Last week I just couldn't. Well, my laptop was dying. And then my printer wouldn't install. But all that within the context of everything that well, you know... So last week there was no new post.
This week, I still can't, not really. I can't find any new research that intrigues me. I can't bear the thought of yet another rant. I am determined not to spread any more pain.
But there's pain out there. There's pain in here. And this blog is about the things I can change. So this I will do.
I have a spiritual discipline that I am using to walk through these days. I am a Christian, and this is a Christian discipline, or series of ancient practices - though my guess is that nonChristians can find something of value here. I will do my best to do some translation.
Every morning, I turn. Whatever happened the day before, today I recommit to follow Jesus, or to follow the Way of Love.
Part of my turning is to repeat the Serenity Prayer. In the Episcopal Church, Morning Prayer begins with the Prayer of Confession. But many years ago, I replaced it with the Serenity Prayer. My own version shifts from time to time. Lately I pray:
Grant me the serenity to face what I cannot change.
Grant me the courage to do what I can.
Grant me the wisdom to know the difference.
The Recovery Movement uses this prayer on a daily basis and does not presume theism on the part of the one who prays it. Define the one you are addressing any way that you want. Serenity, courage, and wisdom - those are the kernels.
Then I learn. I read my sacred Scriptures. I follow a set series of readings called a lectionary from Hebrew Scriptures, New Testament, and Gospels. They renew my sense of my larger context in the faith community, all the people who have endeavored to follow the Way through dark days, those people who live in the Bible and those who have looked to the Bible ever since it was written. The Koran, poetry by Mary Oliver or Rumi, substitute what catches you and connects you to something bigger than yourself...
Then I pray. And this may be the place where I lose even some Christians, because this is where it gets hard. I pray for my enemies. But hear me out. Remember the Rabbi's prayer for the Tsar, God bless and keep the Tsar... far from us! Jesus said to pray for our enemies. And I do, something along the line of He's your kid; you deal with him. I pray it sincerely, knowing that God's will for each of us is better than we can ask or imagine. So I can leave it at that.
One of the consequences of praying for my enemies is that I do not become them. I inoculate myself against the disrespect and cruelty that passes for public policy these days - to the extent that I am able.
Then I worship. Now don't get stuck here either. The Recovery Movement lets everyone define their own Higher Power. I have heard of somebody who took gravity as his Higher Power. The point is to acknowledge that I am not the center of the universe.
And that is a point worth repeating: I am not the center of the universe.
Then I bless. This may strike you as bizarre, too, unless you are familiar with my bent frame of reference by now. But seriously, this is my spiritual discipline: I go to Twitter and then to Facebook and find some way to be generous and kind. (It's easier on Twitter, fewer family triggers.) I comment on somebody else's tweet. And it doesn't have to be some stereotypically "blessing" sort of comment. Any kind of nontoxic engagement, any show of interest in what somebody else has posted is a gift.
That's where this discipline really begins to bears fruit - it sets my perspective and my relationship to the world.
Then I go. At some point in the day, I try to engage in a positive way with somebody outside my bubble. That's not as easy as it used to be in maskless days.
Finally I rest. Because I am not the center of the universe, because I can face what I cannot do (see above), and because this whole way is not easy, I have earned and I am able to rest. Or play Candy Crush.
Nah, I am struggling, too. But my prn meds are lasting a lot longer than I might have expected.
And from an existentialist perspective, the Way of Love is simply the way I have decided to follow. I commend it to you.