journals

I seem to collect journals. Sometimes I pick up a notebook or pretty journal for myself. Occasionally I come by a new journal as part of a conference. But usually they are gifts from people who either know I like to write or think I should like to write (being a minister/songwriter/poet etc.). And I do like to write. But I honestly get more journals than I could ever fill.

And a problem used to be that I would start a journal and write for a while and then stop for one reason or another. And then when I would feel the desire to write again, I would feel "guilty" for neglecting writing for so long (and I worried that future readers - not sure who these readers would be - would realize that I hadn't been writing for weeks or months), so I would start a new journal (Perhaps as a way to confuse the hypothetical readers of the future? Letting them wonder if May 1995 through September 1997 are in another journal that they cannot find? I little neurotic, I know.) So I ended up with all of these journals only half-used (or a third used).

Well, this didn't sit well with my wannabe eco-friendly self. So I decided that I needed to write in the old journals. And to stop the judgement of these "future readers" or to confuse them, I decided that I would choose a journal at random, write in it for a while, for as long as I felt "led" to write in it (using the idea of Spirit or calling to cover my neuroses, no doubt), and then pick up another. And if these readers were trying to piece together my ramblings, they could still assume that May 1995 through September 1997 were in that journal (or journals) they could not find.

So this system worked for a while. Though I found that certain journals evoked certain emotions in me. Some inspired me in creative and courageous ways. And others paralyzed me. In one, I had recorded painful confessions, and everytime I opened it, even ten or fifteen years later, even 50 pages on, the hurt in those confessions came back to me. In others, I just encountered writer's block. Maybe it was the cover design. Perhaps it was the line-spacing. It could be that that particular journal was given to me by the mom of an ex. For whatever reasons, I just couldn't bring myself to write there.

In a way, that's how I feel about this blog. I intentionally set it up with no dates so that my readers (real, in this case, not imaginary) would not necessarily know if days or weeks passed between posts (though the few of you who "subscribe" or "follow" know). But I have never gotten into this blog. Maybe it was the layout. Perhaps it was how insanely busy I was when I started this blog. Whatever the reason, I find it hard to write here.

Now, I am wanting to return to blogging, and I am thinking of starting a new blog. A part of me really wants to continue this blog; I kind of feel sorry for it. But in this space I do not feel inspired, creative, nor courageous. So I may be making a move. If that is the case, I will let you know as soon as a new blog is available.

Zombie Elf

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

seasons change

Only one week into September, I have already pulled out the gloves, scarves, and hats. There was frost on the ground as I walked to the bus this morning, and the flashing light above the old Molson Brewery across the street showed the temperature "1" degree. I still haven't gotten the hang of the the Celsius-Fahrenheit conversion, but I know what's freezing and I know what is hovering just above that freezing point.

Today is my first official day as a Pastoral Care Fellow at one of the Edmonton hospitals. Now that my work permit has come through (and been picked up at the border, which entailed a sudden 14-hour round trip drive to Montana), I can begin visiting patients and getting paid to provide spiritual care.

It's been a long journey to this point. The road trip to Edmonton was only a step along the way. And the adventure continues. And we are settling in and making friends, bracing ourselves for the cold and looking forward to the warm snuggles.

Waiting

It's been a lonely season. It seems as if the whole city is on holiday during the month of August. The Unversity has been abandoned. Craig goes to work and some days does not talk to another soul. I stay home and unpack and do not talk to another soul. We call to various organizations we'd liek to join only to hear the message "We'll be meeting again in September".

I am glad we had our year in Virginia, for it has given me hope that we WILL make friends for I know that we DO build community. It will get better. But man, oh man, the waiting is tough.

Labels

Recently, these words have been attached to me (in some cases literally stamped into my passport): immigrant, settler, dependent, wife, unemployed...

And I am still trying to figure out how these labels relate to ones I have previously taken upon myself: citizen, activist, feminist, independent, pastor, partner...

I'll let you know what, if anything, I come up with.

excuses and such

Life is very full. "Overwhelming" would be one way to describe it. "Brimming with wonder, joy, and love" would be another. I think my reality has been both.

Overwhelming... This is my life. I am under a lot of stress, yes. I am working an average of 50 hours a week as a chaplain resident(I am working 87 this week!), looking for a job for next year, getting ready for an international move, and planning my upcomign covenant ceremony with my Beloved. Most of the invitations have gone out. Hurrah!

Brimming with wonder, joy, and love... I am embarking on a life journey with Craig. It doesn't get much better than that. We are creating a service that is uniquely our own, doing things our own way (including putting Yoda stamps on the invites and encouraging people to RSVP online and use the stamp to write to their elected officials!). In doing so, we are stepping into our life together on our own terms. And I get to do meaningful work in and through it all. It's good.

But between life being "overwhelming" and "brimming", I cannot find much time for blogging. This little piece of internet space has been much neglected these past few months. And will most likely be so for the next several months. Perhaps once I am settled in Canada I can return and tend to this blog. We'll see...

Where Have All the Doubters Gone?

Just when I am thinking about chucking this whole churchy deal for good, you know, finally calling off my on-again-off-again love affair with the institutional religion, it seems as if all the cool agnostics are finding god or at least finding their way into the pews of some worshipping community. What's up with that?