Sabbath is a Lemon Bar

Taylor made yummy lemon bars... just because.

Nurturing the Prophetic Imagination

“If we are lucky, we can give in and rest without feeling guilty. We can stop doing and concentrate on being.”
-Kathleen Norris

On Wednesday I gave in, rested at a conference. I did not feel guilty. This was the first time in a long time, perhaps all year, that I concentrated on being. This was the first time that I felt connected to a body of living like minded artists. Sabbath.

Acedia

“Life is easier than you'd think—all that is necessary is to accept the impossible, do without the indispensable, and bear the intolerable.”









I read Acedia & me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life, the first time about a year ago. I’ve read it twice. Bouts of "helplessness, self-pity and terror" began to torment the author in high school in Honolulu, infiltrated her college years and continued into her marriage. You mean I’m not alone…?

Remember:

St. Gregory of Nyssa believes that The Lord’s Prayer is "a way to remember that the life in which we ought to be interested is daily life. … Our Lord tells us to pray for today, and so he prevents us from tormenting ourselves about tomorrow."

What also helps according to Kathleen Norris, "is a great dose of humility. Who the hell do I think I am to be so bored?"


In terms of my craft, Kathleen Norris reminds me,

"The only way to do this book," she realized, "was to bring all sides of me to it." Oh my… Of course… Still, this is easier said than done. It is downright painful. Still, when I engage with art, when beauty speaks, it speaks because the artist had the courage to pint out some truth. Isn’t this the cardinal rule of the work of creativity?

and

“Before you begin a thing, remind yourself that difficulties and delays quite impossible to foresee are ahead. If you could see them clearly, naturally you could do a great deal to get rid of them but you can't. You can only see one thing clearly and that is your goal. Form a mental vision of that and cling to it through thick and thin.”

Week 11

03.13.10 to 03.14.10

Evening

(…met with the folks to talk about the upcoming trip to England… once home, tried to muster the focus to work on the MFA packet due Monday)

and

Morning

(wrote and wrote and wrote)

and

Evening

is all a blur.

(…by nightfall, I crashed)

Week 10

03.06.10 to 03.07.10

Evening

Despite nagging piles, Hannah, Søren, and I managed sneak into the kitchen to conjure rotini with peas, asparagus, fresh basil and parmesan reggiano. Hannah made (the oh so wise) executive decision to pick up a roasted chicken from Bristol Farms, to bypass my plan to roast one from scratch.

Morning

Last week I focused: “Can’t do it all.”

It is so challenging to keep that in mind when responsibility is so LOUD (or at perceived as loud). Admittedly, I secretly anticipated Week 10 would bring some revelatory breakthrough—to what exactly, I’m not sure.

Looking back, I can’t name all we did, but I know it consumed the day.

Evening

By nightfall, I was ready to slow to a halt. We ate leftover past and chicken and watched the first in a series of lectures on England. I smiled at the cover of Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day before my eyes slipped shut, imagined the scent of loaves baking in my oven. Maybe next weekend.

Small Town, Big History

This morning Søren and I drove to Glendora to visit my friend. We got in the car at 7:30am. On the onramp to the 405, I took a breath—first one, it seems, in a long time. This begged the question, “What was that all about?”

For three days I battled with anxious thoughts about taking time off for the visit. Even though an hour or so was being carved out to meet with a mutual client, I wanted to visit my friend. Still that taskmaster was contentedly annoying my mind, conflicting my heart: “There’s the packet due on the 15th and I have to deliver materials to SLO for the conference and what about the stack of Romeo and Juliet essays to grade and the emails to return and what about the LAUNDRY?”

Funny thing, Friday morning, the instant I merged onto the 405, the nagging thoughts vanished. I enjoyed listening to music while my youngest son drew pictures during our hour-long drive to Glendora.


When we arrived half an hour early, spontaneity tickled my mind, “Let’s explore this cute little town.”

I turned left and Søren made an observation, “Castle top trees.”

I looked out the window. Sure enough the street was lined with castle top trees. Søren’s imagination made me smile, “Shall we find a café for hot cocoa?”

“Sure.”

So, at 8:30am two city mice walked hand in hand down a wonderfully sleepy main street an arms length from frenetic Los Angeles.

Being the youngest of four, you would think my smallest son would get special attention, but this is not the reality for my quiet, contemplative Søren. My attention, I’m beginning to recognize through this Sabbath experiment, is consumed by an illusive and voracious taskmaster gulping my time hand over fist! And this second trip to my friend Christian’s reinforced this discouraging truth.

This trip, like our last was reminiscent of kinder, gentler times in SLO when my children were toddlers, babies. Sitting with Christian, conversing about marriage, motherhood, and faith took me to a once upon a time place. I know I am in a stage of life, my youngest child, after all is 10 (double digits) and my eldest a sophomore in college. I know that I am a career minded girl in the midst of two entrepreneurial endeavors. And then there is that very small thing of creativity, and the MFA I’m chasing.

Even still, I have a huge need for what I experienced visiting with my friend in that small town—Sabbath. I need to make soup for lunch during the middle of the week, need to sip tea. I even need to do dishes. I simply need to walk away from the encumbrance of pesky stacks—essays to edit, curriculum and lesson plans to prepare, conferencing with clients (though I must admit there was a bit of this during my visit), and yes, LAUNDRY.

The icing on the cake was that my son got to hang out with his friends who are younger instead of being the youngest in the crowd. Ironically, I think this allowed him to bask in his true development ability, emotionally speaking that is. I saw hints of peace on his face and in his countenance this trip and the last. My son got to slow down. We all needed to step down from our tiptoes now and then.

I teach my students they can learn from history. Today I made history. I spent a few glorious hours in that small town enjoying friendship. Looking back, being released from routine was Sabbath and in my world, this is big history.

Week 9

02.27.10 to 02.28.10

Evening

Tried to take my friend to Sprinkles again. The good news is that they were open for business. The bad news was the line stretched 40-minutes from the door. We walked down the block to Crumb. Dessert before dinner, that was the idea.

As we drove across town to our dinner destination I remembered my Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day arrived from Amazon this afternoon. I am desperate to be a baker. Five minutes a day seems a realistic goal.

Il Fornaio roughly translated means “the baker”... I wonder how many minutes per day they spend baking bread?

It felt tremendously luxurious eating rustic bread dipped in balsamic and olive oil, felt even better to enjoy the company of Sara and Evelyn and Taylor and Hannah away from nagging piles.


Morning

“Can’t do it all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Began the day with potatoes—a piano competition and a haircut on the horizon.

I forced myself to NOT take the dish of starchy goodness and multitask by the computer, forced myself to leave the TV off and sit at the table with my husband in the quiet moments before the contents of the house began to stir. Force myself? That should give me something to think on today.


Evening

We had gone flying in all directions, conquered the piano competition, the haircut, a few errands, and made a rough plan for Monday. When Willie slid a dinner plate across my desk, I mustered the strength to walk away from my work and join my family at the table, “Can’t do it all, but I can do what matters.”

what it is

This week was spent mostly in PJ's. The "walking" whatever bug that has been taunting me for weeks, knocked me down at last with a fever and a cough. Thanks (I think) to my cell phone, email, and a laptop my work responsibilities were met. By Thursday I was discouraged and more tired than ever after two days "off" and weekend events looming.

At an incredibly disorganized awards event on Saturday afternoon I was overwhelmed by thoughts circulating from the better-use-of-my-time folder. But wandering eyes caught sight of an image whispering, "...what it is."

The image prompted me to start circulating thoughts from a new folder, "...where you are ...when you are ... as you are ...in the moment. Life is what it is. Sabbath is a choice.