New Turn in the Blogging Road

OK, this has really been happening for a while, and I've been meaning to make it more explicit.

After sustaining two blogs, "Trusting Delight" and "Freedom Diaries", for several months, I've decided to make life simpler and put the two into one. And since "Trusting Delight" has been the longer-running of the two, it is the one that will continue, until some good reason arises for a change.

I've surely had my ups and downs as a blogger, and recently I've noticed how easily I can become the servant of my blog, rather that being clear that the blog exists to serve me and some larger purpose that I get to determine.

I am now clear that I intend to use the blog as a place both to post current observations (like, "the early morning bird chorus is so much more vigorous these days!") or photos of artwork as well as to post pieces of the larger story of my midlife journey from Episcopal priest to free-lance human being and the unfolding adventure of being myself.

This larger story is a midlife story of self-discovery and freedom, a "coming of age at 55" story, an ecclesiastical story through 24 years of being ordained and out the other side, and a theological and spiritual story of an evolving faith apart from religious beliefs, finding myself more grateful and having more fun with the unfolding adventure of being alive and being myself.

Which means that I am not attempting to post polished pieces of the story, but to let the blog serve as my way of getting stuff written, and not keeping it hidden away in some journal. To be the vehicle for what Anne Lamott advises in Bird by Bird:

"Get it all down. Let it pour out of you onto the page. Write an incredibly shitty, self-indulgent, whiny, mewling first draft."

"Then," she adds, "take out as many of the excesses as you can."

Just for the record, I'm not going to worry about those excesses for now, which would be another excuse not to write or not to share what I'm writing. Although I do aim to be careful enough to be civil and thoughtful and compassionate in a basic kind of way.

If in the process it becomes clear that I really do need a distinctly separate blog for this purpose, I'll deal with that when the time comes. (And I thank you for rolling with me yet again!)

In the meantime, I really do appreciate and am grateful for all of you who keep reading my blogs. Many of you I do not know and may never know (although I do encourage you to leave comments if you feel like it). Others are the kind of faithful friends who make life much more enjoyable!

If you are someone who has enjoyed reading "Freedom Diaries" from time to time, I do hope you will continue to follow the story on "Trusting Delight". It's all the same story!

OK. Here we go!

The Long Road to Clarity

OK, so those two poems I published in two previous posts about stuff I was dragging around might feel kinda heavy to you. But I trust you can sense that they were very real to me and important to write.

Note I said: "were very real." I wrote them more than three years ago. I'm not lugging those burdensome feelings around with me any more. I've traveled quite a distance since then.

But they are important markers for me. Milestones along the road I was on, plodding along as best I could, rarely straight-forwardly, not always pleasantly, but moving one way or another (or, rather, one way and another).

I'm sure that those two poems were trying to tell me something I needed to learn about myself, something I needed to see and hear and know more clearly, something that some part of me way down deep already knew (and I hate to admit that it took me a long while to really let that knowledge sink in, or rise up to full consciousness, to the point of acting on it).

Shortly after writing them I read those poems to my friend Patty, a fellow poet, by way of also complaining about the inner turmoil I was experiencing (and no doubt blaming on my job). When she heard them, she said to me: "Well, at least this job is getting you to write poetry!"

I remember thinking that was scant consolation. I wanted relief from the turmoil, not poetry! I wanted to get out of the exhausting inner conflict I felt about what to do with my life, a conflict that the job seemed to perpetuate and even exacerbate.

I can see now that that job was on some level just where I needed to be, because it was doing me the favor of stirring the pot of inner conflict, provoking me toward inner clarity, eventually making my life unbearable enough to get me unstuck. But at the time I didn't want any more unbearable pot-stirring or inflamed conflict. I wanted out; I wanted to escape; I wanted a break.

Reading those poems from my present vantage point, it's so easy to imagine that they were telling me in the clearest possible terms that I was through with being an Episcopal priest, that renouncing my ordination was the obvious thing to do.

But at the time I wasn't that clear, at least my conscious mind wasn't that clear. I was trying to listen to my soul, that is on the days when I wasn't convinced that I had actually lost my soul forever somewhere in the business of being a priest.

But more often than not, I was probably only listening to my mind yammering on, flip-flopping endlessly, unsure of what to do.

Unsure because not really even ready or willing to entertain in any serious kind of way letting go of the the one adult identity I had had for longer than any other--being ordained, an Episcopal priest, a "professional God person".

Unsure also because I was so easily distracted by the more immediate quandary of whether to stay in my current job or not. This was not the first time in my life that I had imagined that my inner conflict was about "being in the wrong job" rather than about being in the wrong profession, even in the wrong calling.

And here it seems time to introduce the confusing, loaded, torturous, and (to me, for the longest time) debilitating idea of "vocation".

(To be continued . . . obviously.)