Luxury and Perspective
I didn't think it was possible, but autumn has come and made the east side of Atlanta pretty. These trees turn colors too, it turns out. Not like the Tennessee ones, but in their own way. Instead of pollen my car is now covered in yellow and red crunchy things, and soon there will be nothing to cover it, which is great news for someone who never washes her car but bad news for someone who isn't ready to admit winter is coming.
I don't have the luxury of time anymore. My weeks are never ending, speeding along like Marta trains on infinity loops that begin where they are supposed to end. The to-do lists grow long each day and no moment can be wasted until night comes back around. It's a busy life, this work-and-school life, trying to make sure neither one screeches to a halt or goes up in flames.
I don't have the luxury of shopping anywhere except Walmart and the world market, because there is a foreseeable future in which I will be unable to pay rent. I part with each dollar reluctantly, hoping I won't have to give up the whole affair and move back home.
But there are a few luxuries I do have. I'm educated, and more so every day. I get to spend my busy hours writing about things that matter, and I get to look at the world through the lens of theological education. I have the luxury of working at a yoga/pilates studio that I believe in, and imbedding myself in the fitness world of this city. I have the luxury of wearing Lululemon leggings to work, which I can no longer afford but remind me of that one time when I could. I have the luxury of running every day because my body and spirit are able. And I have the luxury of beginning to build a life around these things, with people I like, for a greater purpose, to make the world around me reflect the Kingdom a little more every day.
It's all really hard and horrible stuff. I would say it's the hardest season of my life, but then I think about the summer of 2010 in Russia and that still takes the prize. This is really hard and horrible and important in a different way, but it's still high-ranking. Maybe second place.
The truth is that things are pretty bad, if we're talking money and time. But they're creating a gigantic storm that I'm actually right in the eye of, because God keeps getting me up and dressed in the mornings and letting me fight out each day. He lets me kick and scream with defiant hope that I can do it, and it's all good, and I have some dried lentils in the cabinet I can survive on for another day or two. And I always get to nighttime and realize I had enough today: time, food, gas in the car.
All I know is I had enough today, and I'll have enough tomorrow.
I get to practice having only just enough, which is actually what Jesus seemed to prefer. I get to practice relaxing and keeping my heart rate down, which in practical terms looks like taking more yoga, breathing, meditating, praying, singing, and choosing to stop thinking around 10pm so I can fall asleep at night. I get to practice drinking water because coffee is expensive and diet coke isn't good for me anyway. I don't know, I guess I get to ponder what it looks like for Jesus to come through for me in this type of difficulty. He comes through in pretty mysterious, unconventional ways for me materially and (more importantly) spiritually, because the easy, "right" answers don't do much anymore. I'm in the storm, but I'm in the eye of it.
Perspective is the thing. Awareness. What you are conscious of becomes your reality. I'm choosing to be conscious of things like breath, which in yoga is called Prana but we know is really the Holy Spirit, the Hebrew ruach, the life of God in us. We have the life of God in us. I think if we put our attention on things like that, instead of money and fear and stuff, everything would change.
I don't have the luxury of time anymore. My weeks are never ending, speeding along like Marta trains on infinity loops that begin where they are supposed to end. The to-do lists grow long each day and no moment can be wasted until night comes back around. It's a busy life, this work-and-school life, trying to make sure neither one screeches to a halt or goes up in flames.
I don't have the luxury of shopping anywhere except Walmart and the world market, because there is a foreseeable future in which I will be unable to pay rent. I part with each dollar reluctantly, hoping I won't have to give up the whole affair and move back home.
But there are a few luxuries I do have. I'm educated, and more so every day. I get to spend my busy hours writing about things that matter, and I get to look at the world through the lens of theological education. I have the luxury of working at a yoga/pilates studio that I believe in, and imbedding myself in the fitness world of this city. I have the luxury of wearing Lululemon leggings to work, which I can no longer afford but remind me of that one time when I could. I have the luxury of running every day because my body and spirit are able. And I have the luxury of beginning to build a life around these things, with people I like, for a greater purpose, to make the world around me reflect the Kingdom a little more every day.
It's all really hard and horrible stuff. I would say it's the hardest season of my life, but then I think about the summer of 2010 in Russia and that still takes the prize. This is really hard and horrible and important in a different way, but it's still high-ranking. Maybe second place.
The truth is that things are pretty bad, if we're talking money and time. But they're creating a gigantic storm that I'm actually right in the eye of, because God keeps getting me up and dressed in the mornings and letting me fight out each day. He lets me kick and scream with defiant hope that I can do it, and it's all good, and I have some dried lentils in the cabinet I can survive on for another day or two. And I always get to nighttime and realize I had enough today: time, food, gas in the car.
All I know is I had enough today, and I'll have enough tomorrow.
I get to practice having only just enough, which is actually what Jesus seemed to prefer. I get to practice relaxing and keeping my heart rate down, which in practical terms looks like taking more yoga, breathing, meditating, praying, singing, and choosing to stop thinking around 10pm so I can fall asleep at night. I get to practice drinking water because coffee is expensive and diet coke isn't good for me anyway. I don't know, I guess I get to ponder what it looks like for Jesus to come through for me in this type of difficulty. He comes through in pretty mysterious, unconventional ways for me materially and (more importantly) spiritually, because the easy, "right" answers don't do much anymore. I'm in the storm, but I'm in the eye of it.
Perspective is the thing. Awareness. What you are conscious of becomes your reality. I'm choosing to be conscious of things like breath, which in yoga is called Prana but we know is really the Holy Spirit, the Hebrew ruach, the life of God in us. We have the life of God in us. I think if we put our attention on things like that, instead of money and fear and stuff, everything would change.
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