"Don't worry, be happy"

Church. This makes some people's skin curl and some people's breathe. For me, I like to think it's a happy medium of both...or a not so 'happy.'
I grew up in a Luthern church, which is the closest Protestant sect to Catholicism. We had very traditional services with hymns sung out of books, torch bearers, real red wine communion (no Welch's) and strict Sunday attire. No, Lutheran services don't resemble a high school pep rally and aren't housed in carpet warehouses. Vacation Bible School is school, not if-Jesus-were-a-polar-bear-type-arctic-in-Alabama sessions. We don't sing from projector screens or have "contemporary Christian bands"come up and rock out to 'Our God is An Awesome God'. We rise, we kneel, we pray, like it has been done for years. We are formal as formal can get in my opinion. I spent years upon years three hours a week studying the religion, the different creeds and other 'important texts', makings and heart of Martin Luther who daringly left the pope, and deeper meanings of Communion in order to be 'confirmed' and deemed worthy enough to be a member of the church. I liked that sense of belonging, felt 'connected' or 'in the spirit' to such an extreme level of devotion and advocacy...or atleast I thought I was 'there', taught to think I was 'there'.
We left the Luthern church due to 'issues' within the office (money mysteriously disappearing) and because of this creepy Mr. Nelson (who talked like he had something stuck in his throat) stalking my mother and counting her supposed days left of her breast-cancer fight. I was incredibly dissapointed, because this was right after I had been confirmed and I wanted to 'see out' the rest of my spirtual Luthern journey yah de yah de yah. I was so young, so naive.

Last summer I began attending church again....a Southern Baptist church to be exact where 'Brother Clark' yells at you during the sermons, questions your faith daily ("Are you walking with God today? If you're foolin' me, that's your problem because HE knows...HE KNOWS!" )...it's kind of scary actually, uncomfortable, and downright hilarious, especially during baptisms -- I swear, if someone told me to believe in something and held me underwater, hell, I'd believe it! But yeah, I know, shame on me, slap me on the hand, there is more to it then that. I find myself critiquing the service, the Baptist belief system...Christianity in general and what scares me the most is that such 'sinful' thoughts don't bother me anymore. Hell might be a better place after all, that is if it truly exisits. Who wants to be pious all the time in heaven? I will admit though that I still yearn for as silly as the services can come off, that 'feeling' everyone talks about. What does it mean to be "saved" and how can one truly know? Was I once
saved"? I have this one pressing image that keeps rising in my memory every time I sit in those pews. It's of this deacon-to-be and the pastor, both kneeling in front of the congregation together, holding each other's bowed heads in their hands and they're muttering a prayer for forgiveness and entrance into the deacon community, to serve, be the servant of God. Something just pulsed through me, the intamacy of the prayer, the grasping of one another, the touch. They 'felt' something, the 'Spirit' was present. People in the congregation were moved to tears or just blankly staring, absorbed. I just kept thinking, 'Are you kidding me?' I didn't feel anything. I really wanted to.
Which brings me to Wednesday Night Youth Group sessions called "Powerpoint" held at the "Powerhouse" (the name gets me every time -- it has a flashing sign) church building. I once-in-a-blue-moon attend the church, though decided to give it try again recently as I had some free time, needed to 'get out' and felt it would perhaps heighten my intellect in some way. So I followed my friends into a "Powerhouse" room and intently listened to the pastor's twenty-something-year-old-son give his lesson. He chose the topic of "worrying". He gave examples of worries that we might have: getting into college, ACT scores, friendships/relationships going awry, fights with parents, sports teams, etc. and told us that in order to be closer to God and to fully accept Him we must let them all go and give them to the Lord. "He will take care of all your burdens." The son went on in scripture (Jerimiah maybe?) that Jesus and his disciples were walking through this field and they were wondering how they could get to heaven, how they could find INNER PEACE, and Jesus said that they should give their burdens to God, have the ability to trust Him enough and he would provide and 'save them'. The birds always had enough food, the grass enough rain, etc...it was a nice story but realistically you can't NOT worry. That is what drives you, makes you productive. A friend of mine raised his hand and asked what about school? You can't just give up on that. "Oh but you can and God will provide." This pastor's son went on to lead us all in prayer, begging the Lord to give us strength to give up on pride and control of our lives, leaving minutes inbetween each statement for silent prayer. I counted seconds, wondering if the giving up of all or little burdens was worth it, would reap peaceful rewards in a dying faith in my eyes. Was it or is it worth restoring?

I'm going on a church retreat with some close friends this weekend (this is a different church -- Presbyterian actually) and am hoping that through different Christian eyes I may see something different -- maybe it's just the denomination or the church or religion..or me. Maybe being out in the freezing mountains will bring some sort of peace in the natural setting of the adirondacks. I wonder if I'm worthy enough to go on this trip, if I should involve myself in a fellowship of die-hard believers as this is the repuatation of the youth group. I'm not expecting to come down from the mountains after the weekend a changed person, one who has seen and felt the Lord before her very eyes...it would be interesting though to feel a step closer to something though, something safer than seemingly Nothing.
I hear Presbyterian's pray. A lot. I like praying; I'm all for that. While closing my eyes and bowing my head I can listen to the thistling of naked, skeletal trees in Appalacian gusty, spiraling wind...maybe in such silence, such isolation, I'll hear something, know something, feel something I'm after warm my insides, radiate heat.

I watch clouds churn for hours

This weekend I did some searching, went about my long weekend doing regular activities and some not so regular, attempting to note when I felt 'full' or when I felt calm and smooth minded, observed when I felt bliss for seconds or extended amounts of time.
I traveled into the great outdoors this weekend, became immersed. I surrounded myself with people I knew. I tried to establish a sense of 'home' in my surroundings, where muggy air met red clay, where mountaintops met charcoaled gray skies, where Alabama's county roads led somewhere.
I can account to three instances where I felt something, for even just a few seconds.

Instance One: The air feels like spring, balmy, calming before night time rain, and the sun rays reach to the corner of my left eye, and it's beam like an extended brush stroke, my tender skin felt exposed, pulled. I'm driving down bending, spiraling roads, fingertips on steering wheel. light touch on pedals, humming along to Sondre Lerche's "Virtue and Wine" song, friend by my side, twirling her wrist out the open window. I feel careless, youthful, memorable. With each twist and turn, dip, and crest of lake and golf course, of blown stop signs, and of gusty air, the song lyrics pick up with "virtue and wine cannot help you swim / Pain and sorrow must come/ if you go / It´s the chemistry and the things we should´nt do/ I am nothing without you" and I think as we ascend the highway ramp, of the people I love and the people I've left....massive trucks rattle my CR-V as we pick up speed and road noise on the flat interstate. I blast the music, allow my damp showered hair to air dry, and feel like I'm going somewhere, feel like I'm getting somewhere and that calms me.

Instance Two: I'm at 'my haven' which happens to be my mentor of sorts, the older sister I never had's barn and again, the air is balmy. The barn is quiet on the Sunday afternoon, shady and echoing of our voices. I groom my horse's coat while talking with Heather about this and that, every day things, ideas on religion. We both speculate and revist our ideas of heaven and hell and fundamentalist Christians and people who think they have it all figured out at my age and how people think they have it all figured out at hers (early thirties). We talk of a close friend's father who was diagnosed with lung cancer, unexpectantly.
"It's funny," she says, leaning on her muck fork while I bridle my impatient mare, "it's like when you tell God your plans, he laughs at you."
And I ponder the unexpected, the unreal, the spirtual world. What we must face in inconvienent times, and how we go about trudging through the muddle of it all.
We ride after this, jump actually, over poles held up by standards. I'm teaching her newest pony, Starlight, how to jump, and the pony gives me an eventful, wild ride. The last jump combination though, went so smoothly, so effortlessly, so light weight, so soft compared to the charging and rushing performances we had dealt with before. It was like once I had calmed down, and anticipated less, she responded, and mellowed out. I share this with Heather. She says it's all in the breathing. I cool the poor pony out by walking through the fields, and I try breathing deeply. I don't feel silly.

Instance Three: I'm at Palisades Park with some close friends. Keep in mind that I am dreadfully afraid of heights. Rock-climbing on a sixty foot cliff nicknamed Nevernever Land on a chilly, drizzly morning probably wasn't the best choice for my nerves and effort to find calm. I attempted to seek it though, looked out over Oneonta, the rising foot hills pinned with skeletal trees, and carved with rocky faces. The quaint cobblestone and wooden cabins and gazebos kept me distacted with a pioneer-type asthetic fantasy..the vistation to seemingly natural living, surrounded by nothing but cliffs and meadows below, leaning farmhouses and weathered barns warmed my insides. I was relaxing. We climbed down the mountain and set up top-ropes, put on harnesses and scaled the face (I with much difficulty and aprehension...quite frankly I am a total and complete beast when it comes to heights) until the sky released buckets full of rain, and I rapelled down the sixty footer, water soaking my t-shirt, my hair, running down my legs and hands and filling my shoes. Dangling a few feet from the ground I reach for the damp dirt with pointed toes. I feel weightless. My friend finally 'drops' me and I sink down into the mud. He unhooks me, and we scurry under a rock overlip, shivering, grasping onto each other for warmth and listening to the rain tap on fallen leaves, watch puddles form on boulders, watch clouds churn for hours. It's a relief to not only be on the ground, but to sit, and meditate with a silent partner.

I feel like I realized a bit more this weekend, drank up my experiences, sought to find inner peace...I'm just wondering if it's something to purposefully seek. I fear I'm trying to hard...time will tell.

Interesting Lady...Interesting Site...Will respond to soon...

http://www.peacepilgrim.org/

Seeking some type of nirvana

I'm starting a personal quest.
I'm on a quest to find some sort of inner peace, some sort of compliance with the pressures, the strains that seep into my mind, affect my spirit. I'm on a search, a pilgrimage, an expedition of sorts to find some type of nirvana, some type of contentness, figure out if it really exists, even in short instances, short dosages, how to savor, relish, partake in the moment...
What is peace, period? What is peace to others? How has it changed over the years? How do Eastern religions and practices capture this essence? Is 'nirvana' within me? Can I find it through love of others? Spiritually, perhaps? Is it something that everyone can find, or is it just something people think they feel? Is it all in the mind, body, soul, as they say? Is peace circular? Linear?
I have lots of questions that need answers. Or attempts to pin-point hidden meanings, messages. Peace is something that we all inadvertently or advertently strive for...but is it truly possible? Which leads me to other worldy possibilities, these big ideas that bounce around in my head. Why do I doubt so much? This all centers around relationships. Internally with oneself and externally. I'm always on the go, always with others. I'm need to be by myself, to dig deep down and spend time with just myself. I'm thinking I need to do this to answer some pressing questions, or to come up with tentative answers. To toss around some big ideas -- to find peace in doing that for myself as well as finding peace in doing for or with others. Perhaps then I'll become more decisive. Become a bit more self-aware. It's the idea of isolation. Hermit-living like...
Ideas to find inner-peace or consent with not finding it (new year's resolutions of sorts):

1.) Go back to my 'homeland' and just explore
2.) Take a yoga class
3.) Read up on Buddha, Ghandi...
4.) Spend time alone in natural settings...go on a vison quest (not for days though!)
5.) Spend time in company with another (or others) in natural settings or not so natural
6.) Attend a few church services (different denominations)
7.) Read and study 'peaceful' art forms, such as poems, paintings, music...what the artist was striving to give off
8.) Meditate with close family friend, Stephanie Shamsuddin
9.) Talk to elderly. See if they have 'found' it at their old age. What wisdom they have to offer
10.) Do people in different countries find 'peace' in different ways? Take note while overseas...is peace global? Regional even?

Just some ideas....

I want to know that it's okay have these questions, and it's okay not to know all the answers (or any). Maybe it's okay that I just want to try a bit harder to know.