Relish the process

These past couple months I have been experiencing some “growing pains.” Adulthood seems to be inching closer and closer. There is pressure to get an internship, grow my resume, take on more and more. It can seem like everyone around me knows exactly what their next step is, or even their next twenty steps. In middle school and high school, I was the girl who had her next 5 steps planned ahead of me. I knew what needed to be done to reach each step to then reach the next one. While difficult at times, I found comfort in knowing what I relatively needed to do next to attain my then-current goals. Right now seems like the first time in my life where the steps aren’t clearly defined in front of me. There isn’t some checklist to getting into the right high school or college. It’s “life” now. I must “create my own path” like every adult in my life seems to have said to me at some point or another. 

These past couple of months I have been struggling to maintain a positive mindset around this confusion, lack of knowledge/foresight about my future. While blessed with a plethora of opportunities to discern my path, I stopped taking steps with the fear of stepping in the wrong direction. I stood in the sand and listened to everyone talk about their plans and sunk. But I am tired of sinking and comparing myself to everyone else’s “future paths” in the sand. 1. My feet aren’t the same size nor shape as everyone else’s. 2. One friend wants to walk on the beach, another in the snow. I can choose where I want to attempt my path. 3. Sinking isn’t beneficial. It just moves me farther away from the Big Guy in the Sky. 

A close friend, who has known me since the ripe age of five years old, told me today to “relish the process” of finding the next step. 

I think this is great advice, and I hope to adhere to it from here on out. I may take a step in the wrong direction, but at least I’ll discover I need to change the way I’m moving. I will learn through the process, and after all, isn’t life supposed to be about learning – about God, others, myself, and just life itself?

Looking back on my short almost-twenty-years-of-life, my path has been relatively straight. Maybe it’s time to zig-zag! 

A work in progress

There is a beautiful quote from Augustine’s Confessions that I love and need to read more often.

He writes,

“People travel to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.”

I can’t pin it down with complete confidence, but I think this idea inspired a prayer I’ve been working on in my heart for a while. I recently have felt stuck and in need of progress. So here it goes.

Lord, help me make strong what is weak.

Make my eyes like kaleidoscopes, crystals of your creation collected in my life.

Form my hands to grasp what is good.

Tell my ears to listen and forgive.

Guide my mouth to taste the wisdom of words absorbed and speak with precision and empathy.

Let me breathe what is clean.

Sustain me so I can smell the salt of the sea, the pines of the hills, and the sweetness of blushing petals.

Guide my feet to be light on your creation — to move me through valleys, climb mountains, and sit atop peaks.

Of everything help me use my heart the most of any sense or organ — may it be centered in your purpose.

Lord, prepare my heart to use the gifts given to me to love but let go of what pains it.

Amen.

Hello, friends?!

As I sat in the Chicago Midway Airport this past Tuesday reflecting on the whirlwind of the last three months of my short life, I realized my mom’s friends, who usually exaggerate everything, are right — college really does go by fast. The rapid speed of going to class, meeting people, eating, studying, working out (or trying to), and (occasionally) sleeping can take up every moment of the day (and night). I realized I haven’t taken the time to reflect in a while. So, feeling inspired by some cool people, I am going to start writing again on this “blog,” but honestly, I hate the word blog, so let’s consider this a journal, please! I need the writing practice, and maybe someone will want to hear my random thoughts, and attempts at poetry — or maybe I will let my attempts at poetry remain in that emotional part of my sophomore year of high school (see several posts below) … time will tell.

Here are some tidbits of ~life~ at Notre Dame:

People are so cool! I didn’t realize how extroverted I am until being at Notre Dame. Talking to people is so much more fun than anything else I could spend my time doing.

I re-read part of my senior thesis the other day. It’s weird how a few months can add so much color to the words I wrote. A lot of my thoughts on happiness were drawn from books and essays I read, but I actually feel like I have some real experience with juggling sources of happiness now.

I am still struggling with procrastination, but aren’t we all?

I cherish the random conversations I have with people walking to and from the dining hall, in between classes, at parties, and lying on our dorm room floors. I think it’s often the build-up of these short talks that can blossom into profound friendships, and I am eager to experience this.

To sum it up, I have learned Notre Dame isn’t Notre Dame without the bigs — the dome, the love thees, the century-long quad rivalries. But the bigs really represent the Notre Dame community to the outside. On the inside, I have learned it’s the smalls that contribute to the permeating feeling around campus I still can’t describe, and I may never be able to. It’s the same feeling I had when I first stepped onto Notre Dame’s campus when I was eight years old and decided it was my dream to come here. I know I can’t see it, hear it, feel it, taste it, or smell it, but I know it’s something good. 

More writing to come, but in the meantime, I am beyond thankful to be at Notre Dame, and even more thankful to be supported by my family and friends.

The Past

In our obsessed age of progress, I see value in the past. I yearn to understand how and why books are the product of a historical time period. I want to admire strokes on paintings and carvings on sculptures to gain insight into an individual’s life. I truly believe if someone took the time to write and organize their thoughts, then we owe it to them to read their words. Or if someone took the time to find the perfect mix of colors after layers and layers of sketches, then we owe it to them to admire their masterpiece. We spend so much time grasping for the future that we forget that the past is just as important. 

Spend some time feeling nostalgic. It’s okay to not always be thinking about what’s ahead.

Reflecting on a Journal Entry

While reading through my journal from my time in Cambodia this summer, I found an entry regarding a discussion we had as a group regarding corruption—within our own societies and countries, and those in relation to Cambodia—on a rooftop overlooking Phnom Penh. Within three days of each other the following events took place: one, the Dallas shootings and riots against police brutality, two, a local journalist for the Phnom Penh newspaper was shot, and three, the Nice attacks occurred. My group included myself and a friend from Austin, close to Dallas, and a handful of Europeans, one of which had friends in Nice at the time of the attack, and several other insightful members from around the world. However, at this particular moment, we were all in the same place, experiencing a new thing. This congruence across the events which took place left its mark on me; after many weeks of reflection, I have realized it wasn’t just a coincidence. I may not live in Cambodia, a country ridden with corruption in and out of the government, nor in a country where a handful attacks have occurred in the past year, but I can relate. We all can. We have each been affected by corruption, or injustice, in a certain form—whether through our government, school, or even neighborhood community. These issues are manifested universally, but some of us land in areas where they aren’t as detrimental. This experience gave me some insight into what injustice looks like abroad vs at home in the United States.

Change

This morning I went to my first yoga class in about a month. Before summer, I was going to yoga twice a week or so, and it became a regular part of my schedule. Regularity causes things to lose their specialness. That’s just fact based on experience. I began to rely on yoga for reflection and breathing purposes. It balanced out my running schedule, and everything seemed put into place. However, after not practicing for a month, I was rejuvenated by my class this morning. I left feeling empowered and strong. Was that yoga class better than the ones I had gone to before? Probably not. It just took some time away from yoga to realize its positive, uplifting impact on my mind, body, and soul.

I, like many others, find comfort in schedules–comfort in regularity. However, I am learning that it is the changes (and disruptions) in our lives that cause us to thrive, and inevitably to fall. However, in the end, it is change that helps us achieve growth.

Wag Our Tails

This past month, my family was separated across the country and me, on the other side of the globe. With my parents in Colorado were my two Labrador retrievers Sam and Lila. Sam and Lila are never apart. You’d think they were love birds, but they’re actually mother and son. Lila who is eleven years old and has “gave birth to ten puppies in two hours” in her resumé, has a hard time in the Austin heat in the summer. It was convenient for her to stay with my grandparents in Colorado and then to their home in Amarillo while Sam traveled with my parents home to meet me and Chase, my brother.

The day after I arrived, Sam seemed sad and had no energy, but it made sense: he was tired from traveling and probably sad to be back in the heat rather than the cool Rockies. But when his emotional state didn’t drift and his tail remained stagnate, we became worrisome. He even had an accident inside the house which had not happened since he was a puppy seven years ago. My mom took him to the vet only to have him be diagnosed with extreme pouting. The remedy, he said, was to give Sam a lot of love and attention. So Sam became a passenger in my car and out went the rule of “no dogs upstairs.” Within a couple of nights of sleeping upstairs with the rest of the family, and some extra belly-rubs, his tail was wagging again. Though Sam might be upset by leaving the cool mountain air, he probably misses Lila the most. She’s his number one companion, for life.

Sam’s trip to the doctor and mellowness made me think about our own human nature to feel loved. I sometimes claim to be an introvert, but deep down I know I need my family and friends to help raise my spirits when they are down. I think we can all be a bit like Sam every once in a while. We all become stubborn. God made us to love and be loved. So we should, as much as we can. How can we possibly do that if we won’t wag our tails? But like Sam, I often need to be reminded of this.

What We Can All Learn From Buddhism

I recently returned from Cambodia where I spent two weeks traveling through the country learning, reflecting and enjoying my surroundings. My group consisted of eleven high school students and four leaders. Never have I felt bonded to so many people in such a short amount of time. Our collection of memories and experiences ranges from eating tarantulas to breakdancing at an NGO to visiting the Khmer Rouge Killing Fields. Those two weeks were quite impactful—on my mind and soul. A reoccurring, yet always different, activity in the itinerary was visiting Buddhist temples. Ninety-five percent of Cambodia identifies as Buddhist, and the religion prevails throughout the country. I am personally a practicing Catholic, yet I am receptive to other religions. I believe each person we meet is someone we can learn from, teach, and love. When I entered Cambodia, my perception of Buddhism consisted of short facts such as the following: Buddhists believe in rebirth. They meditate. Many men become Monks, et cetera. I had a simple understanding of it that wasn’t wrong, but it was one-dimensional, and I have yet to learn about a religion that is actually one-dimensional. Having returned from Cambodia, though I still don’t know nor understand a large portion of Buddhist beliefs, I can say I have engaged in a Buddhist culture and its traditions. I believe there are many aspects from Buddhism-manifested culture we, especially believers in God, can learn and benefit from in our daily lives. I have chosen three practices to elaborate upon:

1. Buddha’s face and figurine is everywhere. Everywhere I looked, out the van window, around the market, in the village, I saw Buddha. I was constantly reminded of Buddha, and the symbol is there to serve that exact purpose. What if everywhere we looked we saw the cross or another reminder of our Father? Or simply, what if we grew to truly believe each place we saw and person we met was beautifully created for a purpose?

2. Flip-flops are an ideal shoe choice for a reason. We were always taking our shoes off and putting them back on again. Before going to Cambodia, I knew it was common practice to remove one’s shoes before entering a temple. When one walks onto Holy Ground, it makes sense to show respect to the higher power they are praising. I am a supporter of the non-existent movement to remove our shoes before going into church. In Cambodia, I soon learned that it is also socially correct to remove one’s shoes before entering your own or someone else’s home. It is a way to show respect to oneself and one’s neighbor. This practice is one of the many examples of the sense of respect for everyone that permeates Cambodia.

3. Innnn and Outtttt. Each breath elongated. Our bodies are powered by the air around us. This is a beautiful yet incomprehensible concept we often forget. Meditation is at the heart of Buddhism. Each breath is vital to our bodies but also our souls. Prayer is essential to Christianity, but for me, I often find myself racing through a prayer rather than savoring and contemplating each phrase. Just breathing and being present with God is a form of growth. Meditation teaches the body and the soul discipline.

Yoga

A year or so ago I began to attend a yoga class a week and then I sort of dropped it off a cliff. Honestly, I found it a little boring. It was a time where I could sleep for a few seconds in awkward positions. Maybe it was the studio, or maybe it was my lack of love for finding a stagnant state of mind, but anyways, I stopped going for about a year.

I love people watching. No, not stalking random people on the street, but going to a public space, sitting or standing still, but watching the orb of energy ebb and flow as people move in and out, side to side.

I heard yoga studios were AWESOME places for people watching, so I decided I would exercise my interest in interesting people and try yoga again. I loved it. I tried a different studio than before, but more importantly, I recognized the liberating state of peace yoga exposes inside of me. Faster flows don’t let me think about anything but controlling my breath and coordinating my movement (and trying not to fall over, or ducking my head before the guy in front of me kicks me when doing a headstand—yes, that almost happened last week). Needless to say, I’m a little obsessed. Yoga is beneficial for all parts of my life—it has helped me with prayer, though it’s obviously not Christian-based, stress relief, my level of curiosity, and it has helped me get physically stronger; yoga can be a workout if you make it one.

I have officially joined the yogi movement; and I highly recommend it.