;)
OK. I have an advance copy. I cheated. All I can say is, "I heart Katherine Center." Just click here and pre-purchase your copy so you don't have to stand in line with all of the other people who will want to get their hands on this wise and funny book! Honesty, humor and great writing is an amazing combination.
Thursday
05Jun
love thursday in ordinary time
My faith works for me because I make it my own. I often change the words in prayers, sing my own songs, and skip church so I can worship outside, in the Texas Hill Country. When we say the Lord’s Prayer at church, I always use gender-neutral language and replace “deliver us from evil” with “deliver us from fear and shame.” Ellen sometimes tugs at my pants and shoots me the dreaded “Follow along, please!” look. I just smile back and figure that when it comes to spirituality, I’d rather model “find your own way” than “just follow along” (although I know it's a bit uncomfortable for a 9-year old).
In the Episcopal church, “ordinary time” is a season in our liturgical calendar. We’re in it right now. I have started celebrating ordinary time in my own special way. I use it as a spiritual season to stay mindful about the joyfulness of ordinary things and to stay equally mindful of the seductive lure of “the extraordinary life.”
Spending so many years interviewing people about shame really helped me understand this very dark and dangerous scavenger of hope that lived inside me. As I collected stories and experiences, I began to realize that many of us struggle with the shame of being ordinary. We’re afraid to live small, ordinary lives. Small, simple, and ordinary are diminished and ridiculed in our culture.
During this spiritual season, I celebrate one of the most important lessons I’ve learned from my work: ordinary is home to the purest forms of joy.
I know that I’m centered in the joyfulness of ordinary time when I can go to a movie like Sex & the City and not feel jealous, small, worse-than, or better-than. There was a time when I would have looked around that packed theater and thought, “Go away people. You don’t belong here. You’re not as big a fan as I am. You’re not as close to them as I am.” I would have watched the big screen and thought, “Shit. My life is so small.” I would have been ashamed to be one more middle-aged mother sitting in a theater watching the life I should be living.
This time was different. I giggled with all of the women around me, gave a high-five to a 60-year old woman behind me in the popcorn line who was wearing an I Heart Sex t-shirt, and enjoyed myself (and the company). I’m just one more woman in Houston who filed into the theater and had a great time. I didn’t leave lamenting the life I could have lived in New York. I left feeling so thankful for the close friendships I have. For being able to slip my hand in Laura’s hand when the movie got hard. For being able to call Dawn and cry because we didn’t see it together. If you strip the movie of the shoes and real estate, the most poignant scenes were the ordinary moments of tenderness. I think this is true for most great moments.
I know I’m centered in the joyfulness of ordinary time when I can read a book and learn from it and enjoy it, rather than regret that it isn’t my life (or regret the fact that I didn’t write it).
I know I’m centered in the joyfulness of ordinary time when something wonderful happens to someone and I’m happy for them, but I’m not jealous or I don’t hinge my happiness on it happening to me too.
In our culture, the fear and shame of being ordinary is very real. We seem to measure the value of people’s contributions (and sometimes their entire lives) by their level of public recognition or their income. In other words, worth is measured by fame and fortune.
Our culture is quick to dismiss ordinary men and women. In many instances, we equate ordinary with boring or, even more dangerous, ordinary has become synonymous with meaningless.
This is the season for celebrating ordinary time. Karen's photography teaches me about finding the beauty in ordinary things and has inspired my new Love Thursday "nature close-ups." This post reminds me that ordinary friends can still be superheros. Oh, and this post made me happy. This is also the season for remembering that ordinary people, filled with everyday love and hope, can and will change the world.
How do you know you are centered in the joyfulness of ordinary time?
06.5.2008
Reader Comments (20)
i absolutely believe that we're all unique, which in some weird way makes being different part of the wonder of ordinary. and, I totally agree with you about the memories!
You truly sound grateful for what you have in the moment, versus lamenting over some vague idea that something is missing or actions have not measured up.
It's a great place to be; satisfied in one's own moments! :)
That said, I'm commenting because I wanted to share that your thoughts here about ordinariness reminded me of a section I just read this morning in Henri Nouwen's book "The Selfless Way of Christ." It's in a section where he's talking about the three temptations of Christ in the wilderness, and this morning I was specifically reading about the temptation to be powerful.
Nouwen says, "There is almost nothing more difficult to overcome than our desire for power. Power always lusts after greater power precisely becuse it is an illusion." I took this in my mind to thinking about power struggles in relationships and of our self-image compared to others, similar to what you shared about learning how not to feel so less-than or jealous of others. This also made me think about how much power insulates us from other people and also deprives us of the freedom to simply be human.
He then goes on to say, "It is through powerlessness that we can enter into solidarity with our fellow human beings, form a community with the weak, and thus reveal the healing, guiding, and sustaining mercy of God. We are called to speak to people not where they have it all together but where they are aware of their pain, not where they are in control but where they are trembling and insecure, not where they are self-assured and assertive but where they dare to doubt and raise hard questions; in short, not where they live in the illusion of immortality but where they are ready to face their broken, mortal, and fragile humanity." To which I can only say, in huge cap letters, AMEN!
More and more, I am coming to firmly believe (and hope to make this the work of the rest of my life) that the ultimate sanctification of our being is learning, slowly but surely, how to be merely human. To accept our humanity. To find in it its heartbreaking beauty. To accept the absolute grace of such a gift. And to extend that same gift and invitation to others.
Hooray for ordinariness. Thank you again for sharing.
I feel so far behind other career women my age, I will have a ways to go before I hit my career stride and figure out what makes me special in the work place. All the other activities that used to make me "special", my volunteering at church and school, don't have a place in my schedule now. So what makes me better than ordinary? And why should I feel the need to be better than ordinary?
One of the things that I have been challenged to learn over the past few years is to forget about the silent competition among my peers and instead relish the sisterhood of women. I realize that we all have our stories, our trials, our heartaches and we do so much better when we are lifting each other up than when we are trying to "keep up" with one another.
Thank you for the insightful words. They help to quiet my soul. :)
You're writing has been so encouraging! Discovering lots of new things, exploring new ideas....it's all good, but in the midst of that I can get overwhelmed with all the 'extraordinary' ideas and possiblities....this post was a great reminder for the joy in ordinary.
Question? Do you still have days though when you slip back into not being centered in the joyfulness of ordinary time?
I guess it's always a work in progress, right?
But, I'm happy to say that I am more centered than NOT centered...so at least that's improvement from 5 years ago. Heck I think it's better than where I was 5 months ago!
So thought-provoking!
OMG - yes. That's why I have to dedicate entire seasons to practicing mindfulness. It doesn't come naturally and easily to me.There are days when my fear tries to convince me that I'm better than everyone and there are days when my shame tries to convince me that I'm worse.There are days when I buy into all of the messages and want to totally dismiss my work because there's no fame or fortune.
My best days are those I spend knowing that I'm just doing the best I can (like everyone else) and I do my work because it's part of who I am.
Honestly, I'm not sure if "being centered in the joy of the ordinary" will ever be my default. I've got a long history that says otherwise and we live in a culture that makes that VERY difficult. I think finding this sacred space will always be something I have to work toward (and do so imperfectly).My growth is not about staying in this place, but being grateful when I find it and recognizing fear and shame when I'm living in those.
And Christianne - I don't know the work you're quoting, but it sounds very interesting. It reminds me of something by one of my mentors - Miriam Greenspan. She writes, "Grief is a teacher. It tells us that we are not alone; that we are interconnected; that what connects us also breaks our hearts — which is as it should be."
This past Sunday, my pastor actually talked about this exact thing – about running the race with each other, not against each other. I will confess, I am rarely in this place, but when I am, nothing feels better. It really does feel better to live in joyful communion rather than hostile jealously, but alas, I often choose the latter. I think I do this when I cannot fathom that I am more alike than not with someone. Damn shame (pun intended).
for me right now, that would be to feel every emotion I'm feeling without feeling shameful or embarressed...to just embrace it and love myself. right now - that would be feeling centred for me.
Brilliant writing Brene... I hope you knew that! :-) xx
There are so many ways I can (and do) waste the precious time I've been given with my boys, thinking about how I can become "more" than I am.
Thank you for the wonderful reminder to let ordinary life be happy life.