truth and consequences and balance

The longer I live, the more I understand there is no such thing as The Truth and there is no such thing as balance.

My post Monday was no doubt ill-advised.

Suffice it to say it was not well-received. I was specifically admonished because I am a nun, and folks expect better behavior from someone in my position. I get that. We are always righteously outraged when civic and spiritual leaders don't measure up. We expect a higher standard from them.

Unfortunately those expectations have rarely been met... all the way back to the very first disciples. I'd like to point out that the only truly holy One had his own bad days. (Consider the poor fig tree who was blasted for nothing less than doing its job.) But that's another story.

When I say there's no such thing as balance, I mean that both inside and out. Inside myself there exists a fragile tipping point, and, as I'm learning, (and have just learned on a much deeper level) it's easily upset by the energies that swirl around me. This past weekend provided an unexpected learning curve. It wasn't especially pleasant, and it's more unpleasant still, to examine the events, personalities, and myself in the context of all that occurred.

There was more than one disgruntled person on the weekend. One of them (like me) posted about her experience, naming names and giving vent to her own specific displeasure, just as I did. Her experience was her truth, and while some may feel she hurt the Cursillo movement by her anger, I still think she was entitled to express her thoughts.

I was called to task on my public comments (as I'm guessing she was) and my first reaction was defensive. Hey! I didn't mention anyone by name. I tried to be balanced in my assessment... blah, blah, blah.

But of course I was not balanced. I was tired and still annoyed about a lot of things. Any criticism is hard to hear, especially if it's taken personally. My comments were vague. The first reaction could easily be "Who is she talking about? I'm not needy. I'm certainly not inconsiderate. I put a lot of thought and hard work into this weekend. What did she do? Move a few candles around the altar?"

And that would be the truth. One truth. another truth.

So I did not have a "Mountain top" experience. Is that anybody's fault? No, it just is. I don't believe it detracts from other experiences which may have been magnificent. One of the favorable comments about the weekend was that it "ran like a well-oiled machine." Well-oiled machines do run well, but they are messy and greasy. When I examine my own motivations, I admit I was probably just slinging grease. (One of the side effects of working behind the scenes is that nobody knows you're working. I didn't need applause. I just needed some rest.

As I recover, my memory will soften and any annoyance will subside. As I also said in that post, (maybe not loudly enough) if I chunk it down, the weekend contained moments of grace, good information, inspiration and joy.

more wrinkles... damn.

I'm finding new wrinkles when I look in the mirror.

I don't especially mean the ones on my face, although they are definitely there... but the parts of my personality that have changed, are changing... it's scary. I've always known I was an introvert, but now the energy required to stay focused and present in a group setting wipes me out. Totally.

I was away for three days on a Cursillo weekend renewal retreat. If I break it down into segments, little pieces, individual parts... it was okay: informative, fun, inspirational, a good time. If I try to describe it as a whole, it was a waste of my time, a drain on my energy, an annoying barrage of too many people, too many personalities, too many needy, inconsiderate, thoughtless bodies that I was just not up to contending or coping with. When I finally arrived back at the convent late Sunday afternoon, I couldn't wait to hug my sisters... I was so glad to be home! I could hardly wait to sleep in my own bed.

Geesh! Where did that all come from? The truth is I love to travel. I love to meet new people, to experience new ways of being in the world, to learn new information. Apparently living in a convent has stripped away my natural protective barriers, because another truth is also making itself apparent: I cannot stand crowds. This could be a real problem... good thing today was a rest day for me. I slept til 10:00 and took a nap at 3:00. I'm hitting the sack before 9:30 too. Wiped. Out.

oxymoron: spiritual direction?

One of our ministries at the convent is spiritual direction. I was first introduced to the term years ago at a Cursillo weekend. I'd never heard of such a thing. Art direction, career counseling, therapy... those were familiar concepts. But spiritual direction? Shouldn't God be doing that? Well, duh, yes... but do we ever listen?

So it took listening to a human who was listening to me over several years worth of sessions to learn how important (and helpful) the process can be. In our community we actually require each sister to see a spiritual director and it may not be another sister. Space to vent, to speak your dreams, to confess to doubts, fears... with an objective listener, that's the key.

Nobody is totally objective, of course. And some directees are easier to listen to than others. That's the good news and the bad news. Good... because the director also grows as she learns patience and neutrality, bad... because learning those is a whole lot of work. Frustrating, exhausting. Not to mention humbling.

I met with a new directee this morning. What a joy. No growing edges on my patience there. Instead... growing in gratitude, hope, and confidence in God's way of working in the world. Not a bad return on my investment, as the stock traders would say...

so much to say...

so much to do, so little time to do it...

Our life here in community continues to be crazed for the moment. I was away for the last four days on a Cursillo weekend and returned last night. The sister who had been covering all the bases left for her long retreat yesterday at noon, and some of our loyal Associates covered the hours in between. They ordered in Chinese food; everyone had been fed, pilled, and were in good spirits when I entered the room at about 7:30.

I thought I was dead on my feet at the time, but a little leftover rice and Szechuan chicken revived me. By the time I had locked up the house, fed the cat, scooped the poop, tidied up the kitchen, and checked my dozens of emails and phone messages, I was wide awake.

Even the candidates are slightly sleep-deprived on a Cursillo weekend, but for team members it's ridiculous. Two to three hours each night is about the average... our day begins early and ends long after the candidates are in their beds. So... you'd think I would have been ready for some sleep last night. Nope. Memories of various encounters kept flooding my thoughts. (Serving as a spiritual advisor could get addictive.) While I was able to meet with people only briefly, those moments were powerful. The highlight of my weekend was serving on the prayer team at the healing Eucharist.

One of my favorite expressions is: "I'll try anything once." But usually that's only if I'm asked, goaded, or coerced into trying something I never really thought about, nor actually wanted to do. There are plenty of things I've not tried, and laying hands on people and directly praying for them is one. Good thing I had no time to think about it beforehand. It was sort of just sprung on me as we were heading into chapel... oh, by the way, sister... we want you to take one of the prayer stations when the healing part begins.

One of my talks this past weekend was on faith. Time to take my own advice and just do it. My constant prayer throughout was Lord, get me out of your way!!

We talk a lot about being vessels or conduits or channels for the Holy Spirit, but nobody ever mentioned (to me) that the tube actually feels the rush as it flows through. Maybe it was beginner's luck. Thanks be to God.