Messiness and the Beauty of Synchronicity
Yesterday was a snowy day in Boston. If you're a southerner like I am and are therefore unaccustomed to frequent snow fallings which more northern regions of the country experience on a regular basis, perhaps you're picturing a romantic scene. In this scene are glistening crystals of precipitation spread across roofs and lawns like white blankets, unscathed by human hands or footprints of muck and residue from car exhaust telling of daily commutes and meetings. All is quiet; the sun shines on these white blankets, beckoning play and rest.
But no, that wasn't yesterday's snow day at all. Instead, picture layers of wet snow, sleet, and rain forming puddles of muddy slush, gathering on top of snow from weeks past which has collected on curbs and edges of sidewalks, standing stagnant and covered in dirt. Now picture me, heading to work and slowly finding my footing along the slippery sidewalks of busy Boston intersections, getting a splash from car tires now and again and a smile that once beamed at the day's possibilities slowly disappearing from my face. I'm wearing a hat, a long coat, and juggling a shoulder bag, a Trader Joe's grocery bag with the day's lunch, and a coffee thermos in hand. As my first bus arrives, I sink down in my seat and already feel defeated by the weather and traffic.
Needless to say, I felt the weight of this heavy, mucky, gray day for most of my work hours. Staff meeting and my co-worker with whom I share an office relieved much of the dreariness with their stories and laughter, but for the most part I felt unmotivated and sluggish, wanting rather to be tucked in bed reading Howard's End or watching a movie and occupying very little mental space. I left the church about 6:00 to grab a bite, hoping that a change of scene would help me summon enough energy and enthusiasm to make it through the Vestry meeting I was to attend that evening.
I was met with the same gray demeanor upon exiting the church. As I sat on the bus to Davis Square, I read an article written about Bill McKibben, founder of 350.org and one of the nation's top climate authors and activists, about the urgent need for Congress to reject the proposed Keystone XL pipeline--a rejection I rallied for a few weeks ago in Washington, D.C. After reading, I began to feel a bit more present to myself; I was taken to a place within where the gentle but persistent stirring of what I know to be the Spirit, and its call for change and movement, was present. The weight of the weather and the sluggishness it had brought to me throughout the day, however, also made me feel anxious. Climate change, and many of the other justice issues that I and my peers and fellow spiritualists/activist folks are working on, are so daunting. I felt like David next to Goliath, carrying a few wimpy stones and a slingshot.
A few minutes later, as I caught the bus back to the church, I came across a link posted on the Facebook of a friend of mine in the Diocese of MA. It was an article on fossil fuel divestment published by Rolling Stone. I read it, encouraged, inspired and challenged by its words, and commented on my friend Nicholas Hayes' Facebook indicating my sentiments. Nicholas responded with a comment along the lines of, "We can make this happen. Welcome to the scheme team." The rest of my day was made. I'm not a particularly superstitious person, nor do I often necessarily think that events that seem related to one another are beyond coincidental, but I do think that something--something beyond myself and my tendency to get caught in my head and my feelings of insufficiency--drew me to read those articles about a movement that challenges me and sets my heart on fire. Reading them and being able to connect with a friend about creating a movement was a moment of liberation for me--a moment of being found in the wilderness of this Lenten season, this Boston season of lingering snow and cold before the long awaited dawn of spring.. Despite all of the forces that I believe keep us blind from the negative effects our way of life has contributed to the harm of the earth, I have nothing but gratitude for God's continuous drumming in my heart, for my new friend Nicholas and his ability (whether or not he knew it) to pull me out of my slump and into the promise of building community, and for the possibilities of joining God and others in a spirit of redemption.
Praise to the Creator for synchronicity.
But no, that wasn't yesterday's snow day at all. Instead, picture layers of wet snow, sleet, and rain forming puddles of muddy slush, gathering on top of snow from weeks past which has collected on curbs and edges of sidewalks, standing stagnant and covered in dirt. Now picture me, heading to work and slowly finding my footing along the slippery sidewalks of busy Boston intersections, getting a splash from car tires now and again and a smile that once beamed at the day's possibilities slowly disappearing from my face. I'm wearing a hat, a long coat, and juggling a shoulder bag, a Trader Joe's grocery bag with the day's lunch, and a coffee thermos in hand. As my first bus arrives, I sink down in my seat and already feel defeated by the weather and traffic.
Needless to say, I felt the weight of this heavy, mucky, gray day for most of my work hours. Staff meeting and my co-worker with whom I share an office relieved much of the dreariness with their stories and laughter, but for the most part I felt unmotivated and sluggish, wanting rather to be tucked in bed reading Howard's End or watching a movie and occupying very little mental space. I left the church about 6:00 to grab a bite, hoping that a change of scene would help me summon enough energy and enthusiasm to make it through the Vestry meeting I was to attend that evening.
I was met with the same gray demeanor upon exiting the church. As I sat on the bus to Davis Square, I read an article written about Bill McKibben, founder of 350.org and one of the nation's top climate authors and activists, about the urgent need for Congress to reject the proposed Keystone XL pipeline--a rejection I rallied for a few weeks ago in Washington, D.C. After reading, I began to feel a bit more present to myself; I was taken to a place within where the gentle but persistent stirring of what I know to be the Spirit, and its call for change and movement, was present. The weight of the weather and the sluggishness it had brought to me throughout the day, however, also made me feel anxious. Climate change, and many of the other justice issues that I and my peers and fellow spiritualists/activist folks are working on, are so daunting. I felt like David next to Goliath, carrying a few wimpy stones and a slingshot.
A few minutes later, as I caught the bus back to the church, I came across a link posted on the Facebook of a friend of mine in the Diocese of MA. It was an article on fossil fuel divestment published by Rolling Stone. I read it, encouraged, inspired and challenged by its words, and commented on my friend Nicholas Hayes' Facebook indicating my sentiments. Nicholas responded with a comment along the lines of, "We can make this happen. Welcome to the scheme team." The rest of my day was made. I'm not a particularly superstitious person, nor do I often necessarily think that events that seem related to one another are beyond coincidental, but I do think that something--something beyond myself and my tendency to get caught in my head and my feelings of insufficiency--drew me to read those articles about a movement that challenges me and sets my heart on fire. Reading them and being able to connect with a friend about creating a movement was a moment of liberation for me--a moment of being found in the wilderness of this Lenten season, this Boston season of lingering snow and cold before the long awaited dawn of spring.. Despite all of the forces that I believe keep us blind from the negative effects our way of life has contributed to the harm of the earth, I have nothing but gratitude for God's continuous drumming in my heart, for my new friend Nicholas and his ability (whether or not he knew it) to pull me out of my slump and into the promise of building community, and for the possibilities of joining God and others in a spirit of redemption.
Praise to the Creator for synchronicity.
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