• About
  • Good Links

flawed but functioning

flawed but functioning

Monthly Archives: March 2015

For Trouble Comes

25 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by K.Lo in musings

≈ 9 Comments

For the last several days, I’ve been haunted by the news of the seven children who died in a Brooklyn house fire.  And then yesterday came news of the plane crash in the French Alps, which killed 150 people.  Tragedy in the news is such a constant that, like many others, I have developed a kind of emotional distance, and while a story might evoke a brief pang or gasp of horror, I move on–quickly and soon–to the normal routines of my daily life.  Realistically, this is a necessity.  If we were to react with the level of empathy we ought to for every event we hear about, we would all be incapacitated.  But something about the Brooklyn fire story has staked a place in my heart, and I have found myself repeating–over and over–a short, simple prayer for the remaining family members and the community around them, whose pain I can only begin to imagine–Lord, have mercy.  Kyrie eleison!  For what else is there to say in a situation like this.

Another thing that’s been swirling around in my mind these days is something a friend wrote to me recently in an e-mail.  We were discussing a piece he’d written for Good Friday that he realized had the potential to be controversial or upsetting for some readers.  It prompted a thought-provoking discussion about what place boundary-pushing art and discussion might have in the church community, and in discussing his piece, my friend said, “Part of why I’m grateful for the Good Friday service is that for one night only, we allow ourselves to sit in the chaos and the pain and the hopelessness. We let Good Friday be what it was: a confusing swirl of horror, all drag and no lift.”

Seven children dying in a fire, 150 travelers crashing into the side of a mountain is all of those things.  One of the ways we tend to respond to this is to try to make some type of order out of it, to frame it some way.  Some of the responses I’ve already seen online are to proclaim the fire the result of blind adherence to religious orthodoxy or as a tragedy out of which God can strengthen faith.  One of the first details reported in the article I read about the plane crash is how no one could understand the sudden descent of the plane to low altitudes but that a black box had been recovered and hopefully will provide some answers.  We seek to explain, to understand, or to blame, and while that’s a natural impulse, it doesn’t do anything to diminish any of the pain or loss.  It doesn’t offer any real protection against future tragedy.  If anything, it is simply an exercise in creating a false sense of control and is an affront to the magnitude of “chaos and pain” afflicting those affected.

We are taught that the role of those of us who follow Christ is to be a light to the world and, in our own flawed and often clumsy ways, to bring life and hope to those around us.  But we can’t really do that if we don’t fully acknowledge and accept that some situations are just incomprehensibly awful.  Good Friday, with all its ugliness and despair, is a reminder of this.

The title of this post comes from Job, whose sufferings include his own friends’ attempts to make sense of all the tragedy and hardship that has befallen him.  They start off as good friends, sitting next to Job in the ashes for seven days and seven nights in silence, weeping with him and rending their clothes.  It’s only when they start to speak, to chastise Job or attempt to explain God’s ways to Job, that they shift from friend to further affliction.  I am all too often the talking friend–the one who wants to advise, clarify, make meaning, or provide direction for someone who is suffering.  And sometimes there are times for that and it is genuinely helpful.  But there are also times to sit silent in the ashes, and this is one of them.

Advertisement

Stasis

01 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by K.Lo in random

≈ Leave a comment

For close to two months now, I’ve found myself a bit down in the dumps, to use one of the more alliterative idioms of our language.  This is nothing new for me.  Had I lived a few centuries ago, they would have said I had a melancholic temperament or “humor” and probably tried some type of purgative or blood-letting that would have been as likely to kill me as help me.  I’ve learned over the years that these periodic slumps are generally temporary and I usually recover from them by simply waiting them out while continuing to live my life.  After all, the laundry won’t wash and fold itself.

But this latest bout has been hanging on a bit longer than usual.  It’s not a full-blown clinical depression where I need professional treatment and medication.  If it were, I wouldn’t be doing laundry.  I wouldn’t be sitting here writing a blog post.  And, in my mind, that’s the kind of state that deserves genuine compassion and concern.  My own lackluster state, on the other hand, has been more of a general listlessness/ restlessness, like some invisible cloud in the atmosphere is siphoning away my energy and capacity to feel excitement about anything while I drift from one activity to the next without any sense of real purpose or engagement.  The words “yucky” and “blah” come to mind, but a more lovely and precise term a friend shared with me is acedia, which has Greek  roots and means a state of apathy and torpor–a sort of spiritual malaise that some early Christian Church fathers believed was a precursor to sloth.

In other words, rather than being an actual illness (like depression), this tends to feel a bit like some kind of self-indulgent wallowing.  Like my soul is currently stuck in whiny toddler mode.  Rationally, I recognize that I have a great life.  With so many people around me experiencing actual hardships and tragedies, I have absolutely nothing to complain about.  But in spite of my rational mind sternly telling my inner toddler to quit its bellyaching (a favorite command of my mother’s when I was growing up) and buck up, I still seem to end up on my couch mindlessly playing Soda Crush on my ipad and/or watching TV while gorging on sea salt caramels far more often and far longer than is healthy.  Which starts to feel pretty crummy and pathetic, especially when I find myself having to pick chunks of salt out of my bra.

What drives me even more batty than feeling pathetic (it takes about two days of this to make me start feeling sick of my own self) is not knowing why I’m feeling this way.  I want there to be a reason so I can address it and bounce back.  One thing I’ve realized might be the culprit (although I also recognize that sometimes there is no specific culprit) is that I don’t know what my “next” is.  If you are a visitor to this site and don’t know me personally, let’s just say that I am an extremely goal-oriented person.  I have to feel like my life is heading towards something or I am purposefully aiming in a particular direction.  While I (perhaps somewhat contradictorily) also really like stability and security–I am rather change-resistant, actually–I’ve come to realize that what truly energizes and excites me is working productively on some type of new project or challenge.  Or planning my next adventure.

When I was thinking back on the last time I experienced this type of extended slump that had no discernible reason (as opposed to the period of genuine grief and trauma I experienced after my mother’s death and my father’s attempted suicide), I remembered that it was after I finished graduate school–after years of high intensity study while working full time, culminating in a master’s degree.  With this goal now behind me and hours of free time ahead of me, one would think I’d have all kinds of energy and my life would become even more enjoyable.  I thought that.  But the opposite occurred.  I found myself constantly listless and bored, and rather than read the many novels I’d put aside for “later” or finally organize the clutter in my house, I ended up watching hours of junk TV.  I went from researching Milton’s use of carnal rhetoric in Comus to watching marathons of “Behind the Music” episodes (you want to know who had a hard life?  Pink did, that’s who).

In other words, give me too much time, stability, and sameness and it leads to entropy.  Last year I had two major “nexts”–I applied for, planned, and went on a really exciting and wonderful trip.  I went through the process of completing and publishing my novel, something I’d been working on for years.  And now I don’t know what’s next.  I also get a little scared that there might not be another next.  I don’t know why having a meaningful job, a house, a lovely family and friends, and all the entertainment I could want right at my fingertips isn’t enough.  It just isn’t.  I am deeply and humbly grateful for all of those things, but I can also recognize that I am wired to need projects and challenges that keep me growing, learning, and creating.

And while writing this post feels like it’s perhaps just one more self-indulgent wallow (the diary entry of my neurosis foisted on you poor, unsuspecting readers), at least it’s writing.  I might not have control over when or how the next “next” will manifest, but I can at least practice some of the habits that position me in a more open and receptive posture.  As my good buddy and fellow over-thinker Hamlet once said, “If it be now, ’tis not to come.  If it be not to come, it will be now.  If it be not now, yet it will come–the readiness is all.”  Of course, this was him talking about death and he gets nicked by a poisoned sword just a short while later and dies.  But I think this notion of practicing readiness applies to life as well.  See?  Look at that.  I’m getting more positive already. And I only ate two caramels while writing this.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Recent Posts

  • Detour / Grandpa’s Love Language
  • Migration
  • You’re What’s Bad About America (and So Am I)
  • The Uncles
  • Holy Week 2018

Archives

  • September 2018
  • June 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • June 2017
  • April 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • August 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • July 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • June 2014
  • April 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012

Categories

  • beauty
  • education
  • family
  • home ownership
  • introduction
  • musings
  • poetry
  • publications
  • random
  • Uncategorized
  • writing

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Follow Following
    • flawed but functioning
    • Join 81 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • flawed but functioning
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar