Life ain’t always pancakes and syrup. Sometimes it’s crying on your drive to work, yelling obscenities in your car, or crying at Inside Out. During those atrociously torturous moments that seem to drag on forever, I hope you remember you’re holy then too. In all your anger, frustration, and sadness, you are still holy and good.
Life is about consumption–to live and not be consumed. Balance. Never consume too little that you’re left bare on the shore, with only the water hitting your toes. Never consume too much, that you’re being overpowered by the waves in the sea and you cannot see. You drown. Consume in a way that is fruitful and forgiving. It’s curious and filled with pure delight and gentleness. Did I mean consume or love? What is love without the consumption of all things?
I devoured The Handmaid’s Tale like a parched man in the desert. And I, without pen in hand, let it devour me. When was the last time I did something for pleasure instead of necessity? When was the last time I allowed myself to be devoured?
December 9, 2019
I am here. I am here at my breaking point of school waiting to be released. I am here believing that my life is more than this. I am here going crazy.
If I hang myself at this exact moment, will I still have to write this paper? Hell is me writing academia over and over again. I never thought I’d get here. I never thought that I would hate academia, but I guess this is metamorphosis. This is me coming out of my cocoon. This is me getting my wings.
I am here with feathers outside my back and the world feels differently than it did months ago. I feel different. I’m not sure what to do here, except to fly. I always wondered how birds knew exactly where to go. I am learning that freedom is innate. I don’t know how I know where to go, but I know I am headed there with my new wings, new heart, and my awakened spirit. This is what it means to fly.
New converts are funny to watch. I mean converts in anything–the faith, yoga, home ownership. They throw themselves into their new passion with a great pride and zeal that others always congratulate them on. But, who cheers us on when the zeal fades?
Recently, I’ve gotten back into yoga, and I guess you could call me a new convert. I’ve thrown myself into the practice rather responsibly. I don’t overdo it. I’m resting when I need to. However, I still find myself day dreaming about my play time (yoga time). I find myself going over different flows in my head, counting down the moments until I can try it out on the mat. Once I get to the mat, it’s such a relief. Sometimes, the flow I imagined is successful by my body. Other times, it is not (looking at you crow pose). The practice in itself requires honesty and commitment. I must be honest about where I am and where I began. I must be committed to continuing, even on days where I sense no progress.
I find that most things in life are like yoga, particularly school. Lately, for the past month or so, I’ve felt that zeal for school fading. It seemed to have disappeared overnight. Almost regularly, I’m asking, “Why did I begin?” That question goes unanswered still. I’ve gotten to the point where because I don’t see my M. Div. taking me anywhere, I have stopped. I have stopped all things except for attendance. It is a miracle I am still passing. But, if yoga and Jesus have taught me anything, it’s that we continue into the unknown. That march into the unknown isn’t always brave. I might forget what the goal is. I might find myself to be more lonely than I expected. But, I know what will result is a more honest Aisha, a more committed Aisha. Most days, that’s all I can ask for.
I don’t know where or if this post finds you, dear reader, but I hope wherever you are, whatever you’re doing that you continue. Hold on just a little while longer. Stay committed. Soon, you’ll remember why you began. In the words of a very wise fish, “Just keep swimming!”
It’s so funny. I had big plans for this summer. I had all of these cities and landmarks I was going to visit, but none of it happened. It’s funny and relieving. I don’t deny that oftentimes traveling can be highly therapeutic, but that is not what I needed this summer. I needed rest.
My second semester of seminary was exhausting in a way that was completely new to me. I was spent emotionally, mentally, and physically. On top of school was life–family happenings, adjusting to the demands of a new job, and recognizing I was on a steady ground financially. My second semester, which began in January, contained a lot of resets. Last semester was one of the first semesters I pursued healing more than I did anything else, school included. My anxiety was through the roof. I was a mess, but I persisted. It was worth it. My grades turned out exceptional. My family life was whole, more so than it has been in years. The newness of balancing work and school was wearing off and becoming normal. And one more highlight…I paid my mortgage on time every month. Bonkers.
When the semester ended, I checked in with my therapist. I am that person that will freak out for weeks on end, then when it’s all said and done go, “Wow. That was fine. I’m fine,” when really I’m not fine. Therapists are lovely, and mine is quite great. She pointed out how emotionally difficult my semester was. She ran through every event of the semester, yet I still could not accept those experiences as highly impacting. I told her very quietly, “I just think that if it isn’t something that can be seen then I should be fine. If no one is dying, if nothing drastic is happening, then I’m okay.” It wasn’t until I said that out loud how invalidating I realized that was to myself. So, that led me to make a list of places I wanted to go and sights I wanted to see.
I rearranged my schedule so I only worked three days out of the week, with Wednesday being my Friday. When it came time to buying that first plane ticket, I accepted that I didn’t want to go anywhere. I wanted to enjoy the tiniest of pleasures like sleeping in, cooking breakfast, strolling in the grocery store, coloring, going to a park, or doing absolutely nothing. For two days out of the week, I had no goals. I did what I felt, and do you know that I completed more work this summer than I ever have in a semester? I read more books. I wrote more stories. I opened up more to people, processes, and opportunities. Because I allowed myself moments of nothingness, sometimes just sitting outside for hours because I could and the weather was nice, I felt accomplished. If all I did was get up and breathe, then that day was enough.
This summer I thought a lot about Elijah. I usually relate to the “What are you doing here?” part of his story, but not this time. I think about him being spent, asking for death, then sleeping. Although our stories are a wee bit different, the outcome is the same:
Elijah Runs Away from Ahab and Jezebel
19 Ahab told his wife Jezebel what Elijah had done and that he had killed the prophets. 2 She sent a message to Elijah: “You killed my prophets. Now I’m going to kill you! I pray that the gods will punish me even more severely if I don’t do it by this time tomorrow.”
3 Elijah was afraid when he got her message, and he ran to the town of Beersheba in Judah. He left his servant there, 4 then walked another whole day into the desert. Finally, he came to a large bush and sat down in its shade. He begged the Lord, “I’ve had enough. Just let me die! I’m no better off than my ancestors.” 5 Then he lay down in the shade and fell asleep.
Suddenly an angel woke him up and said, “Get up and eat.” 6 Elijah looked around, and by his head was a jar of water and some baked bread. He sat up, ate and drank, then lay down and went back to sleep.
7 Soon the Lord’s angel woke him again and said, “Get up and eat, or else you’ll get too tired to travel.” 8 So Elijah sat up and ate and drank.
The food and water made him strong enough to walk forty more days. At last, he reached Mount Sinai,[a] the mountain of God, 9 and he spent the night there in a cave.
So often I think we forget that the best things we can do for ourselves are rooted in getting our most basic needs met. We need adequate rest. Our society is heavily built around the (now crumbling) idea that if you are not constantly working, hustling, producing something then you are failing at life. That’s not true. Being overworked, emotionally drained, and constantly on the go are not life giving. There is nothing beautiful about breaking down.
This summer has been a summer of healing. I have given away all my burdens, processed emotional scars, and became more vocal in the process. I trust my instincts the first time around and listen more to myself and other people. I am connecting with myself emotionally, which is helping me experience this world and the Spirit in ways can only be described as divinely magical.
I’m reading Beloved by Toni Morrison, and I’ve been holding on to this line: “Anything dead coming back to life hurts.” I feel as if I’ve been a zombie all this time. Coming back to life, healing from the tomb I was in, is exhausting. But, I am here. It took me resting to appreciate where I am.
Rest is holy. Get some.
Do you know God thinks about you? Do you know He hears every desire of your heart? Do you believe me as you read this? Well, He does, and you don’t have to go far to know it. He hears every outcry of your heart. He’ll bless you in the littlest of details to the life-altering moments just to remind you that He’s there. He’s listening, and you don’t have to wait for the big problems to arise before you call on the Lord.
I serve as an usher at my church, and we receive our schedule Thursday morning. I skimmed the email about halfway through, knowing I wasn’t on it for that week. I sat for a moment and started thinking about all the other ministries and for a few minutes set my mind on one in particular.
I said to myself, “I’m going to serve on that ministry.” My heart pointed to it, and I put that desire away for a rainy day.
Today, I was at church, and I had to excuse myself during the Apostle’s preaching because my allergies got the best of me. I was sitting in the lobby at a table watching the sermon on the TV and pouting about it. I was disappointed I wasn’t in the sanctuary. Every time I tried re-entering the sanctuary, I would cough so hard and loud that I became a distraction.
I strained to hear the remaining parts of the sermon. Five minutes before the closing prayer, I see, Mrs. C come out of the sanctuary. I hadn’t realized I was sitting at her table. She wasted no time in saying how she’s seen me around. She asked me what else I was involved in at the church. We talked for not even five minutes before she asked me if I was interested in serving with her. She runs the ministry I was thinking about Thursday morning.
The last words the Apostle said that I could hear was, “God’s got it!” And He does. He holds your life in His hands. He has every little detail planned out. He knows what you’re going to want, when you’re going to want it, and how He’s going to get you there. However, if I was really disappointed about my lobby seat, I could’ve waited in the car or gone completely off the grounds, but I didn’t. I sat at that table and tried my hardest to focus on the sermon, and there came Mrs. C extending an invitation I knew eventually would be mine.
So, I’m asking you again: Do you know God thinks about you? Do you know He hears every desire of your heart? Do you believe it?
” “Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you.”
Jeremiah 32:17 NIV (emphasis mine)