June 22, 2011

Unexpected Realities

This morning, I'm sitting on the front porch with my laptop, trying to write an article for a grant foundation's annual report. They're paying me to write this article. I have an MFA in creative nonfiction now, and this is something that I should be able to do - hands down. And I can do it, and I will do it, and when it's finished, it will be a good, publishable piece of writing.

My process of writing is excruciatingly frustrating. Yesterday, while trying to transcribe an interview, I cried in the middle of the coffee shop. I really don't want to do this. I don't want to be a journalist.

This is fine. I don't have to be. I think I got into writing because I like to write theological reflections. I can do those. But I'm not writing. I do, however, have to write this article.

I'm not writing anything these days. I say I'm working on a book, but the book is conveniently on hold until this article is written. Then vacation will come. Then subbing yoga classes. I want to write that book this summer, but I'm not sure that it will happen. Ever.

To be honest - the joy of writing is gone for me, and has been for quite some time. I blame it on the MFA, just to have a scapegoat. I still like sentences, but right now I get more of a kick out of helping students write them than writing them myself. I wish I knew how to get the joy back.

Instead of joy, I have guilt. Guilt for not writing. Guilt for a degree that I don't know how to use. Guilt for not being as academic or as literary as some of my colleagues at the university. Guilt for having a whole summer of being unemployed and not waking up every morning to the page. Guilt for not being able to write "good enough." These are not new feelings, unfortunately. They're old feelings from other parts of my life, and they're spilling out into my writing self. Great. Now I get to deal with them here.

I think I get to deal with them like yoga: instead of being mad that I didn't do "a full hour of yoga" (who decides an hour is "full"?), I can celebrate that I sat on the mat last night when I couldn't sleep. "I made it to the mat!" I say to my Self, and Self and I have a small celebration.

Hey Self - this morning you wrote 192 words already on your article. What do you say?

Self stares at the other 1500 words to be written. Damn Self. Why do you always have to see the glass as mostly empty?

*

The other day I wrote a post about turning 30 and hallelujah. Most of the time, Self and I do feel that way about life. But sometimes... this is not where I expected to be at 30.

I don't think I expected to have a book published yet. I don't know when I thought that should happen. I don't think I expected kids yet. I did expect to be married (check). I didn't expect to have a house. To be grounded. (I'm not complaining... just... sorting through my head.)

I expected to be on the mission field with a job full of purpose and meaning. (Okay. That sentence just came as a surprise out of the deep, cloudy sky - yet I find that it rings true.) I guess I expected to be living uncomfortably in a different country on what felt more like a Louis L'Amour adventure.

When I left the ministry and theology to pursue writing, I didn't expect to lose my love of writing. I didn't expect that at 30 I would feel careerly-adrift, struggling with a summer of unemployment and free-lance while struggling even deeper with writing. Never mind that I can't go back, that I don't believe the "mission field" exists in the same clear-cut way I thought it did before I left.

In its own way, I suppose, this is an inner Louis L'Amour adventure. Self has been kidnapped by the bad guys of grouchy - and they are everywhere. Somewhere out there is one lone cowgirl named Joy, who appears to be Blondie's twin. I hope she finds me, guns a'blazin'.

June 10, 2011

30: All of these lines across my face...

...tell you the story of who I am...

Tonight Brandi Carlile performed outside downtown Pittsburgh as part of the Three Rivers Arts Festival. As she took the stage, she said it was probably the largest crowd she had ever performed for.

Nearly four years ago, in October of 2007, I saw her perform for about 100 people on Bigelow Boulevard, outside the Cathedral of Learning on Pitt's campus. At the time, I took her performance - which I could attend free, as a Pitt student - as a sign from God that I should live in Pittsburgh. Her first album, The Story, was soundtracking my move and adjustment to Pittsburgh.

...it's hard to let the miles pass me by...

I was lonely and didn't yet know anyone I could call and say, "hey, come see this no-name singer with me." So I walked to campus for the concert on the middle of a Saturday afternoon. She had already started performing when I arrived. I watched her last five songs from the sidelines - as much sidelines as there are when 100 people watch a concert in the middle of the street. The songs were love songs.

I walked home crying. Lucky thing it was through a park and no one saw.

I was 26 years old - "entering my late 20's," I remember telling my mother, who then said that 26 was too young to call "late 20's."

...wishing I was 10 again, so I could be your friend again...

On Monday, I will turn 30.

30.

This hasn't been a major mental deal for me. 2010 and 29 took care of that - with the marriage, the graduation, the no-longer-being-a-student, and the homeowning. Turning 30 just feels like it seals the deal: I'm an adult. No, more than that. I'm maturing, or something.

I suppose it also means admitting that I'm no longer 13, no longer wishing for my drivers license so I could drive to the pool instead of beg Mom for a ride.

...these days we go to waste like wine, turned to turpentine...

Tonight when Brandi took the stage, turning 30 started to gain significance. But I couldn't put my finger on it at first.

She was different. Different from Oct 2007, I mean. She looked... matured. I wish I knew a better word for it. Like she knew she was a little bit country and a little bit rock-n-roll. Like she knew who she was, and who she was belonged on that stage.

And I realized that her concert symbolized something in me, not her.

Who I am belonged...
...in the audience watching and singing along.
...dancing with one of my favorite two-year-olds during her rock-n-roll song.
...sitting on a blanket with Kylie, who is no longer a random existentialist.
...finding that that the random people who sat down next to us were people I knew from Pitt.
...in Pittsburgh.

In her encore, Brandi Carlile admitted to lately listening to songs of the 80's. She played a bit of Madonna, and a bit of "Forever Young." She's been listening to the 80's because she recently turned 30.

When she admitted that, Kylie whispered to me, "This is your birthday concert." I knew the lines next to his eyes, even as night crept over the city.

For her final song, Brandi Carlile sang, "Hallelujah" - the Leonard Cohen song, not the chorus.

...your faith was strong but you needed proof...
...it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah...
...the holy or broken Hallelujah..

Hallelujah.

April 22, 2011

Good Friday

Two years ago, you said you loved me.
Two thousand years ago, He said it too.

January 06, 2011

Books Read in 2010

This list seems shorter than usual, primarily because of the whole board game thing (see previous post). Other reasons: adjusting from student life to "regular life" (whatever that is). Writing books. And moving twice. Makes sense, no?

These are in no particular order.

Heat Wave by Richard Castle
Naked Heat by Richard Castle

The Outstretched Shadow by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory
To Light a Candle by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory
When Darkness Falls
by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory

Let Your Life Speak by Parker Palmer
A Hidden Wholeness by Parker Palmer

A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin
A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin
A Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin
A Feast for Crows by George R.R. Martin

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
The Pilot's Wife by Anita Shreve
On the Wings of a Dragon by Cora Taylor
The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Lit by Mary Karr
The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick

Hordes of Business Books, including:
Bury My Heart at Conference Room B by Stan Slap
Good to Great by Jim Collins
Common Purpose by Joel Kurtzman
The Five Dysfunctions of a Team by Patrick Lencioni
Getting Naked by Patrick Lencioni
Death by Meeting by Patrick Lencioni

The Bedford Guide for Writing Tutors

Kylie is reading The Dark Tower Series aloud to me -
The Gunslinger by Steven King
The Drawing of the Three by Steven King
The Wastelands by Steven King
Wizard and Glass by Steven King


Started in 2010 and still reading...

The Subtle Body by Stefanie Syman
For the Time Being by Annie Dillard
Grace Eventually by Anne Lamott
God in Your Body by Jay Michaelson


Hmmm. This list seems pretty formidable to have a disclaimer at the beginning. Nice job, self!

January 05, 2011

2010: The Year of the Board Game

So, during the Snowpocalypse of February 2010, Kylie and I discovered that our love of board games ran several fathoms deep. It's been fun.

Since Kylie records every game we play on BoardGameGeek.com, I don't even have to guess what our top ten games were: I can look it up. Here, in order of most played, are the Top Ten Games Played in 2010.

1. Race for the Galaxy. A card game where you race to build your galaxy first. Probably my favorite. Wins the award for the second-most-complicated game to teach anyone (We've only taught one other person).

2. Dominion. A deck-building game that has taken the world by storm with a majorly new way of playing board games. A fast-paced card game, this game is just fun. Wins the award for the game that is closest-to-a-speed-game-that-Kylie-will-play. (I love speed games. Dutch Blitz, anyone?)

3. Small World. Kind of like Risk, you have to fight to take over the world. Unlike Risk, you only have eight or nine rounds to do it. In my book, this game wins the award for game with most punch-out pieces (my favorite!).

4. Alhambra. A tile-laying game where you try to build the best city with the most consistent wall. We bought the big box with five expansions, and when we play, we add a new element to the game each time. As a two-person game, it's a little weird because you play with a dummy third person we call Dirk. Wins the award for game where people can't mess with your stuff.

5. Carcassonne. A tile-laying game where you try to get the most points by building cities and roads. My other favorite game. Wins the award for easiest game to teach others. Also, the iPhone has a great interface for this game.

6. Forbidden Island. I'm not really sure how this game got on the list, other than that it plays quickly. Really, it's like a two-four person solitaire game where you have to save all the valuables before the island sinks away. Wins the award for game on the top ten list with most ambiguous feelings surrounding it.

7. Dominoes. So... before Kylie I had never realized that there is a REAL way of playing dominoes, and that stacking them all up in a line to knock them down is not it. Kylie knows the game so well that he knows which pieces I will play before I play them. Wins the award for the pieces of the game that are hardest to hold in my hand at once. (Honest - try holding five dominoes in your hand, all facing you.) Also wins the award for best smack talk with your mother-in-law.

8. Battlestar Galactica. The game that started our avalanche of board games. Can you get to Earth before any number of things goes wrong? Good luck! Wins the award for most complicated game ever + best psychology + longest time play + best board game based on a television series. Not for two players or small children due to sharp, essential pieces.

9. Voltage. A strange game where you and your opponent vie for fuses. Honest. Wins the award for strangest game (not to be confused with weirdest game: Summoner Wars, which did not make the top ten list even though it probably should have).

10. Citadels. A strange little card game where you change characters each round and get to thwart your opponent while he tries to build a citadel. Of course, he can also thwart you too, which gets to be a little vicious. Wins award for most psychological card game.


More than anything, I think this list testifies to why my book list for 2010 is so short! The narrative is in the game... we'll see what 2011 brings...

December 17, 2010

On Grandparents, Birthdays, and Anniversaries...

Today, my Grandma B is 85 years old. Yesterday, Grandpa Tony would have been 80 years old. Yesterday, I was glad Grandpa wasn't in pain anymore - that he could spend his birthday pain-free, wherever he is now. Today, I'm super sad he's not around to celebrate their 80-ness together.

Is it strange that I miss him more today, on Grandma's birthday, than I did yesterday on his birthday? I guess I don't think so. After it occurs, death seems to be harder on those left behind than those it takes. It's easy to celebrate Grandpa's life - it's harder to envision the hole he left behind in Grandma's life.

I'm not there to see the hole. In my memory, Grandpa still lives with Grandma, sitting in his chair and talking back at the televangelists and news anchors. In reality, he's not there. Through my mom, I know Grandma's doing okay, but she's a bit lonely. If I didn't know that my cat's claws would pierce through her clothes, I'd send her Coconut to keep her company.

Mom and Dad are with her today, sharing their 33rd anniversary with Grandma's 85th birthday. I'll send my love to Grandma through their hugs. I wonder what Grandma felt 33 years ago when they got married on her birthday? I doubt she cared too much - Grandma's not one to be too sentimental.

Grandpa was the sentimental one. Grandma, I think, is more even-keeled. (Brouwer Clan, you can correct me if I'm wrong. I just have long-distance perspective here.) I know they didn't have the greatest of relationships, but they sure did weather a lot of shit together. At the end of the day, there was love.

Last night, Kylie and I celebrated our first anniversary. A little early, but we've got some commitments on Sunday that prevent celebrating on the actual day. We don't mind. We're both pretty darn sappy, and celebrating whenever was fine with us. We've had a wonderful first year filled with a ton of change; moving twice, buying a house, celebrating the end of the MFA, and saying goodbye to Grandpa were the biggest changes, I suppose. We enjoy each other's presence through all the changes, and for that I'm so incredibly thankful.

It's humbling to see people - my parents and grandparents (on both sides, really) - so far ahead of us on the journey. Along the way, I want the stubborn love my grandparents had, and I want the play my parents have (Dad still pulls Mom into the pantry when we're home). We're definitely blessed with models of lasting marriages!

Geesh - okay - deep thoughts on a Friday morning! All the birthdays and anniversaries got me thinking, I guess. It's a good season for remembering and celebrating life. I'm so thankful for my grandmother's life, for the faith she's passing on, and for 85 years on this planet. And I'm thankful for the gift of knowing how to crochet doilies and potholders.

Happy Birthday, Grandma!
Happy Anniversary, Mom & Dad!

Love to you all...

November 16, 2010

Thinking

When I teach on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I often run into AW in the Cathedral of Learning. Whenever I walk away from AW, I'm always stunned by how much actually goes on in my brain, and how much of it just came pouring out of my mouth.

I'm not quite sure if it's AW's listening ear that incites this, or the fact that AW sees me at the beginning and in the middle of long days that have entirely too many people interactions in them. In an effort to keep my mind free to process the interactions, everything else just comes tumbling out. Or perhaps AW is just that trustworthy (she is).

On any given day, these are the things that mingle in my mind:
-the aims of education
-the explosion of conversation about race and culture that happened in my classroom
-something about yoga (my research or my practice)
-my relationship with the church
-musings about marriage
-the business market research that I might be doing
-the difficulties of writing someone else's book in a genre you don't know
-how to tutor an esl student effectively
-Kylie's latest favorite board game
-anything about God
-being tired
-students who don't turn in essays
-students who keep me after class to wax philosophically
-the state of the mfa program / new hires
-reconciling missions with God
-job hunts

When these bouts of logorrhea occur, I'm struck by just how much I think about in such different areas (right now the big topics are: education, business, religion, yoga, & relationships). Then I realize three things:

1) how hard I am on myself in all of the above topics
2) how much nicer I need to be to myself about my thinking because I really am juggling a lot of thought real estate
3) I need to chill out.

And then, generally, I do chill out. So, thanks, AW, for the subconscious reminder to chill out. Profuse apologies for distracting you from your work. :) Thanks for listening.

November 04, 2010

Influential Authors

This exercise is going around Facebook, but I'd rather post it here.

The Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen authors (poets included) who have always influenced you and will always stick with you. List the first 15 you can recall in no more than 15 minutes, and they don't have to be listed in order of relevance to you.

1. Madeleine L’Engle
2. Richard Rodriguez
3. Annie Dillard
4. JRR Tolkien
5. Elizabeth Kadetsky (in person)
6. Flannery O’Connor
7. Anne Lamott
8. Kathleen Norris
9. Elizabeth Gilbert (not in a good way)
10. Father Thomas Ryan (in person & in book)
11. Louis L’Amour (influence? maybe not – stick with me? yup)
12. Sister Elaine MacInnes
13. Lila Abu-Lughod
14. Patricia E Wrede & Robin McKinley
15. Maxine Hong Kingston (in person & in book)

November 03, 2010

Wee Bit Wednesday

{one} do you still use a checkbook?
yes. it's fun.

{two} what size shoe do you wear?
43 European. American size varies - and women's shoes generally only go up to size 42. :(

{three} scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings. this question feels like a false binary.

{four} do you prefer spontaneity or stability?

both - although on a scale, stability might win out.

{five} what is the most embarrassing cd that you own?

michael w. smith's "change your world" - although i might have given it away by now.

{six} do you watch reality tv?
no. drives me nuts.

{seven} what is your favorite home-made meal?
see now, this question is interesting: "home-made" could mean most anything. right now, i'd have to say my husband's philly cheese-steaks made with home-made seitan.

{eight} do you have any allergies?
ragweed. mold. dust. pittsburgh's very clean air.

{nine} if you could open your own restaurant/store, what would it be?

some sort of combo between a bookstore/game store/coffee shop/yoga studio. tables would be used for board game nights, studying, and writing workshops.

{ten} would you ever go skydiving (or have you been)?
no. (no.)

November 01, 2010

Inner Dialogue

This post is a duplicate of one on my other blog, Imperfectly Whole Yogi. I'm still trying to figure out its identity. If you don't know that I post there, you should.

T
oday was one of those days. You know the kind: you work and work and work and see no progress. You thought you'd worked the whole morning on something, but at the end, the result was... dissatisfying. In my head, the dialogue sounded like this:

"You've been working for an hour now - what have you read that's worthwhile? What have you written that's worthwhile? Two sentences?! You have two sentences? Seriously, now - you can do better than this."

By lunch, I was mentally spent - and I had nothing to show for it.


Lately, on my days writing from home, I've been stopping at noon for some pre-lunch yoga. It seems to work better than morning yoga. The backbends feel aMaZiNg after a morning of slouchy-computer-pose.

Today I cranked the music and the heat up and began some serious sun salutes in an effort to sweat away my sluggish mind.

Monkey critical mind wouldn't stop, though. It kept going. "You're doing this pose wrong. You should go deeper. Oh! Congrats on stretching that hamstring. Now go deeper. Careful on the low back with that Up-Dog -- you're bending too far. Careful. Careful. Oh - and you must be doing something wrong because I'm still thinking."

Mantras didn't work. Ujjayi breathing didn't work. Changing the music didn't work.


So I turned the music off and sat with the voices in my head. They were the same voices I had heard at the computer earlier. The same mean monkey voices.

I breathed - alternate nostril breathing.

In my head, I focused on my breath. I focused on remembering something else, too:

Last week, a friend talked about her work as a psychologist in a classroom of troubled students. She said that it was hard to measure success in such a classroom, and that she had to choose small victories every day as success. I remembered thinking that on days I write, I need to adjust my measure of success.


Adjustment: A successful day of writing starts with healthy, positive inner dialogue.

So does any successful yoga practice. Thanks, yoga mat, for readjusting my thinking today - yet again.

October 14, 2010

"You have forgotten the faces of your fathers"

So, Kylie and I are reading the Dark Tower series by Stephen King, and this idea of the "faces of your fathers" always comes up. Roland, the main character, often invokes the fathers as an admonishment to his friends: "Remember the faces of your fathers" or "You have forgotten..." In Roland's world, it has sacred connotation, as if by remembering your ancestors, remembering where you came from, remembering whose you are will help you complete your task straight and true. Help you live true.

This morning, Roland sent me a text message: "Buen dia. Check out 'The imitation of Christ' by Thomas a Kempis, ch III, pt 3." (Okay, so it wasn't really Roland, but it might have been Ka.)

I got the message while I was on the bus to school--where it was standing room only on a rainy morning. I was crabby: I didn't sleep well last night; didn't get enough done yesterday; felt K.O.'d by the world; had to face Long Thursday. I got to school, prepped for classs, taught class, and sat down to eat my lunch, pulling up "The Imitation of Christ" on the computer.

I'm not quite sure why Roland sent me to this chapter except to say, "Chin up, girl, quit your whining. You have forgotten the Face of your Father. Remember what you're here for."

Here's what jumped out at me from a Kempis:

"Be thou ashamed, O Sidon, for the sea speaketh."[32] And if you ask why, listen to the cause: for a small gain they travel far; for eternal life many will scarcely lift a foot from the ground. They seek a petty reward, and sometimes fight shamefully in law courts for a single piece of money. They are not afraid to work day and night for a trifle or an empty promise. But, for an unchanging good, for a reward beyond estimate, for the greatest honor and for glory everlasting, it must be said to their shame that men begrudge even the least fatigue. Be ashamed, then, lazy and complaining servant, that they should be found more eager for perdition than you are for life, that they rejoice more in vanity than you in truth.

Sometimes indeed their expectations fail them, but My promise never deceives, nor does it send away empty-handed him who trusts in Me." (emphasis mine).

Oh. Right.

Why am I here (existentially)? What am I working for? A trifle?

No. I work because work is inherently good. It is good to work, to be part of society, to put my talents to use. (see Image Bearers III when it comes up.)

Why do I live? Ah-a different question. I don't live to work myself into a worried, complaining frenzy. I live... to be. (see earlier posts) I live to be a reflection of God. I live because I exist.

I might not fight shamefully in the courts for a pitance, but I sure to fight shamefully inside myself, berating myself when I don't work enough hours or when I'm not effective enough with my time.

The point: for a bit of time, I have forgotten the face of Jesus, who wants me to live with a whole heart and who wants me to trust. Oops. Forgot that.

For today... I want to remember the faces of my fathers. (Not the Protestant work-ethic ones. Go back further: The Grace One.)



There's more I could say, but I gotta go do that work thing. Chau.

October 13, 2010

Inquiry

Right now I’m encouraging my students to break out of the five-paragraph essay format of writing that they’ve always known. I’m asking them to write something called Inquiry. Inquiry is the new thing in education.

I first ran across the word when I was working with the Western Pennsylvania Writing Project two years ago. A few of their members had spent three years “performing an inquiry” into the WPWP—where its strengths and weaknesses were, etc. It seemed that “inquiry” was the word the humanities used when they were doing a study. In business terms, this questioning into one’s own organization is compiled into a report called “white papers.” Every discipline has a way of questioning its own processes.

So what, then, am I asking my students to do? I keep telling them that an inquiry is an essay with a Thesis Question rather than a Thesis Statement. Instead of declaring what inquiry is, as a class we explore what inquiry is together. This makes for a complicated class. Instead of declaring what they know in a really one-sided, persuasive way, I’m asking them to question what they know.

It’s an inquiry into what they think.

This blog post was a quick inquiry into what I think inquiry is.
Good job, Renee. Back to work.

October 06, 2010

Wee Bit Wednesday

So... it's raining, I'm cold, and I'm bored with what I'm working on. Perfect time to be distracted by my friend Suz's blog, who participates in Wee Bit Wednesdays! Today I've decided to participate too - just unofficially. :)


{one} grilled or fried?

Fried - on my own stove. (or not :)

{two} if you could change one thing about where you live, without worrying about money, what would you change?
Heat & AC. Getting the heat fixed is more urgent, though. :)

{three} what is your favorite time of day?
Evening - when Kylie reads The Dark Tower aloud.

{four} what’s your favorite cereal?
Generally: Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds.
Special treat: mix of Life and Golden Grahams.

{five} do you open your mouth when you put mascara on?
Sometimes. This is a weird question. Makes me think of: do you fold or crumple?

{six} if you could make any fictional character come to life, which would it be?
oh gee. Richard Castle. Or the Littles. Possibly Mary Poppins or Spiderman. Who am I kidding? Starbuck.

{seven} what are your favorite pizza toppings?
Mushrooms and pepperoni.

{eight} are you a heavy or a light sleeper?
In between - depends on how frisky the cat is.

{nine} what is your favorite board game?
Right now? Citadels. In general? Race for the Galaxy, which is technically a card game. So, in sum... Lost Cities or Alhambra.

Is this question kidding? You must not know who my husband is.

{ten} what star/celebrity do most people say you look like?
Anne of Green Gables - even though she's not on the fictional character list, above.

October 04, 2010

A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet

I’m on the verge of changing my e-mail address. In the past year, I’ve changed my address twice, I’ve changed from being student to faculty, and I’ve changed my name officially with Social Security. The e-mail address – the most abstract change of them all – is next, and it feels like the final step of changing my identity to Renee Prymus – whomever she is.

In December, I chose to take my husband’s last name as my own. My maiden name is now my middle name, and I’m finding that without “Prymus” behind it, “Aukeman” looks lonely. When I introduce myself to people as “Renee Prymus” and then give “renee . aukeman” as my e-mail, it feels funny. I am, somehow, becoming Renee Prymus, and the process is weird.

Logging into Pitt’s computers is the weirdest part. The computer says, “Prymus, Renee Aukeman.” When I started the MFA program at Pitt, I had just moved to Pittsburgh to live “on my own” and “follow my dream” of writing. In some ways, it was a bigger deal than moving to Bolivia. Seeing “Prymus” on the computer takes away the “single chica independent” thing. It’s a textual shock that reminds me to look up and see how much my life has changed.

In the yogic understanding of the individual self, there are five koshas, or sheaths surrounding the self. Physical, emotional, spiritual, etc. In trying to understand this concept, I’ve been thinking about my labels as simply that – labels for sheaths that surround my inner self. Even though my job has changed, my marital status has changed, my name has changed, my homeownership status has changed – I have not changed. “Renee” is not identified by these outside labels.

Renee just is. She – I, my true self – exists full of value outside any of those labels. Changing my e-mail address will, in some ways be more convenient – eventually. In the meantime, there’s a bunch of e-mails and usernames that I’ll need to change. Changing my e-mail address is just the final piece of “Renee Aukeman” becoming “Renee Prymus.” It’s nothing more than that.

It might mean, however, that you have to change something in your e-mail address book. ☺

September 28, 2010

Writing as Art

Today I have three hours between the class I taught and my five hours at the Writing Center. I'm spending it working on the business book I'm ghostwriting.

As I jot down notes about this fictional medical products company, I find myself writing in ways I've never written before. Thinking about questions my characters ask, I suddenly write that two of them exchange glances with each other. This has nothing to do with the art of writing, and everything to do with the idea that the characters are locking eyes in order to remind the reader of a previous conversation.

It doesn't feel like art.

Last week, when I wrote my real-quick blog post about random hours, I was on the verge of a discovery. On Saturday, the discovery came full force: I do not feel creative.

Creative. For the longest time, whenever I had to describe myself, I gave myself the label of creative. Generally, this has been true. I have an imagination. I will paint my high-school wooden shoes and put them on the back steps of my new house as decoration. I dream of dragons. I used to begin yoga classes with poetry. I used to read poetry. I used to have a notepad of a furry-animal artist who put his paint everywhere but the easel: "I'm not messy," he said. "I'm creative." That was me.

Where did that go? I used to steal moments of time at work or school to jot down a line of a poem that was coming to me or something. Poetry is currently lost to me.

What gives? Creativity, where art thou?

For someone who just wrote a sermon about caring for the Inner Self, this realization is shocking and humbling. I want creativity to be my closest friend again. I miss poetry. I miss fiction. I miss dragons.

I want to see writing as art again.

September 23, 2010

What to do with an hour?

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I teach a morning freshman composition class and then spend five hours in the Writing Center. Today I have an hour in between these, and I had hoped to grade two essays while eating lunch. Alas, I don’t have the brain power.

Instead, I find myself eating PB&J and my apple pie while chatting online with friends.

And I wonder how other people spend random hours in the middle of their days: by quickly writing a bit for their next article? an inspirational blog post? watching re-runs of The Office? Practicing yoga, so that the rest of their day isn’t so difficult on their spine? grading?

There are now 19 minutes left before I need to be exercising my brain with a student. Time to finish the apple pie, post my brief musings, and wonder when my creativity will come back to me like a boomerang. I hope it’s not one of those dud boomerangs that don’t return. :P

September 20, 2010

Image Bearers: Inner/True Self, part two

So why is this all so important? Why is it important to go on what looks like a selfish journey, asking the question “Who am I?”

Earlier, the passage from Parker Palmer that I read ended with a quote from Frederick Buechner: that our true vocation comes from where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need. This is the amazing thing about how God created us: to be with others. The Image of God in us is designed to meet the needs of other people. It’s really truly remarkable. The more we discover about who we are – the more we know who we are and who we are not – the more we are able to touch the lives of others.

To see who you truly are requires so much humility and grace – grace that can only come from God. It’s not an easy journey – but the benefits for others are huge. In the garden image at the beginning, you may have looked inside and found pain. It’s painful to look inside or be by your Self because of past hurts, unfulfilled longings, or past sins. The devastation in your inner landscape is too painful to face or begin fixing.

Two weeks ago, John Creasy talked about how it is to be made in the Image of God is to be a good steward of the earth. What happens to the Earth when it is devastated? Parker Palmer wrote once that he takes a yearly trip to the boundary waters, and once, in the 70s, visited right after a storm of hurricane-like winds. The devastation, he said, was awful to see. As he went back ever year, however, nature went about the process of growing new beauty in the devastation. This is what can happen in your heart as well. We go about discovering who we are first to connect to God, and second to be whom God has called us to be to others.


Here’s the rest of what Parker Palmer says:

“Buechner’s definition starts with the self and moves toward the needs of the world: it begins, wisely, where vocation begins—not in what the world needs (which is everything), but in the nature of the human self, in what brings the self joy, the deep joy of knowing that we are here on earth to be the gifts that God created.

“Contrary to the conventions of our thinly moralistic culture, this emphasis on gladness and selfhood is not selfish. The Quaker teacher Douglas Steere was fond of saying that the ancient human question ‘Who am I?’ leads inevitably to the equally important question ‘Whose am I?’—for there is no selfhood outside of relationship. We must ask the question of selfhood and answer it as honestly as we can, no matter where it takes us. Only as we do so can we discover the community of our lives.

“As I learn more about the seed of true self that was planted when I was born, I also learn more about the ecosystem in which I was planted—the network of communal relations in which I am called to live responsively, accountably, and joyfully with beings of every sort. Only when I know both seed and system, self and community, can I embody the great commandment to love both my neighbor and myself.” p15-17


One of the passages I read at the beginning was about the two great commandments: Love God, Love others – as yourself. This commandment assumes that we already love ourselves. I’m not sure that that’s an assumption that can be made for all of us. In Ephesians 5, Paul makes the same assumption when he commands husbands to love their wives as themselves. “After all,” he says, “no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church.” Christ might feed the church, but not everyone loves his or her body. We live in a culture riddled with eating disorders, exercise addictions, and all kinds of self-image problems. We do not all love our bodies. And that’s an exterior reflection of our relationships with our inner selves.

Love your neighbor as yourself. I came across this passage backwards – learning to love my neighbor and hate my Self. Recently I got married, and now there’s a man who has to live very close to my relationship with my Self. Suddenly there’s a witness to my inner dialogue, and the reflection that I see through his eyes of how I treat my Self is terrible. For our marriage to be healthy, my relationship with my Self has to be healthy. The more healthy my Self is, the more I can encourage my students in my freshman writing class at Pitt to be healthy. The more healthy my Self is, the more I can pour into others. It’s a paradox – we are asked to die to our Selves, but first we must recognize we must have a Self.

This past summer, the Open Door walked through a sermon series of the Biblical “One Anothers” – the passages in the Bible that talk about our relationship with others.

IF we are to practice the one anothers and if we are to bear the image of God we must have a healthy, confident, whole sense of self. With each of the one anothers, we must also look at how we treat our Selves.

Think about the garden you envisioned at the beginning. Imagine your inner Self as a garden, and take a look at the One Anothers, transformed to be about your relationship with Self. Which of these – maybe one, maybe all – do you need to remember this week? How will that affect your garden?

Accept your Self
Greet your Self with a holy kiss
Bear with / forgive your Self
Be devoted to / Love your Self
Encourage your Self
Don’t grumble against / slander your Self
Submit to your Self
Teach and Admonish your Self
Serve your Self

The journey of Selfhood, of listening to the True Self inside, to becoming more who God called you to be, is not a short one. The True Self does not just appear when called. The Self needs to be invited. Space made for it.

In a poem, Father Tom Ryan calls the True self “a timid fawn / that stays among the forest ferns / and only ventures forth at dawn.”

This is where many of the spiritual practices we’ve talked about at the Open Door come into play. Through meditation, contemplation, lectio divina, we learn to create and hold space for the Inner Self and God to commune.

May this sermon tonight be an invitation to your Inner Self, an encouragement on your journey to becoming more of whom God has created you to be.

In the coming world, they will not ask you: ‘Why were you not Moses?’ They will ask you: ‘Why were you not you?’

Image Bearers: Inner/True Self, part one

This is the text version of a sermon I gave last night at the Open Door - minus any impromptu comments.

Gen 1: 26 Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground."
27 So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

Gen 2:7 the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

Matthew 22:34 Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. 35One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question:
36"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" 37Jesus replied: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' 38This is the first and greatest commandment. 39And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' 40All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."

**

As you allow these verses to sink into your heart, I invite you to close your eyes. Breathe. Notice your breath as it comes in and out. Notice how you feel. Are you tired? awake? angry or sad? happy or content? about to fall asleep because your eyes are closed?

Now imagine that inside your chest, instead of a muscle called the heart, you have a garden or a plot of land. Imagine that in your ribs, there’s a little door. Open the door and look at the garden inside your chest. How does it relate to what you feel? Is it desert-like? Or green and luscious and bursting with color?

Do not pass judgment on the state of your garden. Simply notice it. Notice how it is today.

You may open your eyes whenever you wish. If your garden just told you that the most spiritual thing you can do right now is sleep, snore away. The point of my sermon tonight is going to be that there is something inside you that you can trust. An inner teacher called You+God. Or, as Thomas Merton calls it, the Inner Self. Parker Palmer calls it the True Self. Capital T, Capital S. My role tonight is simply to bring you a touch closer together.

And I don’t stand here as an expert on the True Self or as someone who has it all together on this topic. Studying the Inner Self is more an obsession of mine because I have a notoriously bad relationship with my Inner Self, and it won’t let me stay there. It keeps vying for my attention.

If I’m honest, the state of my Inner Self is that of a garden that’s been frozen in time, hidden from the sun, slightly wilted and in desperate need of rejuvenation, attention, and water.

It’s hard to separate who we are from what we do. I once thought that it was my calling in life to work with high schoolers. I tried being their teacher, being their friend, being a combination of teacher and friend – all in various official capacities. With every professional switch, I thought that my new role would give me more time to write. Think about that for a moment – I thought it was my calling to work with high schoolers, but I hoped that every new role with them would give me more time to write. The more I look back on that logic, the more I think I was crazy. The dividedness that I felt in my heart was killing my spirit. I was miserable trying to work with high schoolers and wanting to write.

I felt that dilemma and I am standing here today because of a paradox in the teachings of the Christian faith. It’s a paradox I feel acutely in my own life – and it’s not the high schoolers versus writing dilemma. Remember – a paradox is when there are two truths that are seemingly opposite. The paradox that I’m talking about is this: Jesus tells us that we are to die to ourselves – and to do this, we must have a self.

Often in Christian circles we hear about the sacrifices that we must make to honor God. We hear about putting others first and ourselves last. I grew up in Calvinist circles, and internalized the doctrine of Total Depravity: man is born evil. There is nothing good in us, and Jesus is the only thing that can save us.

Now, I’m not here to say that these things aren’t true. We were born into sin. But as Genesis says, we were created originally in the Image of God. And God called us good. There is something in us that is in the image of God. Something in us that needs to be honored and taken care of. That something was disfigured by sin – but that doesn’t mean that it’s gone.

My thinking here has been largely influenced and freed by the writings of Parker Palmer. I’m going to share a passage from one of his books, Let Your Life Speak, tonight. It’s lengthy, so I’ve broken it up into two parts and put it on Power Point.

“Vocation does not come from a voice ‘out there’ calling me to become something I am not. It comes from a voice ‘in here’ calling me to be the person I was born to be, to fulfill the original selfhood given me at birth by God.

“It is a strange gift, this birthright of self. Accepting it turns out to be even more demanding than attempting to become someone else! I have sometimes responded to the demand by ignoring the gift, or hiding it, or fleeing from it, or squandering it—and I think I am not alone. There is a Hasidic tale that reveals, with amazing brevity, both the universal tendency to want to be someone else and the ultimate importance of becoming one’s self: Rabbi Zusya, when he was an old man, said, ‘In the coming world, they will not ask me: ‘Why were you not Moses?’ They will ask me: ‘Why were you not Zusya?’’” p10-11

“We find our callings by claiming authentic selfhood, by being who we are, by dwelling in the world as Zusya rather than straining to be Moses. The deepest vocational question is not ‘What ought I to do with my life?’ It is the more elemental and demanding ‘Who am I? What is my nature?’

“Everything in the universe has a nature, which means limits as well as potentials, a truth well known by people who work daily with the things of this world. Making pottery, for example, involves more than telling the clay what to become. The clay presses back on the potter’s hands, telling her what it can and cannot do—and if she fails to listen, the outcome will be both frail and ungainly. Engineering involves more than telling materials what they must do. If the engineer does not honor the nature of the steel or the wood or the stone, his failure will go well beyond aesthetics: the bridge or the building will collapse and put human life in peril.

“The human self also has a nature, limits as well as potentials. If you see vocation without understanding the material you are working with, what you build with your life will be ungainly and may well put lives in peril, your own and some of those around you. ‘Faking it’ in the service of high values is no virtue and has nothing to do with vocation. It is an ignorant, sometimes arrogant, attempt to override one’s nature, and it will always fail.

“Our deepest calling is to grow into our own authentic selfhood, whether or not it conforms to some image of who we ought to be. As we do so, we will not only find the joy that every human being seeks—we will also find our path of authentic service in the world. True vocation joins self and service, as Frederick Buechner asserts when he defines vocation as ‘the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.’"


I don’t know what you saw in this passage that touched your Inner Self, or rang a chord deep within you. I know that while I was growing up, Biblical leaders like Moses, Paul, Abraham, Mary, Ruth… they were all held on pedestals – “be like this person.” That’s not a bad thing. But most of all, we need to be like Zusya – we need to be like ourselves.

This fall at the Open Door, we’re talking about what it means to be an Image-Bearer. What it means to be, as the writer of Genesis says, “made in the image of God.” In Greek, Theotokos. Theo – God, tokos – bearer. Mary, Mother of Jesus, is known as Capital T Theotokos. She actually bore God into the world.

We do too. Genesis also says that we have the breath of God keeping us alive – ruach, in Hebrew. Which literally means “life-breath.” All of us are alive because of the breath of God. And in us, something is made in the image of God. God lives inside us.

In my last official role working with high schoolers, I heard a pastor say in the middle of a sermon – I don’t remember anything else about the sermon: “If you are trying to be someone you are not, you are wasting the breath of God.”

“If you are trying to be someone you are not, you are wasting the breath of God.”

Note that I am not saying that we are God. This is a big difference between most Eastern and Western faith traditions. Eastern traditions will say that when we look deeply inside us, we discover that we are God. The Christian tradition says that when we search inside, we find God living inside us. There is a unique way each of us reflects God – and when we are most fully ourselves, we most fully reflect God.

Father Thomas Ryan has a couple of diagrams that help me comprehend this. The first shows the “True Self” – the “Inner Self.” At our core, who we are.




Then there is the ego – or our False Self – the Shell or Self we present to the world:




This false Self is the Self that Paul talks about when he urges us to “die to self.” It’s our pride. It’s our ego. It’s those things that we think we are.

Recognizing who we are and who we are not and which of those things is temporary is part of the spiritual journey, I think.

One of our members, Melody, would like to share a bit about her journey in this discovery.

Then Melody shared about her experience with World Christian Discipleship, Brennan Manning's book Abba's Child, and identifying the Impostor (False Self).

August 12, 2010

In Memory: Anthony Brouwer



Through writing, through literature, and through love, Grandpa Tony was always one of my biggest cheerleaders. Full of life and spunk ("Pull my finger!"), Grandpa would toss a book at me and say, "I bet you could write a book better than this guy (Gilbert Morris)."

For 27 years, Grandpa also held faith for me that I would someday find someone to share my life with. "It only takes one," he told me - twenty-odd years after he told my mother the same words. I didn't believe my mom when she repeated them to me. I did believe Grandpa when he said them. I wonder why.

Through the years, Grandpa always threatened that when I did find someone, he was going to have to come down and check him out. As the years passed and no man came around, I began laughing when he said this: "If a man made it through my defenses, Grandpa, he'd probably fly through yours."

By the time Grandpa met Kylie, we had been engaged for a month. Kylie gained Grandpa's approval from afar when Mom told him that we pray together and we talk about everything. The above picture is from September 2009, right after we discovered that Grandpa had stage IV cancer in his bladder. Kylie and I traveled to Ontario to see him.

I wondered what they'd do with Kylie's very not-Dutch locs, and while Grandma thought they were funny-looking, she thought that Kylie himself was nice enough. Grandpa just instructed Kylie to take good care of me, and that if he didn't, Tony would come and straighten him out. Somehow, I think that even from heaven, Grandpa will make good on his promise.

After a long battle with cancer, Grandpa passed away in the wee hours of this morning. I still can't fathom it, really. We're traveling to Ontario again tomorrow to attend the funeral and visit with the family.



I love you, Grandpa, and already miss your chuckle. Thank you for holding hope for me. I'm working on that bestseller.

Maybe God'll put it in that three-mile high library I'm hoping is up there. :)

Ha! I can hear your chuckle.

April 06, 2010

spring

At noon on the Saturday between the Friday when Christ died and the Sunday when he rose, Kylie and I packed a hammock, a lunch, and novels with dragons in them. On our way to the park, we stopped at the game store for a new board game. After a record-breaking snow of a winter, the sun and the air smelled of spring, tulips, and tank tops. I smelled of sunscreen. I had been here exactly a year ago, the day after I received the first e-mail that said, “I love you.”

At the park, we hiked in a little ways and found the two trees we used last year next to an empty picnic table. I pulled out the hammock and its forty feet of webbing and began tying knots. “See now,” I said, “don’t you feel bad that we’re out here and Coconut is inside? Don’t you want to put the cat on a leash?”

“Nope!” Kylie said. We tested the hammock. It would hold us about a foot off the ground – the perfect height for swinging and digging lunch out of the backpack simultaneously. Instead of reaching for lunch, though, Kylie reached for the new game, opting to devour the directions. Inside the box sat six cardboard sheets of punch-out game pieces, waiting for me and their cathartic punching. Resting in-between Friday and Sunday, and waiting for nothing, we passed the time in the sun.