Choosing Happiness – Countdowns, Part 1

I was looking forward to whatever was the highly anticipated event of my 12 year-old life and telling my uncle how many months, days and hours were left until I was able to do whatever I would be doing at said event. He just kind of chuckled and said, “Yup. Life is a series of countdowns. You count down to one thing, and when that one’s over, it’s to the next one.” I wholeheartedly agreed: People trudge through the boring, anxious, or stressful parts just to enjoy the weekends. We have perfected the art of judging its day based on its location in the work-week:

Monday is to be despised – it is our enemy and shall be vanquished. Whoever loves Monday is an alien and should be ostracized because, clearly, they’re not normal.

Tuesday isn’t any better,  and Wednesday isn’t just hump day because it’s in the middle of the week. Cleverly named, “hump day” probably saves us all from getting fired on Thursday. Thank the boss’ sig fig later.

Thursday brings the beacon of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel; and Friday – the day we wait for since Sunday afternoon.

I ask you - What kind of a life is that?

We essentially waste 4.5 days for two (the other .5 is Sunday evening, when everyone prepares (home)work for the next day). Instead of mumbling and grumbling, I think it would be incredibly worth it to try and smile on Monday – maybe give an encouraging word to a co-worker, or simply smile on your morning commute (yes, even when you’re in traffic. Ever notice that radios try putting their most entertaining hosts on at the times that humans tend to be stressed the most? Find the station that encourages you the most and try to push everything else from your mind.

It’s an amazing, powerful feeling when you decide to choose happiness.
It’s crazy to think that some people believe they don’t have a choice.

Why Going to Mass once on Sunday isn’t enough.

People will think I’m crazy encouraging Catholics to go to Mass twice every weekend when they don’t even want to go once.

I’ll admit that, if I weren’t one of the musicians at my parish, I never would have thought about going to Mass twice or three times a weekend. Because it’s my job, however, I’m more-or-less forced to go (unless I don’t want to keep my job). I remember thinking This is a lot of Mass when I first started playing and singing at my church. Maybe too much. I reckon I got used to it.. as if I had a choice. I wondered if the time I spent at Mass took away time I could be spending elsewhere — with my family, or going out with friends.. you know, actually living out what I would only be lectured at during the Mass sermon anyway.

But how do you know what they’re going to talk about if you don’t even take a moment to listen?

You don’t.

This is what I’ve realized during the summer. You see, I had purposely taken some Saturday evenings off to make it to parties on time and even some Sundays off to catch an early flight to wherever I wanted to go that weekend. I’m not going to lie – this has been one of the best summers of my life. I have been able to spend more time with my family than ever before and I feel a greater sense of belonging within my family and sometimes–in the moment— at peace with myself. The good feelings seemed to have disappeared with the sunlight, however.  When everyone would go home and I would be laying in bed, reflecting on my day, I would try to pray, like I’ve made it habit to. I tried to say my general Thanks for this, it was amazing and I hope you can help me with this .. but I found that I didn’t feel right asking. I mean, I ignored God all day, for many days at a time, and now I wanted to pretend like we were best buds? Who am I kidding? The anxiety I felt before bed was because I felt disconnected from something.. from someone. And it took me until this weekend to figure out what it was.

It’s almost August and my church schedule is getting back to normal: I have played two Masses this weekend for the first time in about a month and a half,  and I already feel the difference. Because I’m at church two times, I have a chance to listen to the readings two times. Each time, I hear something different that stands out to me. I’ve realized that the first time I hear the reading, I get the story. The second time it’s read, I seem to hear the sentences, or words, that were “hiding” before – and it’s usually these words that I hear the second time that mean the most and relate most to what I need to hear at the time.

It’s the sermons that you go to Mass twice a Sunday for, however. It’s the sermon on Saturday that makes me think, but it’s the sermon on Sunday that hits me hard. Many times, the sermon is completely different, though it’s inspired by the same Gospel. It’s the opportunity to hear two different angles to the same story and find what I need in both. It’s an incredible feeling, knowing that there is something I really missed this summer; I missed the chance to feed my soul even more – I know I’d be happier if I had.

I’d have had the peaceful feeling all summer, like I do right now. It’s not like a “hey, everything’s perfect now” peace. Instead, it’s a peace that reassures me that I don’t need to worry. I never realized that I get this peace from getting an extra dose of Mass. It’s like spending time with a friend you only see once a year. If you see them only once, you get the surface story – the main points. If you start seeing them weekly, however, or even on a daily basis, you start getting the details. It’s in the details that lie the peace. It’s the details that assure me I’m being taken care of, even if I feel like I’m alone.

And, like everything else, you can only hear the details if you listen more than once.

Feeling discouraged about the human race, but…

There are so many mean, selfish, and cold-hearted people on this planet. But for every one of those, there are hundreds who are willing to give of themselves to no end so that at least one person who feels hurt, jaded, or lonely, can see the light at the end of the tunnel and know that it’ll all be okay one day. It’s those hundreds, thousands, millions I believe in – the real human beings who know we’re in this together, just trying to make this life the best it can be. Yes, there are some bad weeds out there – but if you look at the big picture, life is so beautiful because of the field of wildflowers growing together – some in different directions, but all amazing in their own ways. We just gotta grow around the mean, ugly weeds that try to hold us down (relentlessly), knowing that the more we bloom, the uglier they will seem, until they won’t be able to hold us down anymore.

Intellectual Adventure & the Ultimate Goal

I have had a few, signficant events in my life where I have felt my consciousness rise to another level. The majority of human beings might call this “change” or “growing up” (and indeed, it is so). I, however, feel the switch in my brain - where I’ve reached “the point of no return” – when I know I will no longer be the girl I have been, but a new and improved individual who will cease to be even in this state at the next point in my life when things “change.” Why this distinction between growth and change? Is there one, really? Aren’t the two terms synonymous with each other? Certainly, but change seems to affect a person positively or negatively. Growth, I believe, is a development toward the positive, only. Think about it. If you’re talking about your sister, cousin, or brother who was once a sweetheart but then “changed” – are you implying that something positive happened? (Of course, the contrary can happen — “My aunt used to be selfish, but she’s changed.”) My point is, the connotation for change that has already happened is usually not positive. Growth, however, is almost entirely positive. “My little girl grew up.” “I grew when I realized the world doesn’t revolve around me.” “I grew up over the duration of this year because…”  A “change” happens when every facet of your life is directing you towards it. Growth is accepting these changes and doing something positive with them.

I’m going to ahead and say this growth occurs when one’s level of consciousness shifts. I’m going to suggest imagining these levels as stairs, leading to ultimate consciousness — what occurs at this highest level, I can’t begin to describe (I really can’t – I’m sure I’m still way on the bottom levels). What occurs at these different levels, I believe, is a new awareness of something. I can already suggest that one level is the moment one realizes “I am able to think for myself” (this moment happened for me sometime around 12-13 years of age; sometime around becoming a teenager). I believe another level is transcended when a friend (or enemy) does (or does not) do something that makes you realize not all in the world are good people. One has now (or at least, I have) transcended two levels, as two “awarenesses” have been realized: 1. I have the ability to think for myself and 2. There is much adversity in the world we live in. I’m going to go ahead and assume that the majority of the world have lived through these stages and changed much as a result. The second step of consciousness that I’ve described, however, is the deciding level, I believe, that determines whether one will continue growing in order to, ultimately, reach a higher level. For example: if, upon learning that not all in the world are good one decides to just be bad because everyone’s doing it, then I don’t believe true growth is occuring. If one just “goes with the flow” because not doing anything against status quo is easier, then I don’t believe true growth is being experienced. I suggest that only those individuals who have truly embraced this change and have consequently grown positively are the only ones who will continue passing from one level of consciousness to another.

I would like to suggest that another level of consciousness is that of religion, spirituality, and philosophy. This is the level that I believe I have just arrived onto, and what has possessed me to write this now.

This quarter I am a participant in those classes discussing Philosophical Inquiry, Religious Worldviews and Ethical Perspectives, among 2 others. At the exact same time in the sixth week of the quarter, every single class I was taking talked about the exact same thing: religion, science, and philosophy (would you imagine that even my spanish class was on the “religion” unit at this time?). As a practicing Catholic, these topics coinciding made for a crazy, intellectual rollercoaster.

First, we read Freud’s “Future of Illusions,” which basically claims that God is this father-figure that human beings fabricated in order to feel protection from nature and a sense of command over nature and that religion is simply this concept we keep running back to in order to prevent ourselves from feeling lost. Ohhhh, boy. Hello, doubt. Freud makes a very persuasive case, and my faith felt a little off balance. The discomfort continued, however. At the same time in my [history of] religions class, we were reading scholarly essays and books that each either presented Darwinism, creationism, or Intellectual Design (a combo of the two that tries to get creationists their foot in the door where the merit of these two origins of life is concerned). Each side had persuasive arguments — one sometimes seemed to be more credible than the other, and sometimes, the other side just made so much more sense to me, as a living, breathing, human entity. Whatever the case, it made my mind spin in circles and I felt entirely lost in my faith, religion, and entire foundation of a person.

Little did I know that this uncertainty — this anxiety — was really my consciousness on its way to a higher level/a new state of awareness. This week (today, specifically) I feel I reached this new level, with its perks and its new challenges. First, I am now aware that I, as an individual, am in a constant state of flux. I may not have long until I reach a new level of awareness – when this happens, I think, is up to whatever that is guiding life and its events (I’m going to go ahead and leave that undelved- but I feel I’ll have a better grasp of what is leading this life of mine and of others eventually). Again, whether we skip levels, or whether every human being goes through the levels of consciousness the same way is another question I think I might have a theory for that another day.

I’m so much more aware of my being in relation to the being of others and my being in the world. What do I mean? I mean that I realize how much my words and actions affect those with whom I interact (what helped me become of this awareness was my experience these past two weekend with individuals who don’t seem to be aware of their words and actions. As a result, my sensitivity, to that which they are/were not aware of, has increased). For example, today on the train, a man stepped on my foot as he was sitting next to me. He apologized profusely, and I noticed he seemed genuinely surprised when I didn’t give him a dirty look but gave a big grin and told him not to worry about a thing. When I exited, he thanked me for “sparing him” and wished me a good day. Will he be kinder to the man who, in the future, accidentally steps on his foot?

When I was waiting for the next train, I saw a woman with a stunning red coat that just looked fantastic on her. I complimented her, and she thanked me with the humblest smile. I think she’s still thinking about it, too, and smiling. Which stranger might she compliment in her future, in order to share the joy I may have helped her feel?

Finally, as I was standing beneath the warming lights, a man approached and saw there was no room for him. I stepped aside and let him  stand next to me. Again, I share these stories not because I seek credit or praise but to demonstrate how widely spread shocked reactions at a stranger’s kindness seem to be. He thanked me and smiled, as if seeing me for the first time (even though he just glanced at me before, but with ‘dead’ eyes). Will he move aside for the next person he sees standing in the cold?

My point is – this is where these seemingly awful, simultaneous changes finally came together to reveal themselves as one beautifully-wrapped package of awareness:

My beliefs will not be constant. They will change. When they’re in transition, it will be a time of anxiety and uncertainty. In the same way simultaneous events come together to create this chaos, however, corresponding events will occur to bring focus into what needs to be done to calm the storm — but this tranquility will only be temporary. Change will come again, and whether I stay on the same level of consciousness or proceed higher, will be the determinent factor of whether I have, or have not, grown.

Floods, Trucks, Ignorance; Oh my!

       I woke up one morning at 5:30 in the morning to get ready for work, went through my normal ‘wake up and smell the sunshine’ routine and looked outside to checkwhat weather I’ll be styling my clothing decision for. Hello, river! I’m sent to the basement to pick up water with rags galore, and learn that I’m actually not helping -anything.- Dad tells me to give up (Thank God; I was getting tired). I step outside the door when the angry rain stops pounding on everything and see a huge UPS truck coming down the.. river? Okay. Cool. The front of the ginormous vehicle is causing strong waves that are moving the parked (now drowned) cars and whooshing (sorry, couldn’t find a better word) the water closer to the homes. A neighbor of mine waits for the UPS truck to approach closer and then waves his fist at the delivery guy, “You’re the reason for the water in my basement, asshole!”

Okay. Wait.
We were Venice before the UPS guy went down the canal.
…I don’t think he’s really the person that should be blamed here, but whatever.

He’s acted as inspiration. I found this little.. parable? And decided to add my own comments, in honor of my neighbor who now detests the United Postal Service.

The man whispered, “God, speak to me.”
And a meadowlark sang. But the man didn’t hear.

So the man yelled, “God, speak to me!”
Thunder rolled across the sky (&& it started raining in PrettyNerd’s neighborhood. Her basement experienced some flooding and because there was a river where a street used to be, someone canoed down the street..  And this all happened because the man didn’t hear the flipping meadowlark). Again, the man didn’t listen to the sign.  (Great. God’s going to erupt a volcano and this guy still won’t hear. He’s gonna be the start of the end of the world at this point)

The man looked around and said, “God, let me see you.”
A star shone brightly. But he noticed it not.

And the man shouted, “God, show me a miracle!”
And a life was born. But the man was unaware (Okay, I kind of see this. If it was his baby, he might have had a change of heart. It’s not like I think of random babies every day. Moreover – look at a tremendous tree — you try making that, brother!)

So, the man cried out in despair (what a cry baby), “Touch me, God, and let me know that you are here!” (Whoa. Maybe the water from the UPS truck was God touching the man’s basement?! Bastard didn’t pay attention, and I had to pay for it, too. Boo.)

Whereupon God reached down and touched the man.
But the man brushed the butterfly away and walked on.

Moral: Don’t miss out on a blessing because it isn’t packaged the way you expect.

Source Unknown

Turns out, the force of the UPS truck moved the garbage (leaves, dirt, etc) from the sewer and the water started going down slowly.
Makes you think, dunnit?
I wonder if that man is my neighbor.

Hmf. That would make God the UPS guy.

Go figure.