Fear of Flying

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                                           "Remind Me Who I Am"

When I lose my way,
And I forget my name,
Remind me who I am.
In the mirror all I see,
Is who I don't wanna be,
Remind me who I am.
In the loneliest places,
When I can't remember what grace is.

Tell me once again who I am to You,
Who I am to You.
Tell me lest I forget who I am to You,
That I belong to You.
To You.

When my heart is like a stone,
And I'm running far from home,
Remind me who I am.
When I can't receive Your love,
Afraid I'll never be enough,
Remind me who I am.
If I'm Your beloved,
Can You help me believe it.

Tell me once again who I am to You,
Who I am to You, whoa.
Tell me lest I forget who I am to You.
That I belong to You.
To You.

I'm the one you love,
I'm the one you love,
That will be enough,
I'm the one you love.

Tell me once again who I am to You.
Who I am to You.
Tell me lest I forget who I am to You,
That I belong to You, oh.

Tell me once again who I am to You.
Who I am to You.
Tell me lest I forget who I am to You,
That I belong to You.
To You.

Recently, I took a low-profile, international trip. I didn't talk much about the fact that I was going, and I didn't stay away for very long. I got on my morning flight, and I headed north. As the engines roared and the landing gear motored back into the belly of the plane, I found myself amazed at my own reaction; I was totally calm. To give you an important piece of history, there was a time when flying in a plane was a very bad experience for me. In my childhood, without the regular dose of Dramamine I would be guaranteed to lose one or more meals during the airplane journey, but for me this was not nearly the worst part.

 For me, takeoffs and landings were my worst nightmare. I remember one trip to London via St. Lucia like it was yesterday. The flight was full to St. Lucia and at this time (pre 09/11) "staff" passengers could use the flight attendant jump seat. My mother was an operating senior Flight Attendant or junior Purser at the time, and she and I were travelling alone on a mother-daughter work outing to London. Mum did this often, and there was a very strict set of guidelines that crew members (and their families!) had to adhere to while representing the airline. Mum had made it clear to all three of her children what the rules were when she was working. Sometimes, my dad would come and we'd all go, and sometimes mum would take one or more children on her own.

This was a system that worked amazingly well, and we went on trips often. It went well except for the odd mid-galley throw-up or this one trip to London via St. Lucia. I was put to sit in a vacant jump seat for the flight across to St. Lucia and I obediently sat and clicked myself in. As soon as we began to taxi down the runway, I felt the panic rising in my chest. On any flight going anywhere, this was my time to panic. On this particular flight, I was facing a crowd of people staring at me and taxiing to take-off while facing backward. This was far too much for my eight year old Pteromerhanophobic self to bear. Tears welled in my eyes, and spilled over. As we accelerated into our ascent, I gripped my seat and dug my heels into the floor, not that I thought it could save me. I was in the throws of fear, and didn't care who saw my terror.

At some point back then, I may have heard an adult say that I was afraid of heights because I didn't like roller-coasters or flying, but eventually I realised something very important about my experience. I realised that I loved travelling and seeing some new city. Since I was a little girl, I was thrilled by the prospect of travel and I never remembered my terror until we began to taxi or make our descent. In those moments, it always looked the same - clutch the seat, stab my heels into the floor and pray. By the time I was an early teen, I had developed a mental picture that got me through the panic. I imagined God holding the plane like a small child holds a toy plane and flies it down. I rationalised that if God is holding the plane then it cannot fall. If God has the whole plane in His hands then I won't die a frightful death on this joyride to wherever. This got me through the panic, but it didn't ever take it away. In fact, so bad was my panic that once when I was flying somewhere and I took my Dramamine a little early, it knocked me out before we took off (or landed). When I woke up, the torturous event had already occurred (we were either airborne or landed). I basked in the afterglow of that relief for years.

Another important part of this story is that I never shared this fear with anyone. I never told my mother that the reason I behaved so strangely on that jump-seat was because I was petrified. Actually, by the time I'd developed the mental picture of God, I was settled into the notion that this was what life looked like for me on a plane at take-off or landing. No one needed to know, and I didn't need any help. I had my mental picture and I had my chanted, delirious, silent praying. Good enough!

When I was 17, I had a bizarre experience that changed my thinking forever. I was on track to become a pilot at the time. I figured that, like driving, if I was in control of the process it would be less scary/upsetting for me. That year, I went on a camp retreat with my youth group, and a man was asked to come to the camp to "bring a word." Now if you're familiar with church lingo, this could mean anything from preaching a sermon to prophesying. The man turned out to be bringing a little bit of both. At a crescendo in his message, he began calling specific people up to the pulpit. The man excitedly called for a young lady who was becoming a pilot. Knowing that I was the only one who fit the description, I walked to the front with all the morbid curiosity of anyone brought up in the Pentecostal church. The man smiled at me as I approached, and he said all the things preacher men say ("Glory Hallelujah! Ooooh Thank Ya Jesus!") then he put a hand on my shoulder and he looked me in the eyes. He said "The Lord says that you don't have to be afraid anymore. He wants you to fly. Fly for Jesus!"

Whether you believe in the more mystical side of Christianity or not, there's a very important story here. This was a man that I had never met, and who had no idea of my struggle. While everyone else in the room probably thought that the words this man said meant something to me regarding my career, or some leap of faith I'd need to take in my future, all I heard was that the panic that consumed me every flight was not "good enough." What I heard was that it mattered that I was frightened to the point of panic. I feel exposed to say that this was one of my defining faith moments because I felt that it was God speaking directly to me. The greatest compulsion for my faith has always been how personal God is. Having said that, I feel exposed because many many years later, I've struggled to hear or understand the voice of God, and the skepticism of the world has sometimes clouded my faith. I'm telling this story because it was the idea that God cared about me being secretly, silently afraid about something that didn't even bother me anymore that escalated my belief in God's goodness and presence in my life.

Nothing really changed in terms of machinery or the way that I felt physically in a plane, but since that day, I have never panicked at a take-off or landing. The thing that changed was that I felt cared for - I felt acknowledged and understood in a way that made me feel secure. Security isn't always about a physical quality in the environment. Sometimes security is about being assured that you matter, and your feelings are important to someone else. This is the kind of experience that convinces me of God, but it also helps me feel secure in other relationships. When people show me that those little things that matter to me also matter to them, I feel secure to share and I feel secure to trust. My question to myself, having reflected on this experience is this: am I noticing the little things that matter to the people I love? I realise that when life starts getting hectic and there's no slowing down in sight, it's easy to let things slip. I'm guilty of this, and I don't want to be. I am going to try to make a greater effort to let the people in my life know that that little thing that matters to them, matters to me also. 

Today, You Are Enough.

Verse 1
Lord I'm split in two
Part of me loves the world
And the other loves You
So what do I do
I wanna be saved
But I got to stay cool too
And no I'm not a fool
I know eventually I'm gonna have to choose
And really I don't wanna lose
My ticket into heaven
And a chance to be used by You

Chorus

And if it's god I'm after
I can't serve two masters
And before something happens
I got to turn it all around
Because I know
I can't just have my cake and eat it too
Cause it's real easy to stay on the fence and still do you
And it'd be cool if we could love the Lord and still go do our thing
But see it doesn't work like that
I gotta to be white or black

Oh ooohh

Verse 2
Lord I've realized
when it comes to sin
You just don't compromise
It's a matter of death and life
Be weak and do wrong
Or be strong and do right
And I don't wanna keep going to church
Singing all about how much You're worth
And then continue doing my dirt
Living as if I didn't care if You're hurt

And if it's God that I'm after
I can't serve two masters
And before something happens
I gotta turn it all around
Because you know
You can't just have your cake and eat it too
Cause it's real easy to stay on the fence and still do You
And it'd be cool if we could love the Lord and still go do our thing
See it doesn't work like that
You got to be white or black

Oh Ohhh

Bridge
Im telling you that we Saints gotta
(get it together)
Mmmhmmm
We Just gotta
Get it together

Ohh Ohhhh

If it's God we're after
We gotta pick one master
And before something happens
We got to turn it all around
Because you know
You can't just have your cake and eat it too
(Ohhh Ohhhhhh)
Cause it's really easy to stay on the fence and still do you
And it'd be cool if we could love the Lord and still go do our thing
See it don't work like that
You gotta be white or black

Cause it don't work like that
You gotta pick white or black

No Gray
No shades of gray
No no no no no... no no no no no...

Don't work like that
You gotta be white or black

Read more: Jonathan Mcreynolds - No Gray Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

My silence is a result of my own struggles with walking the middle line. How can I look anyone in the face - or even anonymously sit there behind the words I publish when I am not living earnestly, but rather living ominously? 

I feel some amount of permission to come up for air after a long, stifling dive into the stagnant water of my own issues. I've been working hard lately, and I've never been more professionally fulfilled in my working life. That being said, I've never experienced more personal stunting than I have in the past three years. Do you ever have the experience of looking around one day and realising that where you used to have all these varied interests, now only a few things occupy your time? Perhaps someone points it out to you that you seem distracted or just not fully engaged? I've been there. 

I have been in a massive rut. I have been emotionally consumed and it got to the point where I felt hopeless and depressed about my life. Yes, I'm an existentialist, but this wasn't just questions about meaning, this was stubbornly digging my heels into the memories of a chapter that was over and saying "This is the only meaning that should be! This is ALL I want, and the only thing that will ever make me happy!" I don't know if you've ever had a situation like mine, but I can tell you what I've come out of this situation with: 

1.) You don't have to lose the positive experiences when you acknowledge that a season is over: One of the hardest things for me was feeling as though the best years of my life were over. The real issue here is a lack of faith- in myself, in God, in the world around me. Do I honestly believe that the best things in life have already happened? It can't be possible, but it's so easy to believe in a moment of desperation when it feels like you're losing everything. Having faith in yourself means that you understand that you haven't learned everything there is to know about yourself - far less of the world you live in and of God. The best is yet to come. If you don't believe this, just block off one month on your calendar and truly live your life. At the end of the month, look back and see if anything changed. 

2.) Don't forget to live. Sometimes, when things are not just the way you want them to be, you end up closing lots of other doors as you stand stubbornly in front of this one, shut, steel door. Even if this door was open to you, it wouldn't be your whole life. Even if you got the best thing you've always been dreaming of, you'd still need to call your mother/father, you'd still need to invest in your personal relationships, go to work, wet your plants, feed your animals, and wash your car. If you had your perfect scenario, hobbies would still be important. Don't assume that only the version of you who gets that one thing you're hoping for deserves to go riding in the bush, or hiking on a mountainside. This version of you who exists today - the one who is un/under employed, the one who isn't in his or her ideal romantic relationship or condominium - deserves hobbies and vacations and relationships with friends. Life is for YOU, and it is happening today.

3.) Grief is not the same as fixation. It's okay to grieve the loss of something, it is not okay to become fixated on it. It is natural and healthy to mourn your loss and you should allow yourself the room to weep. What is sometimes a risk here though is that transition from mournful about loss to being convinced that loss is all you have. When we lose something important to us, it sometimes happens that we start to assume that the feeling is ours, the pain is ours, and this is what life looks like now. Sometimes, we become convinced that the worst part of our grief is what life is going to feel like forever. Sometimes, we are sure that the only way to have what we've lost is to hold our grief tightly, and let that grief be the answer to all questions about why we're not living our lives. Saying "I'm heartbroken!" is an excellent realisation, but we should never let it become our identity. If we do, then our loss continues to accumulate over time, collecting new things that never happened because of it. Don't let grief become the most striking thing about you. 

4.) Life is ambiguous. The things that we are unclear about sometimes clarify themselves, but most times they require our hard work to become clear. Make sure that you are spending quality time with yourself and what you want.

5.) Life is NOT just about you. Try your best to notice who is around you, and make sure that you're doing all that you can to acknowledge, honour, appreciate and love your environment. When you are feeling better about yourself, it'll never be clearer how much others have been picking up your slack. Try your best to notice them in the moment.  

6.) You're enough. This is something I still struggle with, but it's such an important reminder. I am not my future, I am right now. I don't have to wait until whatever standards I set for myself are perfectly achieved in order to be acknowledged as a person. Look around your life and realise that today, you are enough. 

Who Builds the House

If Lord Jehovah does not build the house, its builders labor uselessly, and if Lord Jehovah does not keep the city, its keepers wake up uselessly. (Psalm 127:1)

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It's been way too long since I published something, and I have draft posts for four of the what? six months I've been silent here. Tonight's the night, folks! Here we go.

In my last published entry, I was talking about hope deferred. I guess I have been silent in this space because I've been wrestling in private. I've been wrestling with my own faith, with the circumstances of life and with a very suddenly busy schedule. On Tuesday, I got back to Trinidad from Texas and it was a hard journey for me because it was layered with all these different experiences that affected me deeply. Over the course of the last year, I've made some huge decisions for my life. I've quit a steady job and gone into full-time private practice, I went to Europe and visited Texas Twice. I was also approached to work out of another private practice and to be on-call at a private hospital. It's a lot, but it's a good lot.

I have been so busy lately that I have found myself very far away from things that are usually really important to me. I stopped blogging, I hardly went out, and I stopped dreaming. I am many things, but dispassionate is not one of them. When my "level head and logical" traits get to the point of making me seem unaffected by life, things have gone too far. This blog started because of a transition that I was making, and that I continue to make as we approach the four year mark. I've been struggling with this idea of free will versus destiny and I'm still in a quandary. Today at supervision, my clinical supervisor mentioned the scripture captioned above about building a house in vain. This stuck to me like glue, and even now the sticky pieces of it seem to cover me wholly. What does this mean?

Cross references to this verse suggest that the meaning of this scripture is more for the reassurance of good Christian folk. God will be with them (He will not let your foot slip - he who watches over you will not slumber, Ps. 121:3; Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them Ps. 126:6). On the other hand, it also acknowledges a meaning that frightens me (Your strength will be spent in vain, because your soil will not yield crops, nor will the trees of your land yield their fruit Lev. 26:20). The latter verse is in direct reference to the consequences of disobedience, but what relevance does this have in my 2014 life? I am the kind of person who values my effort, and the effort of others. I like to know at the end of the day that I gave it my best. My parents always told me that that was the important thing - that you really gave it everything. As an adult, I want to know that I did everything that I could. Like an American Army reserve, I want to be all that I can be. It sounds like a cliched statement but it is a fervent hope of mine that I would be everything that I have the potential to be, and that I help as many people as I can to be all that they can be. In some ways, I am learning that this might be an unrealistic expectation.

Right now, I'm reading a book by Deborah L. Spar, an Ivy League professor who is exploring the possibility that our feminist revolution, while widely positive also left women everywhere with some skewed expectations of how we might actually manage our lives day-to-day. I'm not going to give a book review here as I'm not finished yet. I do want to mention my thoughts about expectations though. When expectations are based on positive ideals but they stretch a person beyond recognition, I think that the expectations need to be reevaluated. She talks about the struggle to be progressive and modern and how that means being a professional woman who also has a family and keeps a perfect home. She says that the picture paints a world where a woman has it all, and the reality is more accurately that she might have some combination of "it," but it is very nearly impossible to juggle the modern woman's agenda/schedule/expectation.

In my own life recently, I struggle with feeling as though I might be building a house, and that may or may not be useless. I think a mixture of the dynamics Deborah L. Spar is describing as well as ambiguous religious pressure is the cause of this. Am I the only one who doesn't really get how to be a good steward, as well as blindly obedient, as well as submissive, as well as progressive, as well as anything but single, as well as faithful?

Give me your thoughts, and look out for my follow-ups.

Hope Looks Like...

Soucre

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life." - NLT, Proverbs 13:12

 Hello everyone, I've been absent once again because I spent the last two weeks settling back in, getting used to my schedule and the time difference. My time in England and Scotland was fabulous, and really helpful in terms of giving me some much needed perspective. I think I mentioned that I quit my corporate job in favour of doing some consultant work for them, and turning my full attention to my private practice. Shortly after I moved to Trinidad, I felt as though I should be opening my own business but I had a transatlantic allowance worth of baggage to deal with. I didn't want to stay. I had made plans. I had hopes I couldn't see fulfillment for if I stayed.

For some people, their experience of God is more about moral guidance than it is about life choices. For example, people may let their religious identity dictate whether or not they drink alcohol, go clubbing, have casual sex or attend a church. They may do this, but when it comes to taking a particular job or moving/staying in a given location, they might feel like that is a matter of their personal preference. My experience of God sometimes makes me a bit self-conscious, because I seek Him when making the decisions that many Christians even think are "personal." When I moved to Trinidad, it was because I felt a "calling" here. I didn't want to come, and when I felt sure that this was what I should do, I cried. This isn't something easily explained to anyone, and it's especially difficult as it becomes more and more trendy to be concrete and seemingly empirical about life, and life-decisions. Evidence based practice is the only thing people want to hear about from peer reviewed journals, even when talking about the day-to-day activities of life.

There is no peer reviewed, evidence based practice when it comes to my spirit and heart though, and no empirically sound statement that covers every crevice of my dreams. For me, faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. This is the very argument that someone might use to criticise me for making decisions that no one can argue with (how do you compete with God?!).  It's not that I'm afraid to make my own decisions, and it's not like I haven't taken the time to formulate my own opinion. People have talked about how Christians romanticise definitions of faith when really they're exercising stupidity, and I am quite weary of this. I've seen their point, and it makes me feel shy about my own. I depend on God. I have had a very good and very diverse education, and I'm aware of some very un-Christian schools of thought, but I still have faith. What makes this experience of faith different from that of some religious people?  In my opinion, your faith should NEVER attempt to convince someone else of your beliefs or experience. The motivation for sharing that faith, in my mind, should never be to change someone's mind.

My faith in God is never about other people's behaviour. It's always about what I think God is calling me to do. I think that Christians are most offensive when they are so convinced of their amazing "rightness" that they want to bludgeon it into other people.That's when I find them most offensive anyway. I believe that the more you attempt to sell faith to others by showing them how wrong they were is the further away from you they'll run. That being said, my faith is such that I do seek God when making decisions about life. I do believe that God offers guidance that no one else can, and I will sacrifice my original hopes and dreams if I can feel closer to God in a decision I feel called to. The only evidence I can offer you that that is viable for me is in the satisfaction I experience in my spirit and heart when I feel closer (instead of further away) from God. All of this is a digression though, as my real point is about the experience of hope when faith seems to contradict it. I've rambled enough though, so perhaps I'll communicate these thoughts in a poem:

(Retro)Hope

What joy is this when I'm okay in not okay

You wouldn't understand if I told you, 

There's nothing to show for my time yet, but there is. 

Did you see what just happened? 

Did I miss the moment just then?

I'll look back six months, a year from now

I'll look back,

How many times have I counted the dots?

Spaced perfectly, they connect my dreams to me

Isn't it funny?

And to think I thought I'd be here forever.

Things change, whether we want that or not

Things change, even when we cry they won't

And I'm still here,

I'm alive, even.

Slowly, hope seeps into now,

A morph from one image to another

Change. Life. Dreams Alive.

I'll look back and count the dots I see.

A Shiny Toe.

I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've written, I'm currently in Shotley Bridge, Northumberland and have been to Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Charlotte North Carolina, Philadelphia, London, Edinburgh Scotland, The Lake District in Cumbria and some other parts of North/North East England. A whirlwind of a trip it's been so far, but so so valuable to me. It was Tuesday, I think, when I was in Scotland that I saw one of those very European monuments for the Scottish Philosopher David Hume on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. I noticed something really interesting about it as we walked by, and I thought I'd share it with you.

With my layman's assessment of these European statues, and no background in art history, I looked at Hume's monument with no real concept of what material the sculpture had been cast in. I just hadn't considered it one way or the other. That was until I looked at his right toe. If you look closely at the second picture above, you can see that Hume's right foot juts out slightly and the toe is suspended off of the statue base. At about one and a half times the actual size, the toe reaches a person of average height at their eye level, essentially making it the easiest thing to touch. After seeing Edinburgh Castle and Gladstone's Land, I was in tourist mode in Edinburgh. Everything is highly protected and picture taking and touching is limited where it isn't prohibited, so you assume everything is from a surreal, ancient time. The style of the sculpture also helps to take you to some other era, where men from climates like Scotland's wear togas in the middle of the city (The fact that he's wearing a Roman toga is the subject of another interesting, albeit irrelevant side-note, but I digress).

So back to the sculpture, and David Hume's toe. Though the statue is actually not that old, it is in the uncovered path of the elements, and has eroded to the blueish-green of many open air brass sculptures. All but his right toe. Hume's sculpture toe has been the lucky receptor of daily polishing by millions every year. Since the statue was finished in 1995, people trying to get a little bit closer have reached out and touched the right toe, making it the only shiny, clearly brass section of the sculpture. I enjoyed the discovery of his shiny toe, and it made me think about people in a similar way.

Have you ever met someone who surprised you with something really interesting and lovely in their character? I think it probably happens most obviously when you're falling in love. If it sounds cheesy, bare with me. I haven't written in a while, plus I really believe this. I think that most of us are a little bit eroded by the elements of our life, as we stand in their direct path. Where you notice your own erosion, you might think about how to get your shine back (read: work through your "issues"), but think about the instances where others either know or see that you clearly are a more beautiful material on the inside than what you're presenting in the moment. Imagine; just think about the people in your life who actively polish (read: affirm, encourage, speak life into) you. Imagine now how many opportunities pass each of us by because we didn't think to polish.

Tonight (it's a quarter to eleven p.m. here), I'm thinking about polish. I'm thinking about how simply reaching out and touching someone can change their very appearance to the rest of the world. It's not that hard, and it doesn't even require elbow grease. Who are the eroded brass sculptures in your life? How do you think you can touch them? My personal effort is going to be to vocalise those positive behaviours I see in the people in my life. I'm starting with affirmation, and looking for more shiny toes.

Oblivion

I watch the crowds, and the ones

Time could not change a heart.

Imagine yourself, somewhere else

Time doesn't always bring your dreams home.

Dancing feelings haunt my dreams

And the minutes do nothing for me

Where could you be, here? 

Where could I?

I climb to the top of my thoughts

To find that they lead to new ones.

I build a tower of theories,

That blows away with conversation

A vast desert can't dry this 

A day in the sun saps nothing

Try reason,

Try release.

Look at the world, 

Isn't it pretty?

Look at the whole, 

Isn't it...

Defending Your Honour

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Today's post is about self-impression. How do you view yourself? Psychology tells us that people take their self impressions into every relationship they have - your core beliefs dictate how you interact with others, at least to some extent. Self-aware people might work to challenge their negative core beliefs, acting with faith that in a particular relationship, things can be different (read: better), while people who are less self aware will not even realise when they orchestrate their relationships to if not prove, then test their negative hypotheses about the world, and people around them. Most people use impressions of themselves and others to navigate the world around them. You look at others, and you compare that behaviour to the impressions you have about them. If it's the same, you're fine, but if it's different most people are troubled by this.

For example, if you go to a movie theatre and attempt to purchase tickets for a movie but the attendant sings happily instead of attending to your request, you'll be annoyed by this, right? Your impression is that if you walk up to the box office and make a movie request, you should receive service. Another example has to do with beliefs you have about yourself. Most of us prefer to think of ourselves as capable, confident and positioned as a relevant member of our societies. When we are in conversation with others, and we find ourselves dishonoured, disrespected or somehow offended, but we fail to interject a protest, most of us walk away from those moments feeling badly about ourselves. Why didn't I know what to say to him/her? I should have told him/her where to get off... Your impression of yourself is that you are a confident and relevant part of the world you live in, and any (be it brief or extended) moment you don't feel that way is upsetting. You need(ed) to counter this other impression (a negative self-impression) with a positive one. In this case, the counter could be to say "I don't like that..." to the person directly or to rationalise in your own mind that that person isn't informed enough to speak about your worth, or impact, etc. Sometimes I think of this as defending your own honour, and it's an important skill to develop to have healthy relationships.

Defending your honour gives you and the other person an opportunity to clarify your/their position, and in the case of the offender, it gives them an opportunity to make amends. If you do this pretty promptly, you can avoid so much tension in your work/home/church/club relationships. Now, this sounds like a pretty basic concept, right? But how often are you practising this in a week? The other side to this is how healthy is the relationship you have with yourself? You can also defend your honour to yourself. In fact, sometimes our own private critiques are the most relentless and brutal of them all. When you think something negative about yourself, or your life, do you counter it with something more positive? How often are you comparing the positive evidence with one negative impression?