Everything is as it should be

Everything is as it is.
Therefore everything is as it should be.
Because everything should be exactly as it is.
That is not to say, perfection.
But, rather, compassion.

Everything it as it is right now.
And nothing can be anything else right now.
That which was, is.
And that which is, is.

Change is possible in the future.
Your right now determines your later.
And everything that is then will be as it should be.
That is not to say, happy, joyful, or unhurt.
But, rather, a culmination of life.

Stop wishing right now was different.
Because everything is how it should be.
That is not to say everything happens for a reason
Or that you deserve the sad, lonely, painful, hurt.
But, rather, it is part of life, your life.
Accept it.
Grow with it.
Go forward with it.

If it could have been different, it would have been different.

Dreams and Fairytales

Tonight I realized, with a hint of a tear in my eye, that I am no longer a little girl. Sure I've been filing tax returns for years and buy the majority of my clothes from the women's department (yes, I'm still small enough to wear clothes form the little girls' department when I want to) but I also really enjoy swinging and coloring and cuddling with stuffed animals when I fall asleep.

I'm sure you can remember the bedtime stories your mom or dad or babysitter or nanny told you during your childhood. Cinderella's foot fits in the glass slipper. The frog turns into a prince. Sleeping Beauty is awakened with a gentle kiss. Once upon a time...and then they lived happily ever after. It's nice to think about. Fairytales, the stuff of dreams. The problem is, though, that these peaceful endings, the chance to live happily ever after is all a dream. It's not real. Fairytales don't come true.

It's the other stories, the ones that begin in the dark and end in the dark, the ones that are scary and hard to understand, that come true. It's the nightmares that always seem to become reality--dark, scary, confusing, painful reality.

I was watching the U.S. figure skating championships tonight and remembered being a little girl watching the same thing. I have always been enamored with the sport but it is one that I never really tried. My mom built a ice rink in our yard each winter as I grew up but I never took lessons so I didn't know how to do much more than skate in circles and do close body and sit-spins. Still, I loved, loved. loved watching figure skating on TV. There was something mesmerizing about these women. They seemed so much older than me and so much more beautiful and graceful and talented but they led my heart to dream. I would sit on the couch dreaming of someday being something great. I never thought I would be an olympic figure skater but I had dreams. Honestly, I can't tell you what they were but I know I had them. I know I had dreams, big dreams. These are the kinds of dreams that don't take reality into consideration, the kind that don't care if you don't have the money or the time, or the access, or the talent...that's what makes them dreams. These beautiful young women gracefully glide to and fro across the ice as if they were telling me I could go anywhere I wanted. They stretched their arms wide to show me the world was mine. And they smiled to let me know I, too, was beautiful and could do anything.

Sometime between age 11 and 21, the way I watch figure skating changed. Tonight. though still enamored, I was jealous and felt inferior. These young women were younger than me and people already knew their names, they were already important and on their way to being remembered...and I'm still nobody. Sure, I am important to the people who love me. And there are quite a few people on this planet who know my name, but it's different.

The freedom I associated with figure skating was nothing short of a fairytale. Perhaps it comes true for one girl somewhere, but not every girl like me with their eyes glues to the sequined skaters dancing across the television.

Sometime between 11 and 21, my dreams learned the limits of reality. People don't talk about it, but life is governed by fear...and this now includes dreams. I only dream what I think can actually happen...and I am careful in how far I push that actuality because a dream that doesn't come true at 21 still feels as crushing, if not more, than it did at 11.

We all want happily ever after but for most people, I'm guessing happily ever after means something much different than it does for the princesses in my fairytale stories.

practice, practice, practice PATIENTLY

Let me join the rest of the cyber-world in wishing you a very

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

And now let me tell you my thoughts about this hyped-up time.

SCREW RESOLUTIONS.

I know I'm not the only one who thinks this, but I'm going to say it: I don't think I've ever actually fulfilled any of my new year's resolutions. EVER. Yeah, sure, I'm young, but in all reality, resolutions set us up for failure. Resolutions are  black & white. Resolutions are either kept or they're not. You either fulfill what you resolve to do/be/see/etc or you fail. 

From 10:30 on New Year's Eve until midnight, I participated in my Bikram yoga studio's  silent, candle-lit class to say goodbye to 2012 and welcome 2013 in peace. Bikram yoga is a set of 26 yoga postures practiced in unison in a room heated to 105 degrees with 40% humidity. That is to say, it is intense...then turn off the lights, light some candles, and remove the instructor and shoot dang! you've never witnessed anything like this before. 

For 90 minutes, the only words we heard were "start" when we were to begin a posture and "change"when we were to release. 

START

CHANGE

START

CHANGE

START

CHANGE

Yoga is a practice of the present. It's not something you ever master. It's not something you ever cannot do. It's not something that is ever the same one day to the next. We come to the room and practice. We practice challenging our bodies and and practice being kind to our bodies. We practice mindfulness of the moment and practice letting go. And when we drift from the view of our goal, we reign ourselves back in. 

This year, I resolve to PRACTICE.

I'm not going to promise any results will be accomplished.

Instead of kicking myself around the moment I fail, I will change and start again. This is called resilience. I will start and change and start and change and start and change and I will probably fail to keep this mindset but the beauty of my promise to practice is that falling short is not just okay, it's necessary. 

So while I check off the January days of watching people come in the the gym once or twice because they've superglued themselves into a straightjacket of fitness or whatever other "resolutions" people have made, I will walk forward and practice getting back up each time I fall. 

Take that!

It's new year's yoga style.

The theory of ENOUGHness

First of all, "enoughness" is a word.
Freshman year, my theology professor told me that all good theologians make up words. Therefore:

By the power vested in me

by the paper in my file designating me, 

Emily Marie Clark,

as a theological studies major,

I hereby declare "enoughness" a word

to be given equal respect and consideration

as all other formerly declared words.

Now that that's cleared up,

not that anyone was questioning the legitimacy of my vocabulary,

let's get down to business.

I wrote the synthesis paper for my independent study this past weekend. Dr. Julie Rubio and I had been reading about and discussing various ethical problem areas of modern American society and asking ourselves how we, as Catholics, are called (or if we are called) to respond? I was not going to be satisfied with vague or flimsy answers. I wanted practical suggestions that were flexible enough to tailor to my life experience but firm enough to stand the test of time and the scrutiny of Catholic morality. 

For the paper, I was to hash all that out in 12-15 pages. 

We read over a dozen books.

We touched on at least five different problem areas (I call them 'isms').

And so my process looked like this:

I didn't have enough time or space to write anything close to what I wanted to write, but I wrote 20 pages anyway. And around page 5, I explained what I've come to recognize as the driving force, the common denominator that connects all these 'isms' (individualism, racism, consumerism, materialism, classism, environmentalism). I call it the theory of enoughness...if you hadn't already guessed that.

Here's what I wrote:

Through the books I have read and other personal experiences I have had as a member of American society, I have observed a struggle within the culture characterized by an inability to sense when enough is enough. I am not the first to acknowledge a societal focus on “having” enough rather than “being” enough but perhaps I may be one of the first to point to a problematic element in the existence of a focus on either form of “enoughness” The shift from “being” to “having” has likely occurred because “being” falls to qualitative rather than quantitative measure which seems subjective and, therefore, inadequate or, at least, unreliable. As a result, Americans tend to lose their sense of Self while yearning for conformity and ‘the next big thing.’ With no sense of Self ‘having” allows people to overly-rely on external gauges to guide their determination of what is enough. The difficulty in measure, however, does not come from the need to be or to have but rather the context of enough. The ‘isms’ represent a dysregulation of the American sense of “enoughness”. Becoming desensitized to and struggling with “enoughness” causes power issues with relationship, food, sex, money, and goods. We see this power issue expressed in the stereotypes, discrimination, and oppression of others and ourselves that results from a disconnected relationship with the sense of enough.

GOT IT?

Here's the skinny:

Americans are on this treadmill of "the more the merrier" and "bigger is better."

The treadmill makes you work hard but never gets you anywhere.

Meaning: you're in a race that doesn't really matter, racing for things you'll never get.

But culture forgets to tell you that.

And so your endorphin high keeps you from knowing when to stop.

So your sense of what is enough dies.

And you end up hurting yourself and others in the process.

So, step 1 to making things different:

Remember it.

Believe it.

Live it.

And tell everyone about it.

Until next time,

may you find peace.

Merry Christmas.