Category: good for the soul

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I stink at Lent, so I suppose I need to embrace it

I’m enjoying a stay-at-home day, which essentially means nothing … same thing, different setting. But I had trouble sitting down at my desk to get some work done because the clutter in my home office is just, frankly, out of control. It’s the dumping ground for all papers and things of “value” that don’t get pitched when the house is straightened. You know, the items one looks at, thinks they’re important, but not important enough to address at the moment.

My desk is a depository for important stuff that is soooo important, the dates have expired, passed me by, and become irrelevent. Yeah, because that’s useful.

A couple of years ago I joined Fly Lady and decluttered my life. Satisfied that I had been effective, I slipped back into my careless ways, which of course brings me to today and a stack of, let’s be honest, crap that has settled into piles all around me.

Don’t get too judgmental, the living room looks nice.

But here’s the problem: that’s external. It’s what a casual guest would see. The truth of my existence lies behind closed doors.

A little like my spiritual life? Hmm. How about a lot like my spiritual life. Oh sure, I say the right things, go to church, give alms to the poor. In public. What am I doing in private? I’m afraid it looks like my office — dusty and not at all conducive to any kind of healthy prayer life. Gotta dust in there, too.

So here’s the plan. I’m going to declutter my body and soul. I’m going to do the 40 Trash Bag Challenge, renewed this year over at Faith & Family (read Danielle Bean’s post here) to declutter my house.

And then, I’m going to do that other challenge, you know, Lent. That one’s a little tougher. I’m usually better with a physical challenge, so I’m going to go on a spiritual diet. A change in my praying habits. If I can find 30 minutes a day to dump the clutter in my life, I need to find 30 minutes a day to fill that void with something healthy.

What that is yet, I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. Rest assured it’s going to start with the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  The point is, I’m going to be exhaling the toxic waste, and inhaling the fresh air.

Join me?

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thistle nor thorn do I grow

When I started teaching last century (ha, that amuses me, so I said it that way) I found myself overwhelmed by a smart group of high school seniors jaded beyond belief. It didn’t matter what we read, it was always stupid and always inconceivable that they could connect with what they considered to be ridiculous scenarios in the stories. It was clear to me as a novice that it was all my fault for failing to communicate the beautiful expression of the human condition found in literature.

Crushed, I shared my disappointment with a veteran teacher who had taken me under her wing in order to save me from myself. She offered me some sage advice that I have almost always followed. She told me never to teach a poem that I loved.

The “almost always followed” is important because sometimes I take a risk and follow my heart. As with any risk, sometimes I win and sometimes I lose. When I win, it’s a beautiful thing.

When I lose (and it happens often enough to make me sad — but not so much that I would quit trying) it makes me sad in a million directions, like a little kid showing her magnum opus to her mommy and being shoo-ed out of the kitchen. Or the puppy greeting his master with the paper in his jaws, only to be rebuffed. Or the teacher sharing a meaningful poem and being laughed at for being sentimental.

Ouch. That last one stings a little.

So, today I did it again. Shared a simple poem that I was surprised to find in a composition book. I found the translation wanting, so I shared the original, too. To a room full of blank stares. And a bored yawn.

Go ahead and rip out my heart and stomp on it, but please do it quickly. Thank you.

Here’s the original poem, a few lines from José Martí called, aptly, Simple Verses/Versos Sencillos XXXIX

Cultivo una rosa blanca,
En junio como en enero,
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca.

Y para el cruel que me arranca
El Corazón con que vivo
Cardo ni oruga cultivo:
Cultivo la rosa blanca.

And here’s the translation that was in the book, and too literal for me:

I grow a white rose,
In June as in January,
For my sincere friend
Who gives me his hand frankly.

And for the cruel man who tears from me
The heart with which I live,
Thistle nor thorn do I grow:
I grow the white rose.

I’m not a fan of that, so I made a minor change which I think captures a different subtleness:

I grow a white rose,
In June as in January,
For my true friend
Who gives me his hand unconditionally.

And for the cruel one who tears from me
The heart with which I live,
Thistle nor thorn do I grow:
I grow a white rose.

I think it looks more balanced, too, with the long 4th and 5th lines. So there you have it, my heart on my sleeve this week. Be gentle.

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in the “those without sin throw the first stone” category

It seems like I’ve been having a little bit of fun with Trekkies lately (please, I know you younger folks prefer Trekker, whatever, Trekkie implies all the geekiness loser aspect of it–from back when it WASN’T cool to like science fiction, and that’s when I liked it).

Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve been enjoying the Trekkie thing, and re-discovered THIS GUY who has a blog and podcast about the Bible in KLINGON!  Save the mockery for another day, guys, okay? I’m actually being serious here. See, I’m even wearing my Starfleet T-shirt to prove my sincerity.

I really think this is cool. I mean, I’m not compelled to go out and learn Klingon any time soon; I have my hands full with the English, but it’s cool that he’s doing it, and it’s cooler still that he does it while providing reflections on some very key scriptural references.

I’m not gonna get my weekly dose of Jesus there, but I think that in the big picture, what he’s doing is both admirable and entertaining.  I’d like to think that when I write a serious post about the Catholic faith, perhaps in exploring my journey through the joy and revelation as it comes clear to me through my reading and understanding the Catechism, that I can help enlighten someone and make their journey easier.

That’s me being all altruistic and stuff. The truth is —  and I promised myself I’d be honest in my writing — the truth is that I write for myself as as way to explore my thoughts and my feelings. So, if you get something out of it, good for you. If you don’t, well, if you don’t then perhaps it’s moot because I can’t imagine why you’d be coming back.

My point is, and I did have one though I seem to have forgotten it, is that this guy is doing something that he enjoys and seems to be benefiting him probably in the same way that my writing benefits me. And everyone who is moved by it as a bonus.  So let’s not tease him today.

Tomorrow, however, is another day and my Starfleet uniform will be at the cleaners, so it’ll be open season on nerds again.

nuqneh?

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