In the Name of Love

I've been thinking of this post since the U.S. Supreme Court struck down the Defense of Marriage Act and Prop 8. Marriage equality is the source of such strong, impassioned opinion. Growing up in a conservative Christian home, I can't say that I always fell on the right side of this issue, though in my heart I always knew what felt right. My mother and I had a rather terse conversation about marriage equality, which resulted in her exclaiming aghast, "But you are a Christian!". Yes, I do consider myself a Christian. I believe in loving your neighbor as yourself. In loving all people the way Jesus did. I also consider myself American, and celebrate the freedom we have as Americans to believe as we will and do as we will (though lately, it seems with greater restriction). Here's what I believe deep in my heart about sexual identity: it is not something most, if any, of us choose. I also believe that if two people love each other and want to be committed to each other for life, it makes absolutely no sense not to honor that. How wonderful it is. I guarantee you that the vast majority of gay and lesbian couples that decide to adopt or choose other means to have children, that they will probably be equal or better parents than 80% of straight couples. They have to work much harder and show much more dedication to become parents. And, in the end, I simply don't understand why people of a certain religious belief feel so threatened by marriage equality. First of all, I fail to see how this is harming others. Secondly, we live in a country where we are blessed to believe what we wish about religious, and it is hypocritical to insist on your own beliefs and taking away that choice from others. Finally, this doesn't take away from marriage- it elevates how special it is to some of us, and honors that choice of commitment.

Which brings me to my second thought on love: real, sustaining, committed love is a choice. While there are some out there who may fall in love a la Romeo and Juliet (all consuming, desperate, dramatic, throw all caution to the wind kind of love), that's not reality for most of us and there's nothing wrong with that! I think it's a great shame when people let go of great partnerships because they've been led to believe that if you don't feel that Romeo and Juliet love about someone, then it must not be meant to be. The husband and I went to see Before Midnight yesterday. It was by far the best of the three movie series, because it was so real. I read a review where the reviewer regretted seeing this side of the relationship between Celine and Jesse, after the loving romance of the first two movies. I feel the opposite: gone is that young, generalized, self-indulgent love, and instead it's reality: love can be work, love might mean making a choice at the end of a hard day or ugly disagreement that you will stay and continue to accept the other person. That you will choose to remember all the things that make you great together. I think that kind of love is the most beautiful. But that's just my opinion.

What Matters

One of the nicer things about getting older is gaining perspective. If you haven't found that age has been helping you gain perspective, I highly recommend looking into it. What mattered on my 31st birthday was different than say, my 21st. No need to get a large group of friends together to celebrate- I love my friends and feel loved all the time. My husband does nice things for me and shows his love regardless of the day. Like when I've been cranky and sick for the past two weeks and he has taken care of me. Like the day he got home from work early and made a huge pot of chili. I'm just generally happy to be me, and though there will always be room for improvement and growth, I am aware of who I am, who I used to be, and it's all good.

Another happy symptom of age or growth is the ability to let things go. I'm certainly not perfect at this, but it's much easier now to understand that many people I've invested in during my lifetime are just going to be temporarily part of my life. They were there and I learned what lessons I could, and then it's time to move on. I used to agonize over this (and still do some), about what it all means, about what cutting of ties would mean about my investment, or about who I am- but, as my best friend and I discussed recently, it's not a statement of any of that. We learn from each other (hopefully), and then we continue on with those lessons to hopefully be better than we were before. I think for most people, the scope of your social world starts to narrow as you become an adult, and that's not always a bad thing. You just hang on to the friends that you can pick up with at any point in time and enjoy what time you have with each other.

I worry that social media unhealthily makes us linger rather than moving on. (Read a great piece from the Times on how social media diminishes the quality of our social connections). The temptation to know what happened to people after your intersection with their lives is huge. Connections that really have ended a long time ago are still holding on by fragments through Facebook and the like. Not that it's bad to "keep in touch" this way, but it can also become the breeding grounds for showing off, comparing, and passive cyber stalking. It makes it hard to say what needs to be said (implicitly) sometimes: "I care about you and wish you the best, but we don't need to keep tabs on each other anymore. I free you from this obligation so you can live your own life more fully. I've learned from you and I hope you have learned from me."

ING sent me this video for my birthday, which I know is an advertising gimmick, but all the same, I thought it was sweet. Plus the paper tears are cute. So I'll end  this random rambling on this note:

Play

By a fluke of scheduling that didn't work out, I had about a half hour to spare before volunteering today. I ended up at Washington Park, and it was just a perfect half hour. In the water fountains, little kids were running around with perfect glee and fearlessness. Parents basked in the sun or helped their younger children partake in the water play.  Sounds from the packed playground wafted over to my bench. A young dad and his little girl left their stroller and bag next to me, with weird implicit trust that I would watch it while they played. I don't play enough- not in a way that is as happy and uninhibited as these children, but I think I need to.

Rhythm, Rest, Movies

listening to: Teagan and Sara (coming to Cincy this July for Bunbury Music Festival!)

I've been totally out of the church loop the past few weeks, though I still manage to catch up on the service messages. The series has been focusing on life rhythms, which I think has a really nice applicability no matter what you believe in. It's too easy to fall out of rhythms, and so much harder to get into to them. The principle of building in rhythms in your life makes a lot of sense: you want to rest when it's time to rest so you can work when it's time to work. I'm terrible at resting/playing in a focused way. So I thought I'd spend a little time thinking of activities that feel restful to me:

1. Dancing
2. Reading
3. Writing
4. Hiking/Walking in the park
5. Walking around a city with no agenda
6. Findlay Market trips!
7. Savoring delicious food

Here's to hoping I will build this into my weekend rountine. I've been feeling pretty tired.

In other news, I went to see Girl Rising last night. This is probably best described by some reviewers as a "PSA" about the education of girls across the world. The concept of the film was great: each young girl from developing countries was paired with a woman writer from their country to write their stories about how they  fought to receive education. The stories are interspersed with sobering statistics of the inequity of education between girls and boys globally, as well as statistics making a case for the great return on investment from education girls. It isn't exactly a documentary, since the stories are reenacted/reimagined by the girls and their writers. The stories seemed to end abruptly with a call to action, which is to say, a screen with a number to text donations. Something in the end left me a little wanting, though in the end, this is a great way to raise awareness to an important issue. I think it would be a great film for young women to watch and discuss, and certainly is a great reminder to Americans of the privilege we have to be afforded the right to free and appropriate education in our country. Worth a watch- you can request a screening in your community through Gathr. 

Reasons

I'm starting to hate the phrase "Everything happens for a reason." I know I've been guilty of using it. It's not that I don't believe that many things happen for a reason, or that things often will work out in the end. It's just that people seem to employ it as some sort of comfort when terrible things happen. I've been hearing it a bit, recently, in response to my miscarriage. It's really not that comforting. At all. In the context of my recent struggle, these are my thoughts: I understand there is a scientific reason for my miscarriage. But there's no other great "reason" for why it happened, or why it happens to anyone. I think that most crappy things happen because of the human condition- our frailties, our mistakes, our choices- not on an individual level, necessarily, but on a macro scale. Everything we do affects everyone else around us. The things others do affects us. And I'm going to take a few seconds to talk about my beliefs, with the disclaimer that this is just what I think, and you can think whatever it is you think!

I don't personally believe that God puts misery in your life for some divine reason that you will figure out later. I do believe that my faith helps me get through those difficult times and helps me put a context to my life. But the proposition that, for instance, I had a miscarriage, and some day all this sadness will "make sense" seems silly to me. Has it helped me be more empathetic to women trying to conceive? Sure. Will I be able to talk to others about it who go through it in the future? Sure. But how does that make me feel any better about having the loss? It's no less sucky. And please, tell me some more compelling possible reasons as to why it happened (other than the science). I'm dying to know what is in store for me.

Is it horribly cynical to believe that sometimes bad things just happen and we learn to survive them? That not all terrible things have some big picture meaning? I'm not saying there's no hope of healing and feeling better, because we will heal and feel better in time. Just don't tell me that one day I will have an ah-ha moment that will help me somehow be glad it happened, or some nonsense. Seriously.