Month: September 2016

Living Alive

Posted on by Niki

Large group of young people enjoying a beach party

Inspired by the song Live Alive by Rend Collective.

My technophobic tendencies have been one of my main fears (among other fears) for not wanting to unleash my blog on the world earlier.  I wanted this site to look pretty snazzy before anyone would see it. With all the bells and whistles. I see other people’s websites and think oh would you look at that. But if I waited until I could get it perfect, I never would have started and you would not be reading this right now. We all have to start somewhere, you have to learn how to walk before you can run, don’t despise the day of small beginnings etc.

And there’s also something to be said about simplicity… but I digress.

I wanna live alive, I wanna live alive

I hear about metaphors like family feasting. Creating space for everyone to come and share who they are at the feast of community and family. Blessing each other through the giving and receiving of one anther. A feast we all get to share in. A beautiful metaphor I agree…so how come so many of us hold back? Isn’t this what we have always wanted? To belong somewhere, to be seen, and to be valued.

This is probably the part where I bring out the big guns, the big V word. Good ole vulnerability. All too often we are afraid that people will see the real us and not like what they see.

Don’t wanna live a lie, don’t wanna live a lie.

I have been thinking about how, over the years, I haven’t given of myself as wholly to people and community as I could have. For whatever reasons, I have chosen to hold back most of myself and to only share part of who I am. It seems like a safer way to live but not a very fulfilling way to live. What is that about?

This brings me to the big P word. Pain. Yes that one.

 Its scary to show up precisely because it might hurt. I don’t want to risk myself because I don’t want to feel pain. It is easier to close off than risk the pain of heartbreak again. Now I’m not referring purely to romantic love, as heartbreak comes through any kind of loss i.e the loss of friendships, the death of someone close, death of a dream, changing locations, schools or jobs. It hurts. The temptation is to shut our hearts from feeling too deeply again. This way, we hope that we won’t have to experience that pain again. We give portions of ourselves. So we end up living half alive.

 When I talk about (my) process, this is one of the big ones.

Letting people see the real me. Letting myself build connections with people.

Saying goodbye to a community of people that you have grown to love is painful. Even if the reason you are parting is a positive one. Then having to rebuild with a brand new group of people, knowing that you may part ways in the future… can be hard, frightening work. Since no one can know the future for certain. And we cannot control other people. It is that uncertainty which makes connection risky.

There’s a courage that is forged in pain.

The reality is that the more emotionally healed and whole a person becomes, the more they increase their ability to bring themselves fully and give and receive love, and the more they love, the more potential for pain.

Am I really willing to take that risk?

I have though long and hard about it. I have decided that yes. The risk is worth it. I am worth it. Others are worth it. Community is worth it.

I will risk my heart a thousand times to feel again.

I would rather bring myself more fully and risk potential future heartbreak, then only give part of myself. That choice doesn’t lessen the fear or increase the certainty of the outcome. But it does instill a sense of hope that there is more. There is more for me. There is more for all of us.

I want to be part of a lavish feast. Not a subsidiary meal of bread and water.

To not take that risk does make life safer. But its half a life.

Is that what I want? Is that what you want?

Rather, here’s to a full life.

The gift of silence

Posted on by Niki

Steine im Wasser 3

What a typically introvert thing to write about: the gift of silence. Now you would probably think that as an introvert, I would be naturally comfortable with silence. No. Introverts can find silence uncomfortable too. Silence can be awkward. We want something to be happening and if nothing is happening, then by golly make something happen.

A couple of years ago a pastor taught me about the gift of silence within a community setting. It is hard enough practicing quiet on your own, but with a group of people, well that just ups the awkward. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, or simply obedience on his part. He would wait for the Spirit’s utterance. There were many times when he would wait. So we would wait as he waited. Everyone waiting. At first it was confusing and somewhat unsettling, almost countercultural.

We were learning to make peace with the quiet.

Now I’ve heard that Isaac Newton “discovered” the law of gravity when an apple hit him on the head as he sat under an apple tree. He was sitting in solitude underneath a tree when he had his great epiphany.

We have this peculiar tendency to want to fill every inch of space with noise.

Probably because we have discovered that quiet can be dangerous. I saw a clip of Louis CK explaining this particular idea of aloneness. We don’t want to be alone with our thoughts and sense our feelings. The unpleasantness sets in and we don’t like it. Not one bit. So we attempt to silence the voices with something, anything… to just make it go away.

The stillness scares us.

We fear the monster lurking beneath the surface. And if there really is a creature of the deep, then we create waves and splashes to avoid making eye contact with the beast we fear could be swimming just below. The monster scares me too. I don’t want to look it in the face. So I keep on splashing with the rest. If we can’t see it, maybe we can convince ourselves that it’s not there. So keep on splashing. Keep disrupting the silence. Keep music playing, the television going, texting, activities. Keep busy, busy, busy…

 Silence can be a gift when you learn to surrender to it.

In our attempt to avoid what we fear could be lurking underneath, the monsters, the scary emotions and the darkness, we miss the light. You cannot experience dawn without night. They say that it is usually darkest before the dawn. Those  feelings and thoughts that arise when you give space for them can seem quite terrible. There is a temptation to turn up the volume. But it is just on the other side, as the sun peeps over the horizon, you witness the light and participate in genuine happiness. You see the beauty you couldn’t see before. It is as if your eyes see for the very first time what was always there. And all because you allowed space for the silence.

Process

Posted on by Niki

Traveler woman sits on retro suitcase and looks away on road

Process. This topic causes such a strong visceral reaction in me that I decided one word would be enough for the title. I admit I have a love hate relationship with the whole concept. I love it in theory. I hate it in practice. I am like a small child on a car journey constantly  questioning if are we there yet. Are we there yet?

I still remember being told a few years ago that my process is beautiful. As a perfectionist I agonized over that statement. How could there be beauty in process or in imperfection? You know what I have discovered? You cannot fully embrace process and perfectionism at the same time. Perfectionism is different from excellence. Perfectionism ties our self worth to having it all together/being perfect. It tells you that you have to be perfect to be worthy of love. Perfectionism says that as long as you are in process you are not worthy of love, only the shame of being unlovable. A hugely important key to embracing process is to know that you are worthy of love and belonging. You don’t have to earn it through being perfect or having arrived.

There is a Japanese aesthetic concept that embraces imperfection as a part of beauty called wabi-sabi. According to this idea, the perfect is unreal and, therefore, lacks a certain depth. A piece of pottery that is cracked is filled with gold to draw attention to the crack instead of hiding it. A piece of pottery that’s not symmetrical or has a chip is seen as beautiful, not despite its flaw, but because of it.

Peter Scazzero shares the following story in his book the Emotionally Healthy Church:

There once lived a water carrier in India. He used two large pots for his task. He suspended a pole across his neck and attached a pot at each end of the pole. One of the pots had a big crack in it while the other pot was perfect. The perfect pot always delivered a full portion of water from the stream to the master’s house, while the cracked pot arrived only half full each day. For two years this water carrier made the same journey. The perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. The cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfection and miserable that it was only able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

Finally, one day by the stream, the cracked pot spoke to his owner about his bitter failure, “I am ashamed of myself , and I want to apologize that I have only been able to deliver half my water to your house. There is a crack in my side which causes water to leak out. Because of my flaws, you don’t get full value from your efforts.”

Then the water carrier replied, smiling, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”

On that trip from the stream, the cracked pot looked around.

“Did you notice there are flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we passed these spots, you watered them. Now for two years, I have been able to pick those beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, I would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

There is beauty in being imperfect. Truly there is.

The main question that we want to know is; are we worthy of love and belonging?

A culture of scarcity tells us that there is never enough to go around. That we must compete for whatever limited love and worth that there is. Comparison says that my worth is dependent upon being better or worse than someone else. We don’t always know what is going on behind the scenes or in another person’s internal world. Comparison is a thief. It robs us of the joy of community as it targets vulnerability. Vulnerability can be defined as our openness to being affected by one another, to being touched by anther human being. Vulnerability invites people in. Comparison keeps people at a distance.

I have learnt that the most important key to embracing process, is the ability to process pain without attaching shame to it. I’ve recently realised that I have made process a lot worse than it needed to be because of the shame that I associated with being in process. It is important for us is to stop looking at process as a way of getting fixed and achieving all togetherness. I think God made us all imperfect on purpose. It causes us to need each other.

Here’s something I found from my writings three years ago reflecting my up and down and round and round approach to process:

I have believed that I need to have some measure of “perfection” in order to be used by God and to be loved by others. And process means that I am not perfect.  To me process meant putting your life on hold, getting fixed, put together, before actually being able to live my life fully. I understand this to be such a lie. I now believe that process doesn’t “put my life on hold”, that in fact it is healthy and it is good.

My attitude towards process is a process.

When we learn to let go of perfectionism, comparison and shame and practice the healthy processing of painful emotions we are more able to thrive in life. And instead of asking are we there yet, we can let go and maybe even enjoy the ride.