Hot air balloons spell out the word “Joy” in the sky; Public domain image.
One of the dearest toddlers in my life has sent me a voice recording to say goodnight for the last 12 days in a row. How lucky am I?
Sometimes we get to participate in joyful rituals with others – the kinds that we come to expect, at least for a period of time, and yet they are received as a total gift every single time.
Hot air balloons spell out the word “Joy” in the sky; Public domain image.
Last night, I asked a simple question on Facebook, and it turned into a special experience of sharing together. I asked, “Would you share with us a joy-filled picture you’ve taken in the last month?”
As of a few minutes ago, this post has 141 comments with visual snapshots of joy in people’s lives. This reminded me that people love to be connected and identified with the people and experiences they love.
What about you? What images are present on your phone, or perhaps, present in your memories from the last month? Maybe we should open that app and look again or simply visualize them in our minds.
An array of breads in baskets and on plates. Public domain.
On the other side of lockdown and social isolation, I keep thinking this:
“I want to make memories.”
Life is too short not to be moving in the directions we desire. I don’t mean this solely in a morbid way, though indeed, life can be literally quite short. Primarily, I mean that life can be unpredictable, and some eras of time are disruptive. In such times, I hope we have enough social resources and inner resilience to be adaptive.
Yet even in those times, we might ask ourselves, “What is something I can look forward to today?” It might be a small gesture, comfort, or intentional act. It might get us through.
And when life is more smooth, why not choose to make memorable moments on purpose?
I like this poem from Mary Oliver. It’s entitled, “Don’t Hesitate.”
Don’t Hesitate by Mary Oliver
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, be very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Yes, joy is not made to be a crumb. So why not plan memorable moments purposefully? And enjoy them when they show up unexpectedly?
A heart-shaped stone, lying on a table. Public domain.
At some point, likely already when we were very young, we began to internalize a cultural message that told us increasingly, “If you ask for what you need (or perhaps even reveal you have needs) you are burdensome.”
Where does this come from? If we reflect for a moment, it’s probably rare for us to believe people are burdensome when they share their needs with us. Why do so many people then fear being burdensome when expressing their own needs? Why does that fear come over us?
Even people with the most privileged identities fear this. For instance, how many men fear revealing their emotional needs and expressing them with others? And people with large financial needs or large health needs constantly have to navigate this landscape of internal fears.
So… if so many of us feel this way about ourselves… but not others… and those others don’t feel this way about us… Why are we living this way? Clearly, we do not have to live with these narratives. It is morally neutral to have needs. In fact, it is beautifully human.
So if no one has told you lately,
It’s okay to have the needs you have. It’s okay to express them. It’s okay to invite people around them. It’s okay to make asks within them.
It’s okay to be a person with needs. It’s okay to need.
I had a chance to visit a lighthouse yesterday. I climbed to the top and thoroughly enjoyed the view of Lake Huron. It was a really gorgeous day, and the blue of the water and the blue of the sky seemed to amplify each other.
As I climbed to the top, the tour guide was funny, engaged, and clearly connected to this place. This was not because he had memorized lines to say, but because he clearly loved where he was and what he was doing. He was very grandfatherly, witty, and playful with the kids on the tour.
It’s lovely to see people connected to places they love, and it feels energizing for communities to connect around those places.
Whatever you do, and whatever you love, keep shining bright, friends.
A strawberry flavored cocktail; Public domain image.
We sat at an outdoor table, ordered food from a QR code, and discussed what our lives were like during the long lockdown before vaccination. My vaccination was full at the beginning of May, only two months ago. Somehow, it seems much longer than that. My young friend had spent the year overseas on a Fulbright fellowship, and she was able to get her second dose just recently. It was lovely to reconnect, and it was clear that for both of us, our sense of time is still a bit muddled — how long ago did this happen? or this?
As we told our own stories of isolation, both the struggles and the valuable aspects of what we learned, we talked about a time that is still present in our bodies and a time that still has some present impacts. But we were also aware that this new era of time is so different and in ways we welcome.
We were dining together, after all. Midway through our dinner, we decided to taste each other’s cocktails. “We went from total lockdown to sipping each other’s drinks,” she said. It’s the small, routine things that bring this home.
A bit later, I looked up and saw a friend I have not seen in person in a long time. She was walking down the street and spotted me. Immediately we gave each other a big embrace, and then we started planning a time to get coffee or lunch together. “We just run into each other now! This is a thing again!” I exclaimed. It’s the small, routine things that bring this home.
Our attachment style — secure, anxious-preoccupied, fearful-avoidant, or dismissive-avoidant — has a big impact on our we perceive ourselves, the world, and our relationships. Each has its strengths, values, and triggers. And at any time, we can work to move our own attachment style toward security.
In order to do this, we have to be aware of our own patterns.
I’d like to introduce a Youtube Channel to you. I have learned so much from Thais Gibson, the creator of the Personal Development School. She shares videos daily on Youtube, and I find them to be so insightful.
A person lies down on a white bed; Photo: CC0 Public Domain / Pixabay – Stocksnap
Are you feeling pandemic exhaustion? I don’t mean being tired of a pandemic going on; I mean feeling fatigue regularly now that we’ve moved through the lockdown stage of the pandemic.
This hits home with me. I just don’t have as much energy.
I know this is likely temporary, and it’s helpful (though sad) to know this is a phenomenon many of us are experiencing together.
“What should I watch?” I wondered, scrolling through Netflix.
I saw that the show “Manifest” was trending as number one on Netflix, and I was grateful for the reminder to try it out. I had recently seen a commercial for the finale, and I wanted to see Josh Dallas’ “new” show. He plays one of the main characters.
The premise of the show is that people board a plane from Jamaica to New York City, and when they arrive, five years have mysteriously passed. Their loved ones all thought they had died, but now they have a second chance. I thought the show was new because it was trending so high on Netflix, but it has actually been on for three seasons, and it was recently canceled. I had a laugh at that, realizing that so much time had passed, just like the plot. Meta.
It’s an intriguing drama, and though I am obviously behind on knowing about this show, I am very proud of Josh Dallas. That’s ultimately what this post is about.
Actor Josh Dallas is from my hometown, and I did high school theatre with him when he was a super cool senior, and I was just a mere freshman. We also had the same voice teacher, and since she loved to brag on her students lovingly, we probably heard about each other from time to time. Well, I know I heard about him; I wouldn’t expect him to remember me since was younger. But all of this is to say, I happen to know he’s a nice guy in addition to being really talented.
It’s really lovely to watch people thrive. We all knew he was going to make it in acting, and he really did. It’s lovely to see it.
Image Description: Hands holding communion bread and a light-colored chalice of wine. Public domain image.
After more than a year and a half, I stood at a table in the physical presence of church community, and I broke bread, poured a cup of wine, and prayed beautiful words about love. We then shared this bread and this cup together in the presence of one another.
I was so grateful for this experience yesterday. It was, no doubt, long awaited. I was also reminded that we’ve been connected throughout this entire pandemic. That felt true, and not merely an analogy of some kind. In fact, I met every single member of this church community over Zoom. I’ve been leading worship with them since October, but yesterday was the first time I’d met any of them in person. Yet when they arrived, I greeted them by name as people I’ve come to know.
This is all true, yet it was so special to say, “This bread is the Body of Christ, given for you,” and “This is the cup of salvation for you,” knowing that most of them were right there in front of me.
And others were still connected on Zoom. We plan to keep this form of connection going too.
This bread is for you. This cup is for you.
That’s been true the whole time, and it felt very special yesterday.