Monday, January 4, 2016

The Heart Not Stilled

“Have you ever wanted something so badly that you just lose perspective of it?”
Rodrigo, Mozart in the Jungle

It’s Christmas break, 2015/2016, and I’ve spent most of my time during this much needed break spending time with the people I love, and pondering all of the directions I’m moving in. I have recently felt the Holy Spirit teaching me patience in many areas, and I continue to be reminded daily of my reliance on His guidance in some difficult decisions I need to face, and directions I am being pulled in. Yet, I struggle to quiet my restlessness, to slow my pace long enough to pray and wait on God’s lead. I have spent the past year in full-fledged busyness, trying to work on productivity in work and school, and intentiality with people, among other ventures. I don’t know anymore what adaptability and performance looks or feels like without directing my attention and energy in several directions synchronously.

How can I pause and reflect without losing ground in some area or another?
How can I calm my mind long enough to sit in awe of God and speak to him about my cares and concerns when my mind never wants to slow?
How can I be still and know that He is there, and not be sorting through something or pushing forward, even in my mind, when I am forced daily to compartmentalize so many directions and move in all directions at once?

It’s not that I don’t have the desire, it’s that I haven’t been able to figure out how to stop my mind long enough to fulfill the desire.

How did I get to this place?

A year ago, I was still feeling new to my job that I started in September 2014. Besides facing the daily challenges of work (and loving it, by the way!), I was attempting to compartmentalize my academic studies to only when I was at home, which was brief spurts of time during evenings and weekends. Even with a full-time job, and a full-time academic schedule, I was also working on refreshing my faith by joining and attending a local Perspectives class. Through that class, my mind and heart were opened to a world of possibilities, fears, concerns, questions, doubts, hopes, and insecurities. I started exploring what my life would look like if I focused on investing in people more, and especially if I began trusting God in some brand new ways. I honestly feel that I poured myself into those goals, whether I reached a destination of some kind or not. All of that was during the first 5 months of the year. In time, I finished my academic semester, Perspectives concluded around the same time, and was getting my feet on the ground at work. I was refreshed, reawakened, and simultaneously exhausted.

By summer, I was ready for a break, but I decided I would continue my academics with a summer class. I had momentum; I didn’t want to lose it. Somewhere in the middle of summer is when it happened to me though. I was going along on my journey, and it hit me all at once that I felt like I couldn’t slow down. I was missing things with people I wanted to be spending my time with. I was so determined to do well in work and school that I began to take myself too seriously in both areas. I was skipping going to church or seeing my friends and family because I needed time to study, or sleep, or do my laundry. Because even simple chores like throwing dirty clothes and some soap into the machine, felt taxing to me. My priorities were all screwy, and I felt that I was to blame. It was my fault for choosing to take a summer class. It was my fault for thinking that I could focus on self-improving, and succeed at it, while also investing in people. Throughout this part of my year, something inside of me yearned to disconnect from everything. The busyness that I started my year with was suffocating me. The hopes of growth that I had in mind at the beginning were now doubts and frustrations that blocked my ability to find pleasure and joy in the simple things I had once cherished. Everything was something scheduled, everything was mundane. It was like I had begun a marathon without preparation, and I was beginning to notice that I could no longer control my legs or feel the fire in my lungs; I couldn’t stop going, I had no capacity for adjusting my pace, I had no reference point for how I was supposed to handle my new experiences.

Then, with little intermission, my summer responsibilities turned into my fall responsibilities, but by that time in the year, it didn’t matter to me anymore what the season was. There were days or weeks at a time that were completely dictated by deadlines, which, really, when you think about it, equaled months, and even an entire year that was dictated by deadlines and schedules. By that time, I was used to telling people I couldn’t see them because I had to write a paper or study for an exam. I was used to reading textbooks on my lunch break, then spending hours every night studying, and looking forward, not to the weekend, but to the X’s I used to cross off the many assignments I had on my calendar. In September, I heard the pastor at my family’s church was offering a systematic theology class, so I prayed about it for a few days, even though my mind was made up: I would take that class too, because it sounded like something I needed in my life, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity. It’s funny how the choice to not miss one opportunity can lead you to miss other things; like free time.
(I should insert here that even though I sound resentful of the burden of deadlines and schedules, I also believe that those things are good for me, because without them I can get overwhelmed with not knowing what to do next. The issue I was facing in the crux of the semester was not a lack of abundance; it was the weight of abundance in every direction. I was overwhelmed.)

The blur of the year ended with the blurry end of the fall semester, some quality time with friends and family, and a whole lot of consideration about what’s next. For the past few weeks, I’ve found myself feeling unsettled by the lack of busyness I became accustomed to for at least the past 11½ months. Which, brings me back to my opening questions:

How can I pause and reflect?
How can I calm my mind long enough to sit in awe of God and speak to him about my cares and concerns?
How can I be still and know that He is there?

(Notice this time I wrote each question without an excuse at the end.)

 My impatience with myself, my life, reaching goals, crossing items off to-do lists and calendar pages, has brought me to this place. My ability to pause and enjoy has become overshadowed by my impatience. My ability to be hard working and successful without compromising my time with the people I love has been tinged with impatience. My ability to sit before my Lord and Savior and lose track of time has been lost to my impatience. My capacity for appreciating the abundance in every direction is hindered by an anchor of impatience. Already, just a few days into 2016, I can feel myself being pulled in many directions, with the weight of impatience in every direction. My prayer and my hope for this year is to embrace the power of patience. In relationships, in health goals, in financial goals, in my academics, in work accomplishments, and whatever else 2016 brings, I hope that I can re-learn patience unceasingly. A year from now, I want to be able to reflect on all of the rewards and blessings that came from trying to be patient in all things. A year from now, I would love to look back and see evidence in my life of waiting on God to lead and guide me, of responding to that guidance with more patience, and action. I want to have that discipline overflow from my prayers; into my mind, into my heart, into my attitudes, into my emotions, into my behaviors, into my actions, and into my relationships.

 “…And the vessel was not full, the mind was not satisfied, the soul was not calm, the heart not stilled.” From Siddhartha (pg.7), by Herman Hesse

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