Idle and Blessed

What is it that makes us run from our pain? Turn our backs, avert our eyes. We are shy of ourselves. We hear the rumblings of the deep and sense the darkness that lies beneath our surface, a darkness that quickens the heart and the feet to run. Why? The murky blackness of our souls is something we are prone to sleep through, like the blackness of the night. There is mystery and terror there. There is the fear that if we face our pain it will rise up and flood our whole self, like an ocean the shore can't stop. I have felt this fear. I see it everywhere. And we turn off our awareness of the dark, we turn on every light in the house, anything to keep away the black corners and keep the monsters under the bed. "Go back to sleep," we tell ourselves, and during the day, "Don't slow down." Run and run and run. Sadness and slowness and darkness and fear are ushered out to the prisons and hospitals, and when our own evil breaks out in the streets, like in Fe...

In the certain corner of Christian life I encountered in Tennessee, the sweet and good and true corner I call home even while trudging out beyond it, I learned the way to true compassion for the Other is to be in relationship with them. At my home church, we did missions that way and I was raised on it. Those summers in Russia, as my dearest and oldest blog readers know, were the days I learned that lesson best. I learned that Christian love and ministry is nothing but solidarity with the hurting, although solidarity can have a thousand faces. Our small and me-centered perspectives are always insufficient and the only cure is to go live from someone else's side for a while. I learned what Russian culture is, how the politics play out in people's lives, and what the prevailing opinion on America is from Eurasia, but what really shapes the person I am today are my friendships with them. They are my family. I miss them like I miss my own parents. And never in a million years wou...

It has either been a million years or 44 days since I last posted. The blog says the latter. Not sure I trust it. It's been one heck of a long, full summer. Actually the whole year has been long and full, and I can't help but look back wide-eyed at how far I have traveled literally and metaphorically. I never thought I had it in me to be a pilates instructor or an ultramarathoner. I didn't know I could actually pursue a PhD or teach a bioethics class in a state prison. I didn't know I was capable of managing a thriving studio or living in a city like this, and yet here I am. It all makes me feel so young sometimes. Like I only barely know what I'm doing in any given area. The best part about being 23 is having the freedom and energy to do all the scattered things you enjoy doing while having full creative license to dream about the future. I dream about a career in ethics, living in places like Colorado and Chicago and Vancouver, hiking the Appalachian Trail and...