Attentive Silence and Ripe Figs

This moment I'm sitting in is a good one.  I put in a full, good day of work, and I now sit in one of my favorite, shabby little coffee shops near the Ross Island Bridge.  SE Grind is always full of people, mostly students with laptops, late night coffee, sweatpants, and curly hair so luscious it could make you cry.  This is a moment of stirring yerbe matte tea in a white ceramic cup with an old spoon, a moment of cold noses and warm hats, gentle sounds and bright lights, strange art and familiar strangers.

It's a moment set aside to pause, appreciate the warm teacup in my hands, and contemplate the year unfolding in front of me.

Never in my lifetime have I run short of ideas.  Ironically, too many ideas and interests have a way of stilling forward motion.  Sylvia Plath captured it perfectly in The Bell Jar:

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.  From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.  One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South American, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and apack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.  I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.  I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

It's been pretty discouraging, especially because God's only recent input has been a teasing, 'Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.'*  That made me balk for a bit - was God telling me that I need to stay in America for 2 years? 10 years? Forever?  I've wrestled and wondered, trying to avoid worry, to narrow down options and plans.  And all the while, God has been so quiiiiiiiiiiet....

This weekend I crossed paths with family friend I've never met before, a lovely woman, who has apparently been following my writing over the past couple of years.  As we talked, I felt God's attention.  It wasn't a directive, a correction, or a divine pity for my frustration.  It was more like God broke the silences and said, 'Uh-huh, I'm listening.'  The acknowledgement was like a deep breath of cold, fresh air. For the past year, I've felt frustrated and isolated by God's silence.  It's only in this moment that I realize the best listeners don't say anything.  I've had a lot to say.

I intended to take this post in another direction, but I think this is where I'm supposed to leave it - sometimes God is silent because He's intently listening to you.  It isn't the silence of abandonment, it's a gift of gentleness.

"You have given me the shield of your salvation,

and your right hand supported me,

and your gentleness made me great."

Psalm 18:35 (ESV)

The deepest loves I've ever known were nourished with a soft vulnerability, the byproduct of consistent gentleness.  It builds up the muchness of a person, the substance, the essence.  This kind of gentleness isn't inspired by pity, but intimacy.  I've shared the closeness of silence with my dearest of friends, but never before with my God.  A new discovery within my oldest relationship.  Remarkable.

*Apparently God cheats at Monopoly.

Day 17: Researched Whelmed

I've often heard and repeated the joke about being 'whelmed.'  If a person can be overwhelmed, and underwhelmed, then why can't someone just be whelmed?  The joke of course is that 'whelmed isn't a real word.*  And what would it mean anyways?

My search for work has led me to the definition of what it means to be 'whelmed.'  I know there are scads of opportunities for work out in the world, and that much of it can be discovered with a few clicks on my computer.  But how do I know if I'm viewing credible schools?  Maybe I've just discovered a good website.  How do I know if the country is a place I could spend a large chunk of time.  Do I guess?  Ideally I'd visit each place, but I don't have extracurricular funds for wise ventures like that.  I can do a ton of research, which could easily make me feel overwhelmed, but I can easily get frustrated, or underwhelmed, by the information that's missing from the websites of individual schools.  So here we get at the definition of whelmed: the knowledge that the resources you need exist, but you lack the information or experience needed to procure them.

I'm headed into the third week of my prayer month, and I feel like God is pointing me in toward one or two open doors, but I haven't yet diligently pursued other options.  I think God uses open doors as guides, but I don't want to lazily take the path of least resistance.  I don't want the echoes of 'What if...'  to follow me to my next job.  I want to sink my teeth into my next job, and I can't do that if there's a language barrier.  If I choose another international position, I'll have to invest time and effort into learning the language.**  Tonight I started researching individual schools in a few Eastern European countries, but I think I was getting the cart before the horse.

Here's the new plan:

1. Listen to a news reel in the country's indigenous language.
2. Listen to traditional music.
3. Learn about the country's history, read its news, and find out what's trending socially.

THE NEWS REEL.  When I first arrived in China, I had a difficult time adjusting to the sound of spoken Chinese.  I find it rather gutteral and accusatory.  My apologies if it's your native language, or if you find it entrancing.  My opinion is merely an opinion, and that's how it lands in my ears.  As a musician, it's difficult to be constantly surrounded by sounds that seem harsh and unyielding.  My current plan is really helpful because I associate the sound of the language with the country as I read about it.

TRADITIONAL MUSIC.  I was a musician before I became a teacher.  There are some parts of Chinese music that really appeal to me, and there are other forms of music that are difficult for me to engage with/reconcile to/understand/enjoy/tolerate - take your pic of descriptor as you listen to Exhibit A. (This piece is actually pretty easy to get into.)

HISTORY, NEWS, AND TRENDS.  I think these topics are pretty self explanatory.  Sometimes I find myself woefully ignorant about basic information, like current politicians, names of provinces and territories, and common expectations of foreigners.  I need to know the basics before I enter into another country long-term.

So far, this process has taught me that Albanian is too angular for me to listen to for more than a few minutes, and Georgian music sounds like Argentinian Folk sung in Arabic.  Not bad for a couple hours of internet time.***

• Please pray that I only give community input its due amount of import.  My goal this month is to listen for God's guidance, not the crowd's.  I need discernment.
• Please pray for health.  I got a hit of food poisoning this morning. That's never fun.
• Please pray that people will step up as prayer partners over the Thanksgiving holiday.
• Please pray for creative direction and possibilities, for the merging of ideas, and release of desire for things that aren't a part of the best design.  I enough ideas and inspirations for a hundred lifetimes, and sometimes that can be counterproductive to decision making.
• Please pray that the students I am supposed to teach will take a prominent position in my heart as I look ahead.

And health and health and health....food poisoning is just the worst thing created.  Ever.****

*Just kidding, it is.  I noticed my spellcheck wasn't angry, so I looked it up.  Apparently it's a verb that means 'to wheel around' or 'to wheedle out.'  And now you know the rest of the story.

**Thanks to a couple of blunt and discouraging teachers, I have an aversion toward learning languages.  One told me that I couldn't understand my classmate's appreciation for their native cultures, and another actually described my French as 'atrocious' and 'sterile.'  Now that I can evaluate these people through my teacher-lens, I can see that they themselves weren't very good teachers.  Even so, I have very little confidence when it comes to acquiring new languages.  I'm not accustomed to lacking confidence.  I don't handle it very well.

***I have further decided that the internet is a magical place that reveals the secrets of the universe.  Seriously, it's amazing that it can all fit into a cellphone.

****Besides heartbreak.

The Future

I miss school. Being IN school. Maybe I just miss the structure of having someone tell me EXACTLY how to go about doing my work, or maybe I miss having colleagues hold me accountable to an extremely high standard. Or the smell of new books or the energy of a college hallway. Which sounds ridiculous considering that I work AT a college. Someday I'll go back. Someday when I have money and know which PhD program I want. When I get there, I will have paid off all my loans, acquired the perfect body and a sailboat that I will be able to sail successfully on my own across multiple hemispheres. I'll be finishing my final draft of a book, which I'll write to satisfy the requests of my blog followers. In my mind's eye, I have the perfect haircut and a grey power-suit with a pencil skirt that never wrinkles. Wonderfully cultured men will vie for my attention, but I don't have time for them. The choirs I teach will perfectly incorporate indigenous instruments from whatever culture I live in. My compositions will be highly sought after, and the concerts I conduct will move people to tears. (In a good way.) Every morning will begin with yoga, a cup of tea, and a good book. Powerful people will listen to my opinions respectfully, and I'll build schools for forgotten people in unfathomable places. In fact, the UN will be grooming me to work in a position developing international educational systems, but I may opt to be a professor at my alma mater instead. I'll have some kind of absurd pet, like a skunk or a monkey or a lemur named either Sylvia or Charles. And I will never sweat. I think I'll get there in the next 10 years.

The future is a good place.

In other news, I'll be returning to China next year.