rest in reason - move in passion

And the priestess spoke again and said: Speak to us of Reason and Passion.

And he answered, saying: Your soul is a oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.

Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.

But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.

If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held ant a standstill in mid-seas.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing:

And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes…

Among the hills, when  you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows – then let your heart say in silence, “God rests in reason.”

And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awes, “God moves in passion.”

And since you are but a breath in God’s sphere, and a leaf in God’s forest, you too should rest in Reason and move in Passion.

the prophet by kahlil gibran

It is appropriate that I am writing this down now amidst a long awaited rain storm, after an epic Saturday morning, and in the midst of so many thoughts, or even, dare I say it – emotions. Yes – I think they are: real, genuine, emotions. I guess that in itself is probably a small miracle.

One of the things I know I struggle with most (apart from the lack of emotions – or maybe because of my lack of emotions) is my understanding of “being present.” At least I have gotten to the point of knowing when I am clearly not being present – when I let myself disconnect from those around me and enter into a world where I take on my thoughts alone. Where the art of “processing until removed” has been perfected and where my outsides are able to remain unaffected if distant. The logical part of me has for a long time been the victor here, prohibiting the growth of the other half of being human, the part of me that wants to mourn each time I see one of my friends with bruises on her arms, or when I want to cry at the ending of a life. But even more scary to me was that somewhere I lost my ability to fully experience happiness, joy, and ultimately the ability to Love God and Love Others in the way that even the rationale part of me knows is right. And when it started to feel hard to laugh, to feel exploding joy, and to enjoy the art of being ridiculous --- I’m not going to lie, I got seriously concerned.

But over the course of the past six months (thanks to dedicated and patient nursing of the Spirit by a one HLP) the part of me that was dead for a bit started to come back. The part of my mind that had conceded to living a life of “semi-present” and that was tired of feeling sick with parasites, sick with malaria, sick with volumes of events set aside to ‘process later,’ started to get a wicked dose of ‘fully present’ – and it was a beautiful thing. I enjoy the moments that pull me in like a cheese lover living in Thailand loves a warm cheesy roasted vegetable sandwich.

And I can’t tell you how full, beautiful, challenging, and awe-inspiring the past few weeks have been for someone trapped inside their own over-logical, emotionally starved brain. They have been literally brimming with the moments that pull you in and make you stop pretending to be alive, and actually live.

        Side-bar: the annoying health woes of late were NOT due to a parasitic rebellion but due to two impacted wisdom teeth that caused flu-like symptoms and embarrassingly swollen cheeks (or what Candice referred to as “big-puffy- version of BQ”). These symptoms usually make a person inclined to feel fairly dead (which I was for a few days there) and that makes a person inclined to begin to wallow in puffy self-pity (which I did one day). And I admit, I was feeling a bit low there for a while. But it is hard to stay distant when the surreal world of selfish self-pity is met by friends who bring ice-packs, juice (pineapple nonetheless), and meds to meet all physical needs. End of side- bar.

So the last few weeks were challenging physically, as the past year has pretty much tapped my patience for feeling a bit crappy. But that just made the return of Life that much more epic. That I was literally excited to be screaming so loud with the kids that when I felt my stitches tear a bit in my gums I didn’t care. Because I missed organizing the chaos of our nightly English lessons, I missed embarrassing myself trying to speak in Thai and keep the ever-growing class of loud (or should I say energetic?) students somewhat under control. And losing ones voice is no problem – that is what weekends are for.

And it is impossible to not want to return to being present in your own life when you have Candice screaming out the back of a tuk-tuk that she loves me so freaking much. It is impossible to not want to savor the last moments of airport farewells that you gladly go back and do a round II for one more hug and to “right to the end” moments of excitement.

You are right if you think that the scattered nature of these past few weeks leads you to believe things have been busy. Our apartment has become a bit of a hostel and I love it. I woke up this morning and I realized it is Saturday: last Saturday Candice and Tony were here, three Saturdays ago it was my long-lost HLP, and today I was joined by Tony and Susan (making Tony the minority white kid in an apartment occupied by Koreans- Whoot!). So many delightful people continue to enter into our community – some for a brief time and some who want to stick around for a bit. Getting to know some beautiful and diverse people has been amazing – something that being ‘closed off’ pretty much incapacitates you to do and thus I appreciate it all the more. The moment will be brief and you know it in advance – the first time I heard this kid Elijah sing I knew I would only get to hear it 5 times and I wanted to savor each one. Each night spent with Candice was spent to the fullest – whether that means finding a place to get real roti or catching up on our second opportunity at friendship over a bowl of fresh pineapple (BQ) and mango (CT). And every morning when I go for a walk I can’t believe that I get to live in this colorful place where the skies are unlike anywhere else in the world, the plants are more fruitful and more fragrant, the smells definitely have the potential to be potent, and where the people and their comings and goings refuse to allow one to walk anywhere without constantly observing, reflecting, and sometimes commenting on this crazy little corner of the world. If all of that doesn’t keep me pulled in, it is always a good reminder when tripped by a gigantic (unmarked) hole in the sidewalk (HLP come soon – tripping without a walking buddy is just embarrassing).

For a long time I let myself succumb to my character flaw of going inward and looking at everything from a reasonal, logical, rationale perspective. But in this world that doesn’t always work. There is no way to rationalize a homeless woman, face scarred by landmines, feet bloody and blistered, asleep in the shadow of the Shangri-La. There is no way to logically assess how much one will miss a friend when she is gone for a long time and there is no way to estimate how epic that return will be. It doesn’t make sense that while I was losing my voice and trying not to laugh while teaching a class of 16 women the difference between an “R” and an “L” and an “A” and an “E,” my dearest friends were gathering together for pre-wedding festivities, excitement, and long awaited reunions. My heart was here, with the ladies, caught up in writing worksheets and operating fully outside my skill level (I was a history/political-science major, not ESL… Oh dear) and excited – SO excited – when we all got the difference between words that start with “A” and words that start with “E.” But my heart was also with my friends and hoping that in some quiet moment all of the Love I feel for Meaghan and this new beginning in her life somehow made it all the way across the Pacific and down into the St. Francis Pub in Bend where they all were gathered to celebrate.

I’ve realized somewhere in the blur of the past few weeks, that in my search to be present in my own life I’d missed what that really means. Being present does not simply mean the here and now, the tangible, the physically real, the dirt you are currently inhabiting – it is more than that. It is the ability and the desire to fully experience the present – the many places where your heart resides – and letting each of those experiences be real and genuine and full and beautiful and broken if necessary. I realized that it is possible to be simultaneously overjoyed at minimal English progress while also missing my friends. With all of the chaos, with the revolving door of roommates, with the rapid growth at work, and all of this sans my HLP, I realized that what is constant, what keeps things connected, is the Love of the Other and Love for Others. It is this spirit of unity that makes some semblance of Truth amidst the chaos – that allows you to see what is beautiful in the midst of what is broken. It is this spirit that can open my heart (formerly unable to feel at all) to feel two emotions – simultaneously. It is this spirit of Peace that has shown me what it means to ‘rest in reason and move in passion.’

BQ