"If I am the pawn of the gods, it is because they know me so well, not because they make up my mind for me."
- the Queen of Eddis


The Queen of Attolia
by Megan Whalen Turner

born ready

Or: The Passing Thought that Turned into the Summation of (Almost) Everything I Believe

Life has this frustrating way of just ... progressing, regardless of how we feel about it. As a student (well, a post-student, anyway), I've gotten used to gearing up for the next section of my life. I'm a fan of the traditional school year because I can separate my life into pieces: fall semester, spring semester, summer. Repeat. Add some breaks in between to keep it from getting too much, and I'm set. I know what's coming, and I know, for the most part, how to prepare for it.

But then there's everything else that life throws at you, and there's really no way to be prepared. I wasn't ready for my parents to get a divorce, but it happened, and I had to deal with it. My aunt and uncle knew that their baby girl had a terminal illness, but they weren't prepared for her Father to take her home. I have friends who are single and lonely and feel long past ready to start a relationship; I have friends who got married and realized they might not have been ready. There's no way for us to know what's coming—nothing in this world is permanent, and even when we feel like we're ready for something, we never know exactly how it's going to go down. And it's easy to despair about that, because... well, because the unknown is just plain scary.

On a very basic level, you can perceive the challenges we face as opportunities God gives us in order to learn to trust that he knows what he's doing even when we haven't a clue. I thought this way for a long time, because it seemed to make sense: how can I work on strengthening my faith if everything in my life is going perfectly? Maybe God permits—even presents—these challenges, so that I will be constantly relying on him. I know that he loves me, and (as both Paul and the Beatles say) love is all you need [1], so maybe the point of... everything... is to learn to have faith, to be content in all things. [2]

But I'm not satisfied with this perception. Because on that basic level, it means that God is testing me. It means that he's throwing all this weird ~life stuff~ at me, just so I can prove that I trust him enough to get through it without... rejecting him? being unloving to the people around me? giving up? And we all know that somewhere along the line, I'm going to do one of those things (although I don't even know which of these I am trying to prove). No matter how hard I hold on to my faith, even the faintest of doubts is still a failure to find complete confidence in God's grace. And why would God intentionally test my ability to succeed when he knows I will continue to fail?

Except God doesn't test people like this anymore. He may have tested Abraham, back when the "in" thing was being as righteous as possible, but now that we have been given the gift of grace things work a little differently.

Here's the beauty of it: we are ready. What does it matter if we feel like it or not? When do we ever experience one pure, unadulterated emotion? Love + worry. Anger + hurt. Confidence + arrogance. Our human emotions get so jumbled and complicated, and we spend so much time trying to sort through them, that we start to believe they're all we have. I feel angry, so I'm going to tell him how stupid he is and why I'm clearly the better person. I feel worthless, so I must have absolutely no good qualities. We're emotional creatures: we feel a great deal in one given minute, but in half an hour it's an entirely different story. So why should our mood swings be perceived any differently than the way we feel about certain periods of life? The hurt and anger you feel after a breakup is not really so different from the hurt and anger you feel after an argument with your mom. It's maybe a little longer and a little more intense (and with less of the tension if-you-know-what-i-mean), but hurt is hurt and anger is anger. And regardless of the cause, it doesn't last forever, and it doesn't mean you'll never feel happy again. It means that for this moment, you're feeling X and Y feelings, and eventually they'll be replaced by new ones.

The thing is, our feelings can only tell us so much. It's dangerously easy to get completely lost in your emotions and lose sight of what's important; it's equally dangerous to disregard your emotions altogether. The mere fact that a person can do either of these things proves that an emotional response to something is not indicative of the thing itself. An emotional response is pretty much the sole responsibility of the person experiencing it, and not of whatever it was that caused it. And when we focus on making sure we "feel" ready, we're completely missing the point.

When it comes down to it, life is going to happen the way it happens (or doesn't), and there isn't much you can do about it. Sure, you have choices to make, but they can only get you so far. You can decide which car to buy or where to go to school, but you have no control over whether someone crashes into said car, or if you are presented with an excellent job opportunity that you weren't looking for. You can even decide you should get that job you applied for, because it's *perfect* for you, and but just because you think so doesn't mean the potential employer does. We can't possibly know all the factors involved in any given situation; all we have is what we know, and that knowledge is far more limited than we'd like to think.

But God's design is too good to catch him unawares. Only God, who knows every puzzle piece of his entire creation, knows all the factors involved in these situations. He knows the how and the why, and he knows where it will lead us. Our comprehension of the situation is irrelevant, because we're only one piece of a gigantic, intricate masterpiece.

Ecclesiastes 3 (which, for the record, is probably my favorite chapter of the Bible) explains... well... everything. People are most familiar with the "time for everything" bit: a time to be born, and to die, and to cast stones, and to pick up stones, κτλ. [3] "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven." [4] There is comfort in this long list of things-that-happen-sometime-in-your-life, because it tells us that we aren't alone in our suffering, and that life is more than just the "season" [5] we happen to be experiencing. But the beauty of this passage—arguably, the beauty of life itself—is found in the paragraph just after the list. First, the author addresses the sense of futility that comes with knowing you can't stop life from happening: "What gain has the worker from his toil?" [6] What is the point of all of this work if there's nothing we can do to stop the future from happening?

And then he explains it: "[God] has made everything beautiful in its time." [7] God has given all things a purpose, and made all seasons and experiences beautiful at the perfect moments. The times to kill, the times to dance, the times to keep silence, the times for peace... they're all ordered by God, a part of his design and a part of the plans he has for us, "plans for welfare and not for evil, to give [us] a future and a hope." [8] Every season we experience, every moment of joy and sorrow and waiting and acting, are given to us exactly when we need them, and fit perfectly into God's design for our lives and for the lives of those around us. We can't comprehend that design, not fully—we only see parts of it, and even if we understand why our lives happen the way they do, we can't possibly see how it fits into the greater design of the entire body of Christ. God purposefully made us so that we "cannot find out what [he] has done from the beginning to the end" [9] ...but he also ensured that we don't have to. It's not our responsibility to know. God's design accounts for everyone, and he limited our understanding so that we have less to worry about. "I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man." [10]

So are we supposed to feel ready for what's to come? Of course not. There's no way to know what's going to happen, and no way to know how to deal with it, and even if we did, no way that we'd deal with it in the best possible way. But God's design is greater than our feelings of inadequacy as well as our inadequacy itself. Everything happens exactly when it's meant to happen, and everything is made beautiful in its own time. God gives us everything we need, exactly when we need it. [11]

Regardless of how we feel about it, we are always ready. We were born ready, born to face whatever the world throws at us, born to be strong enough to wait for the things to come. "Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?" [12]

Relax. We can't see the whole picture, but we don't need to. All things happen in the perfect moment (εἰς τὸν καιρὸν), and all we can do is act in the present. This time will pass, and a new season will be upon us—so be joyful, and do good as long as you live. This is God's gift to you.

---
[1.1] 2 Corinthians 12:9a: But [the Lord] said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
[1.2] "All You Need Is Love" / the Beatles
[2] Philippians 4:10a-13: ...for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
[3] κτλ = the Greek version of "etc" (short for και τα λοιπά, [kai ta loipa] which means "and the rest")
[4] Ecclesiastes 3:1 ... see also verses 2-8: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew;a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.
[5] the word used here is καιρός (kairos), which does mean "season" or "time," but more appropriately means "time as opportunity," "the suitable/favorable occasion," "the perfect moment," κτλ.
[6] Ecclesiastes 3:9
[7] Ecclesiastes 3:11a
[8] Jeremiah 29:11b
[9] Ecclesiastes 3:11b
[10] Ecclesiastes 3:12-13
[11] Philippians 4:19: And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
[12] Matthew 6:25-27

for its own sake

Lately I've been making a point of trying to read more. There's something wholly satisfying about finishing a book (somehow far more so than watching most TV episodes), and I'm always slightly surprised to close it and realize that the world around me is entirely different from the one I just spent time in. As of late I've been reading the "Squire's Tales," Gerald Morris' retellings of the good old King Arthur legends, which are full of knights and faeries and quests and things like that. And it's completely refreshing to read about Ye Olden Days, when honor and chivalry and life lessons were "in." Back when battles were fought for a reason, and people were expected to be respectful to one another, and only the very obviously arrogant and foolish expressed feelings of entitlement and self-importance.

...my intent, however, is not actually to complain about today's society, although I certainly would have the material to do so if I wanted, because at the moment I'd rather just sit and enjoy the story I finished.

I find it somewhat fascinating that while both The Squire's Tale and The Squire, His Knight, and His Lady have a general forward movement of plot and unraveling story, they are full of episodic battles and adventures that are—in the long run—completely separate from one another. In general my favorite books are those that create entire self-sustaining worlds, where all the pieces are intricately interconnected, whether or not the author chooses to reveal how. But these books are surprisingly episodic, even within each book—they are truly the "tales" of the adventuring knight Gawain and his equally heroic squire Terence. Each battle is fought for its own sake, and the characters rarely realize that these individual adventures are pointing them in the direction of fulfilling their quests.

Gawain's philosophy is something like "might as well do it, otherwise I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened," and that is ... amazing. Obviously this is a perspective that doesn't hold up for the dishonorable (I guess I have to smoke some weed, otherwise I'll never know what it's like ... ) but when it's a person's first instinct to do what's right and to keep pressing on, just to see what's out there ... this is something I can get behind. It's the love of adventure, and the need to seek out something to do—not so he has a story to tell when he gets back, although he will, but because it's his calling. It's in his blood to go out there and do good, and he isn't afraid of whatever is ahead. He isn't worried about the time it will take and he doesn't feel the need to always return home to Camelot, or even to the Other World where his true love resides. He just goes and does and doesn't look back. It's incredible.

Like I said, I could tie all sorts of themes into this post... themes like honor and virtue, existentialism, feminism, good vs evil, etc... but really all I'm doing right now is enjoying the book for what it is: entertaining. Certainly I enjoy it more for its relevance and underlying concepts (and certainly I could write about them at great lengths) but this is also also the kind of book I can spend hours reading without realizing, and that, I think, is just as wonderful.

i have no fear of drowning... it's the breathing that's taking all this work

(work / jars of clay)

I'm a better person when I'm alone.

Somehow (and I'm still not sure how) I've managed to have long-term boyfriends for the better part of the last 7 years, and when I wasn't actually in a relationship I was working toward one, which is a form of relationship in its own right. And frequently when I talk to my single friends about relationships, I am uncomfortably aware of the fact that I haven't spent a whole lot of time on my own. I imagine that if I spent most (or all) of my life single, I would feel a decent amount of resentment toward the girls who managed to find a guy without trying too hard, and I always feel somewhat guilty when I talk to lonely girls who are looking for someone with whom to share their lives.

But here's the weird thing... I don't know if my lengthy experience with relationships has necessarily been ideal. When I am alone, it doesn't scare me as much as I think it should. Those brief periods of singledom tend to be accompanied by independence and clarity of thought, and I am much more focused on my faith and my intellect than when I am with someone. Granted, it's entirely probable that I'm more afraid of being alone than I realize, and as a consequence I automatically turn toward what I know to be an immovable foundation, but the underlying reason is less important than the result it provokes. I also have never had to deal with being alone for more than a few months, so this theory might not hold up after a year of loneliness. But that's not the point either.

What I'm getting at is this: it's so much easier for me to be a person when I'm on my own. I always tell people that it's no good to change your personality when you meet someone you like, because if you want to be in a relationship you have to be honest. So when I am alone I am pointedly myself in my behavior, I keep my own counsel, and I have less trouble making decisions. I have plenty of projects to work on and I'm something of a hermit these days, so I don't mind spending time by myself. It's actually a pretty good setup all things considered, because I don't mind taking care of my own business leaving well enough alone.

But I also love the adventure and the challenge of relationships. I love the concept of marriage, and what it means to love someone, to create one life out of two, to balance strengths and weaknesses and personalities. I want someone to love, someone who looks at marriage and life and family the way I do.

It's just that when I'm actually in a relationship, I become someone else. I have a traditional/conservative understanding of gender roles and I want a man who isn't afraid to step it up and be responsible—but somehow my brain translates "stepping back to let him work" into "acting like a complete fucking idiot." Now that I have someone to talk to about my ~~feelings~~ and to bounce ideas off of, I do it ad nauseum until I turn into a nervous wreck. I believe so strongly in honesty that I go overboard, and not only do I feel everything, I have to share it and talk it out and make sure that my feelings haven't had the wrong effect and what are his feelings and what do we do about this?

... it gets to the point that I hate myself, because ... I'm not myself. I'm someone else. Someone pathetic and useless and really just plain obnoxious.

It's easier to be alone, because there's so much less on the line. It's not that relationships are work (although they are) ... it's that I'm afraid they're going to end. And that fear ends up biting me in the ass because I'm so busy trying to be perfect that I forget to be Piera, which is what landed me the gig in the first place.

So when it comes down to it ... this is why I've never spent that much time single. Because I don't need to—my challenges lie in the relationships themselves. I let the fear of losing someone get in the way of trusting God; I create a ridiculous image of the girlfriend I "should be" and beat myself up for not being able to be her. I periodically wonder if it would be better to just give up and be alone. I'd be missing out on the family/kids thing... but at least I'd keep my figure...?

And then I remember, and am consequently completely humbled by, the fact that God's design even includes putting us up against the very things we fear and hate, just so we learn to fight them.

I just wish I could realize this in the actual moment, instead of in the bizarre occasions when I am taken out of it.

For Me This Is Heaven / Jimmy Eat World

(listen)
The first star I see may not be a star
We can't do a thing but wait
So let's wait for one more


And the time, such clumsy time
In deciding if it's time
I'm careful but not sure how it goes
You can lose yourself in your courage


When the time we have now ends
When the big hand goes round again
Can you still feel the butterflies?
Can you still hear the last goodnight?


And the mindless comfort grows 
When I'm alone with my 'great' plans
And this is what she says gets her through it
"If I don't let myself be happy now, then when?
If not now, when?"


The time we have now ends
And when the big hand goes round again
Can you still feel the butterflies?
Can you still hear the last goodnight?


I close my eyes and believe 
Wherever you are, an angel for me


When the time we have now ends
And when the big hand goes round again
Can you still feel the butterflies?
Can you still hear the last goodnight?

Unfortunately youtube only has the original Jimmy Eat World version—the one I listen to is an a cappella version that I only discovered thanks to my brother's friend from college, who had it on a mix that eventually made its way to my cd player. I don't actually know anything else by Jimmy Eat World (and I don't even know if the version I have was performed by them), but this is the song that can make me cry almost every time I listen to it.

It has only lately occurred to me how emotional I am. There's a term in Greek (which for the life of me I cannot remember) that my professor used to call "the fire in your belly," the kind of gut-wrenching emotion that has a nearly tangible physical presence. He always struggles to explain it in the English but it makes perfect sense to me, because I am quite familiar with the sensation.

This is one of the reasons I love music so much. This "fire in my belly" is only a result of something external, and music is an especially powerful trigger. I can find meaning in lyrics that the artist himself probably did not intend, but such a meaning that lights that fire and gives voice to the depth of my own emotion.

And this song. I listen to it periodically, at different (usually emotional) points in my life, and every time a different phrase stands out to me. I believe it was intended to be a breakup song but as far as I am concerned this is largely irrelevant, because it fits pretty exactly into the way I understand the perfectly-designed mess of my life. It's about the way that time passes, and the way we continually face the completely unexpected. It's about making plans and trashing them, about the end of things as much as hope of what's to come. It's about struggling to get through the day—and about finding the reasons to do so.

It's about life, in all its complex, painful, wonderful, chaotic beauty.

And sometimes I need that fire in my belly to see life for what it is.