Bygone
When the ghosts of the
Past condense to vapor escape
From your throat in wheezes until
Your lungs have totally deflated
This
Is when the silk layer of
Reality- lighter this go ‘round- will settle
On your shoulders and
You will move outwards in the
Tree rings towards
Freedom.
The First Body I Drank
I was born yesterday
From the brine tracing
Roots on your body.
You laid there,
A shimmer evaporating
From the sand.
I am thirsty.
I’ll not be
Your acre,
A stretching plain soaked with sweet rain.
Don’t get up-
Listen. My dress touches
The floor, spreads
Like a spill.
And I am thirsty.
I will take your fingers in my mouth
And consume
You.
Spirituality and Cycling
I grew up living in Catholic and Jewish households. Both my mom and stepdad were raised in religious settings, and my stepdad still goes to church every weekend. My dad was raised Jewish, but like my mom, does not practice very much. I was essentially allowed to choose my religion growing up, and if I even wanted to practice one. I didn’t go to Sunday school or CCD or Hebrew school, I wasn’t communion-ed, and I wasn’t bat mitzvah-ed. I grew up trying things out– I was a Creaster church-goer, attended temple on a few Jewish holidays, and prayed to a God when I was younger. But, in the end, nothing stuck. Nothing resonated.
I’ve explored Buddhism, some aspects of which I like very much. Over the summer, I went to Won Buddhist temple near my home. The services included walking or seated meditation, chanting, and a Dharma talk. For a while, I considered myself Buddhist; I granted myself that title. And it felt nice to belong to something that looked for meaning outside of the intellect. It felt nice to belong to an organized, established religion. But after talking with my friend (who took the Intro to Buddhism class at the University of Michigan), I realized that the Buddhism that I was practicing was a more new-age, Americanized form. So I didn’t know anymore if I could consider myself truly Buddhist, especially since my practice consisted only of attending weekly or bi-weekly services. I was not following the criteria that I believed to exist, and I didn’t feel that I had the right to name my practice anymore.
In retrospect, that was a silly thing to think. But it wound up pushing me towards a realization– I practice something. And I've decided to label that something Spirituality. Merriam- Webster's definition of spirituality is, "of or relating to sacred matters; ecclesiastical rather than lay or temporal; concerned with religious values". My working definition of spirituality is more specific: an individual practice that is not based on a text; a practice sans organization or belonging to a larger group of people who put their faith in the same things. That’s not to say that I don't respect religiosity and organized religion, just that I have chosen a different route. There are things from Catholicism, Judaism, and Buddhism that I have taken with me, and I’ve fused them all into my own belief system. I'm grateful to have been allowed to explore religion and choose where I want to place my faith (if anywhere).
***
I’ve been daydreaming pretty often, mostly because trees and plants are budding, and colors are shocking the world awake. And these daydreams have often turned to the concept of cycles. I’ll chalk it up to the seasonal cycle and this transition from winter to spring, but I’ve also been thinking about the lunar cycle, the menstrual cycle, the cycle of life. There are so many cycles– it has to mean something.
First, the cycle of the seasons: I love the movement within the environment. I could never live in a place without seasons because I need to see the cycle of life in plants and trees. I want to be startled awake by the cold and then brought back into the warmth with blossoms. Second, the menstrual cycle: because the menstrual cycle allows the cycle of life to continue turning, I find infinity in the feminine. Most religions that I have encountered are heavily male centered (epistemologically), but my practices and beliefs center more on the natural order of things, on Mother Earth. Which empowers me in a way that other belief systems have not. Third, the cycle of life: I’m a big believer in the energy of things. I believe in reincarnation in the sense that the energy resting in my body will be born into new life once "Lauren" is gone. This life energy is shared by all living beings, which means that I ought to learn to live in harmony with the natural world, including other humans, animals, and plants. It also means that I have the opportunity to share "my" energy with other living things, and to receive life energy in return. Finally, the lunar cycle: this ties into the idea of cultivating harmony. Essentially, we as humans are so small. There are many larger forces governing our lives, like the moon guiding the tides. The universe can live without us. Earth can live without us. But we cannot live without these things. Cultivating harmony with the natural world becomes necessity, when considering this perspective.
Now that I’ve laid out all of these hippie-esque, far out ideas that flit around in my mind, let me bring things back to a more tangible place, and apply this spirituality to my everyday experiences (if you’ve stuck with the piece this far, thank you for taking the time to learn about my perspective– you are appreciated).
Essentially, it all comes back to the idea of cycling. Cycles are fundamental and infinite. As I mosey on over to checkpoints in my life, reach goals that I have set for myself or that have been set for me, I remember that these are not endpoints. They are simply dots on my life circle. I don’t imagine lines or linearity as the shape of life, because lines mean that there is, indeed, an endpoint. If I picture my life as a circle, it just means that I can keep growing forever, if I want to. It means that I don’t need to work towards a goal– I can just keep working for my own sake.
I'm not sure if I cultivated these notions, or if they have been resting within me since birth and I've only discovered them. I can't explain fully where they came from– spirituality is inexplicable in many of the same ways as religion. I am only glad to have them now. To have spirituality with me now.
Youth
If at some point we all succumb
For goodness sake, let us be young.
‘Cause time gets harder to outrun,
And I’m nobody, I’m not done.
-The Vaccines
I respect youth. I value it, fight it, fear it. Having completed only my first year of college, I’ve not been responsible for a career, a home, another person. I’ve never worried about angering a boss for fear of losing my job and my income. I’ve never worried about losing my home, failing my children. The only things I am responsible for at this stage in life is myself and my own future.
I possess vitality and exuberance (when I get enough sleep). I have the energy to go to class, then the gym, then to parties. I can stay awake through the night to write an essay. I can drink enough to drown most women of my stature and still function pretty well. I can do this for a few days in a row and still enjoy it. I have the opportunity to learn about anything- Buddhism, cells, the stock market. There are so many professors who want to teach me how to write or how to conduct research. I revel in the company of my friends, hoping that nights with them will be eternal, that naïve political debates and deep concern for the future of our civilization will never wilt. I desperately hope that I will always feel anger, nervousness, joy, and love as powerfully as I do now- love for friends, family, strangers. That I will continue to wake up most days with excitement.
And yet, I crave maturation. There sits within me a deep-rooted desire to fall in love. Instead of appreciating my independence and self-sufficiency- my opportunity to play by my own rules, to not worry about someone else’s reactions to my personality and choices- I search desperately for love. And while I search as if love would deliver me from suffering, I live a paradox. In the darkest recesses of my mind, I don’t resent this or any suffering. It will help me grow. And grow up.
Living in an apartment, I’ve started to understand what it’s like to have my own place. While the decision to live off campus was partly compelled by a desire to live with friends far away from security, I also wanted to learn to pay electric bills, cook my own meals, and clean my own house. I want to be responsible for something larger. I wanted to cultivate the feeling of being home away from my parents, and now I wonder what it would be like in a house where my friends are replaced by my children. I look forward to rising up a branch on the family tree (when/if I’m ready) and being shrouded in its foliage rather than hanging off of the lowest limb.
Again, I crave maturation. As a young person, I wish that my optimism would be appreciated rather than mocked. I wish that my thoughts and opinions would be taken seriously- that I would be respected for what experience I have and accepted for that which I do not.
Another paradox– I fear age. I fear that I will not be able to do all the things I want to do, say the things I want to say. There are so many people that I want to befriend, to love, and simply not enough time to do it all. I fear losing my optimism and my energy. I forever want to be able to socialize with my friends, get to know them more deeply, meet strangers. What happens when I start to discuss the weather with others more than I discuss life? What kind of identity will I possess then?
I fear that age will change me in unnatural ways, that I will lose myself- this self that I have worked so hard to cultivate and to love. I beg you– youth, age, be gentle with me.