energy. (It goes with the same motif I described earlier - the smooth mire would've been lipids.) So the longer it "chattered" - the longer it violently scrambled, raced to chomp up tiny pieces of this giant hollow donut hole, the faster it went, and the more complex it became, so the more sugar it got, and the more vicious and crazy and sugar-hyped and happy and scary and more and more and more and - !!
That's when I realized that as happy, as content, as functional as I have finally figured out how to be, my spirit has had no rest. No internal-harmony type peace. No chance to just calm the fuck down. And that's not because I've had no opportunity for relaxation - my life hasn't been busy as much as it's been full. I just needed to breathe for a moment and debrief my life in the presence of God, the Light, he Spirit, where I could see properly, so I wouldn't just keep incubating my inner scary puppet man.
So, as boring as it might be to the rest of you, I figure I should grant this post a summary of my past week.On Sunday, I had a long conversation with Hielkema about his recent engagement. I hadn't seen him for a few days since it was announced, and it was wonderful to see him - not only for that reason, but because we always end up talking about such fun things. The conversation had gone in a number of very different directions by the end, and I ended up getting to bed very late. It was worth it.
Of the next day I remember very little except that I made the decision not to skip choir to spend more time at the Chemistry help session, and that choir stressed out my voice a lot that night. I remember feeling very unprepared for Chemistry.
Tuesday was the day I decorated a sugar cookie, had a short conversation with Monique, and Chem lab was cancelled, allowing me to study for my Chem midterm the following morning. After taking a four-hour-long nap that afternoon instead of going to Super Secret meeting (our LGBT discussion group), I studied Chem for probably four hours, after which I was much less overwhelmed, but extremely tired. After Chem Help had ended, I got a cup of coffee to calm my nerves and grant me a moment of peace. Because I'd lost my ID card, I hadn't eaten anything but a sugar cookie and tons of
dried blueberries and almonds that day. Not being on a meal plan even for a couple days granted me a different sense of freedom - a deeper understanding in my gut that food doesn't appear out of the cracks in the walls like I kind of feel sometimes in the dining halls. In the Fishouse (our coffee shop), there was an open-mic where people were telling stories. Just being given the opportunity to laugh for a couple minutes, sipping a latte (extra foam), made schoolwork seem tolerable again. I even managed to finish my Biology assignment on top of Chemistry.
On Wednesday, Jim Lucas came to SAGA and I had the wonderful opportunity to spend some time talking to him. I still hadn't found my ID, so I had three pieces of pizza at SAGA. A member of the current leadership suggested to me that I apply for leadership next year - which I already have - and it probably made my day, though I don't think I realized it at the time. To have someone recognize that I'm good at something and confirm my ambitions in this avenue in particular is still a miracle to me.
Most of Thursday morning, I had a SAGA booth shift, selling shirts with Jakob. The rest was hard studying for a Religion test I had later that day - I had gotten a few hours of studying in before then, but the material was so exciting that I just ended up reading Second Isaiah instead. I spent from 1:30 until 4:10 writing my test, even though class ended at 2:50. The prompts were basically tailor-fit to provoke in me the desire to write a couple long rants about all the ways I've redefined Christianity this semester. Then I had a conversation with a Annaka and Stensen and Hielkema on Common's Lawn - it was finally sunny again - and went to dinner at 5. I went grocery shopping with Sam and spent some time catching up with him, hearing his stories. He and I stopped by at the Smoke Pit to hang out with Arie, Foisy, Anders, Sam Camp, Jakob, Zach, and perhaps a couple others I've left out. Among our conversations was one where my gender was compared to Jakob's, who is MTF transgender. The opinion was that I'm less feminine than Jakob, and I realized with shock for just a moment that I'd interpreted such a statement as a compliment. I still have much internalized sexism to work through. My company was very surprised to hear about the way I used to understand femininity. The rest of my evening was occupied by Biology homework.
Friday was the day we all wore the SAGA T-shirts we'd been selling and took a big picture on Commons lawn. It was awesome to see how much bigger the group was than last year's. Psychology was a bit perturbing that day (especially to Jakob), and I had a couple meetings for conversation with Foisy and Grant, my RA. Then it was off to dinner, where I had a great conversation with someone with whom I've wished to rebuild connection with for some time. That was followed by Korea+, a concert-type event run by the Korean Students Association on campus. It was certainly more impressive than I was expecting, and I was glad to have attended. The women's choir I'm in sang a Korean folk song there - we were the only American performers. I went to Johnny's looking for company afterward and found Monique, and we were later joined by Lizz, blonde Mary, Jakob. The only other thing I did that night was to write a blog I hope might get published by the Transgender Education Collaboration, with which which I've been wanting to get involved.
On Saturday, I slept in until noon and then joined Jeff, Foisy, Sam, and Hielkema for a Dream Theater listening party. We went through two albums, Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence (which I know very well) and Scenes from a Memory (which I have been meaning to get to know for many years). Scenes from a Memory just about blew my mind - Jeff and Sam and I had some great conversation about it after the other couple had left.Barely any of these things even have to do with all the stuff I'm learning in classes. There was a time when I would sit down routinely after every day and write about everything that had happened, everything I'd thought and learned, so that I would not become buzzy like I am now. But I cannot describe the release I have now, having simply put down a couple sentences to serve as place markers for every day - evidence that I did them, that they didn't go to waste. Perhaps now that crazy little demon puppet can be put to rest.
When I had finally wrapped my mind around the existence of the past week, I realized I haven't read back through the thoughts I'd finally managed to put on paper during my religion test on Thursday. It was a meaningful couple essays, and I couldn't remember exactly what I'd written. So I got out my phone - I'd had the foresight to take pictures of my essay booklet before I turned it in - and just barely finished reading as Meeting ended.
So there it was cut short, and I am about to start another week of blogs and science and latte foam and queer things and music. Deep breath. Here we go. Let's do this with a little less buzz this time, please.
(The scary puppet man - head tilted, legs crossed, eyes wide - grins and nods in agreement.)
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