The Habit of Being

The letters of Flannery O'Connor compiled into the 600+ page book entitled The Habit of Being allow Flannery to be understood in a way no biography could replicate. She has been one of my favorite authors (William Faulkner also fills this role) for about five years in which time I have read all her short stories and her first novel. I loved her for her writing then and now I love her for the woman she was never ashamed to be.

A former professor lent me The Habit of Being two and a half weeks ago and as I finished the last pages at the end of last week, my gratitude for that random question ["have you ever read anything by Flannery O'Connor?"] multiplied. I'll admit that I have purchased my own copy of this book on amazon and look forward to rereading it after I reread Flannery's work.

The letters contained in this book are to her publisher, agent, various editors and contacts at universities, her fans and even Flannery's closest friends. As such, the reader gains unparalleled insight into Flannery's personal habit of being.

She was hilarious.
She was scarcastic.
She was Catholic.
She was honest.
She was humble.
She was a perfectionist.
She was hopeful.
She was afflicted.
She knew her strengths.
She appreciated her friends.


Normally when I read a book or watch a movie that contains a character I appreciate this much, I end up subconsciously attempting to emulate the person. For some odd reason, though, this is not the case with Flannery. Perhaps it is because I'm subconsciously aware that I'm already very similar to this woman or I suppose it could also be the result of appreciating her for who she was as well as what she produced and knowing that my talents lie elsewhere.

Flannery had an uncanny understanding of grace and on many occasions tried to explain it to her contacts. Being that grace is one of the theological concepts I have yet to understand, I found the passages dealing with the topic to be quite insightful and theologically astute.

By living in a way that necessitated growth in virtue as well as a deep understanding of humanity, Flannery acquired "the habit of being": an excellence not only of action but of interior disposition and activity that increasingly reflected the object, the being, which specified it, and was itself reflected in what she did and said.

All I can really say is that I have been changed by reading this book. As is my hope with all entertainment I seek, I have been changed for the better--in many ways I am yet unaware of.

Love: is it worth it?

Eros.

Philia.

Agape.

Storge.

Love.

No matter how you say it, love exists as a reaction to another person/object with pleasure.

The feeling we call love stems from a release of various hormones in the brian. I don't mean to get annoyingly scientific, but it's true--love is the result of copious amounts of hormones being dumped into the bloodstream. Therefore, the feeling could (if we wanted to do it) be manufactured.

So is it all that special?

 I don't know.

And I'm not equipped to answer that.

But, I have another question:

is it worth it?

Is letting your personal happiness fall contingent upon another person logical or worth the inevitable pain?

We love our dogs.

Then cry when we have to put them down.

We love our spouses.

Then are wracked with jealousy when they look at another person

or we suffer heart-break when they pass on.

We love our friends.

Then feel abandoned when they leave.

We love our skinny jeans.

Then curse the world when they rip.

We love,

but then we hurt.

Pain is love's sidekick. 

Like tan lines and summertime.

No matter how hard you try to avoid it, you can never fully escape.

So, is it worth it?

I'm a control freak and so the idea of letting my happiness be contingent on another person seems totally out of character. But at the same time, I know humans have a need for connection. If we were meant to be alone, we would be so. If humans were designed to live in seclusion, there would be only one person on the earth, there would be no communication, there would be no love. Love exists because of the human desire for interpersonal connection. So...love is natural. And, therefore, pain is also natural. 

It sucks but that's how it's supposed to be. And who am I to mess with natural order?

I still don't know if it's worth it. 

But now I'm really thinking...

God is Love (1 Jn. 4:8).

God so loved the world...(Jn 3:16)

...Love covers all wrongs (Pvb. 10:12)

Above all, love each other deeply...(1 Pet. 4:8)

As a Catholic, I believe that God is good. Apparently, if God is good and God is Love then by the commutative property, Love must also be good. I suppose this still doesn't answer the question of love being worth the pain or not, but I'd say that if God is omnibenevolent and totally perfect then if He chose to love, it's probably in our best interest to as well. Through love, we can grow more like God. This is, most certainly, a good thing.

Clueless

The more I think about the future, well, my future specifically, the more anxiety crowds around me like Italian men on a bus in the middle of Rome. (yeah, it stinks too)


I've just recently come to the acknowledge the fact that I really have no idea what I'm going to do with my life after college. If this is still the case two years from now, I will for sure be headed to grad school to further delay the need for a decision to be made. I've always been a student. I've always dreamed about what I was going to spend my life doing. For as long as I can remember, this was something I could think about with leisure. Well, time's a ticking.

What I do know is this...

I will get there...

eventually. 

In my case, there is no straight and narrow. 

There is no direct route. 

I take two steps forward, seventeen to the side, and then get plopped back on my butt. I'm moving, but I'm moving like a four year-old trying to kick to the other side of the pool--slowly, very slowly.

I want to do what I love. 

I do not want my job to be work. 

Granted, some days it will seem that way, it is inevitable that I will not pop out of bed giddy with two thumbs up day after day. But I intend to enjoy myself during the day. I refuse to fall into the large percentage of folks who come home to gripe about their day of work. Instead, I look forward to coming home to gush about the joys I experienced throughout the day. You may say this is idealistic but you'd be incorrect. This is simply the way it should be. I am spending time in school to learn what I love so that I can then do what I love. I currently love what I'm learning so that's a good start, I suppose. In a small way, I think I may be on the right track, simply because learning what I love doesn't feel like work.

I'm studying theology and social work...Jesus and helping people.

For eight years, I was hard set on being a teacher. Then I was convinced I was going to pursue a career as a hardcore Catholic counselor. And when I understood that I don't want to wait for people to be hurt for me to help, I began looking into youth ministry. But now I'm seeing how I need to refuse to settle. I need to follow these loves I have and let my passions guide me to the next step.

But there's another problem. Two of the best words to describe my personality are controlling and impatient. I'm working on adding fearless.

If you've detected a similarity in the last few posts, it's not my fault, I swear. Clearly, my lack of clarity is at the forefront of my mind. It probably doesn't help that it's graduation season and I'm living at school for the summer and I'm more than half-way done with my undergraduate experience and I'm the child of two people who entered college knowing exactly what they wanted to do (and did it and are still doing it.


Just sayin'.

the journey is the destination

When I was on a home visit two weeks ago, I mentioned to my mother that I was thinking about graduating a semester early. If I don't take at least 18 credits a semester, I get bored and I could have all my requirements taken care of with just another semester and a half. Sitting at the kitchen table, as I walked to the faucet to refill my waterbottle, my mom said,"Emily, slow down. You've always been trying to rush life. You need to just let it happen." 

There an alarming truth 

and a bit of parental wisdom.

She's right.

I have a control problem. 

I also have a short attention span and a free spirit. 

From a very young age, I've seemed to focus on the end goal rather than the process by which I achieve said goal. During the years I swam competitively, I constantly had pieces of bright colored paper with numbers taped to various focal points in my bedroom. These numbers were my goal times for the season. I did not make step by step, short-term goals. I set a big ones that were far in the distance, far from my reach. The goals were always attainable but often not fully attained because I would become intimidated. I focused on what was ahead rather than what was right now. 

My friends Annie and Chris recently bought TOMS whose pattern reads "the journey is the destination." When Annie told me about the shoes, I liked the saying but I hadn't reflected on it until now. 

What am I missing by living in the future?

Why can't I just enjoy this moment?

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about what I'll do after I graduate in two years--will I go straight to grad school or will I volunteer for a year like I wanted to after high school? Where will I go to grad school? Am I going to want a Ph. D. or can I settle for a masters? Will I ever move back to Michigan or is that history? When would be the ideal time to get married? I've been thinking of what classes I want to take to get the best education suited for the field I want to enter.

I always rush through life.

Fact is, I'm gonna miss this.

Someone told me that undergrad is the time when you're supposed to read. You're supposed to read everything you can get your hands on. You're supposed to take any class that sounds even remotely interesting. The classes you take the most of are what you'll graduate with a degree in but that's not something to put your focus on. You aren't expected to have it all figured out as an undergrad. You aren't supposed to be a grown up yet (reference my previous post to gain an understanding of the defining characteristics of grown-up-ness). I understood the words this person was saying but not the concept. As I have witnessed my peers in action for the past two years, it seems as though most of them have it figured out. Most know what they want to do with their life, or they at least have a solid idea, and most certainly know what they do not want to do. But tonight as I thumbed through the Curriculum Vitae of a few professors, I realized that this air of confidence many of my peers seem to exude about their future plans is a total farce. 

These professors are some of the most brilliant and fascinating human beings I have ever known. Both are theology professors. One studied political science at Yale in her undergrad...now she teaches theology. The other played football and studied religion and business administration. After graduation, he went on to successfully work in the business world until religious life caught his heart. Then, he became a Jesuit and furthered his education in theology at Yale, Notre Dame, Oxford, and in Rome. These people I have grown to admire and trust had absolutely no idea what their lives were going to look like when they were my age. They did what they wanted and let life happen. 

This is one of those things that is a choice--a daily choice--but its a decision that is completely up to me. One of the most common things my campers last summer heard me say was "I want you to learn to live in the moment." Good going Em, perhaps you need to listen to yourself. 

Let life happen.

Perhaps the most simple yet difficult task I've ever been charged with. 

"The beauty of the Christian tradition is that it holds grace and human finitude together." JHR

Really? That just happened.

I realize I haven't written in over a week. I apologize but only a little. I write when I have something half-way worthwhile to elaborate on and so my lack of posting is not necessarily only the result of my need for a 25th hour in the day but also an underwhelming amount of thought-provoking moments and inspiring conversations. That happens when you live on a college campus in the summer and especially when you reside in such a place without enrollment in classes. 

Anyway. I was writing about 7 minutes ago. This was a reflection on the societal definition of the beginning of adulthood. I was very much bewildered by the concept since I am twenty years old but still do not feel as though I am nearing the point in time when I am considered "a grown up." Granted, to young children (anyone under the age of 10, I'd say) I am probably considered a grown up...at least kind of. To them, I'm more than "one of the big kids" but something less still than their parents or teachers or the cashier at the grocery store. 


Anyway. As I was outwardly pondering the subject, I worked through a series of questions in an attempt to understand what makes a person a grown up. Clearly, something went wrong because you cannot read this post I currently speak of. Guess....

I answered my own question.

I HATE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS!
Well, I do and I don't.
I like answers. I need answers. I want to know why things are the way they are and how they got that way and if they will change and if they change why they do and so on and so forth. There are answers, I intend to find them. Sometimes though, I enjoy the pursuit. Research papers entail much work but it is work I find enjoyable (if on a subject of my interest) because I so love learning. Many people my age prefer answers to be handed to them. Rarely do college students research questions they do not know the answers to, or better yet, research questions the world may not have answers for yet. I've done both.

Anyway. I answered my own question. I realized that this status, this label of "grown up" is attached to a person who achieves the following: a certain age (this is relative to cultural standards--in America it lies somewhere between the ages of 18 and 22), financial independence, and a certain educational status (again, this is variable to the culture). For example, because he is living at home this summer and my parents do not require him to pay rent or subsidize the food or utility costs, my brother is still not a grown up though he is 22 and has graduated from college.

Good deal. But really. I like ti when I have to work a little harder than simply typing my thoughts out for a few minutes. In a strange way, that was a frustrating experience.