Church Camp

We just got back from a week-long UU kids camp. I've been wanting to go for years; we hear a lot during the year about "camp magic" -- a place where generally reluctant UU kids actually want to go every year. 

There are no "families" at camp, even though most (but not all!) adult "counselors" are parents. Some were, but their kiddos are now adults. 

Like most camps, there are campers 3rd grade through 8th grade. Then there are Counselors-in-Training (CITs). Because people continue to want to come back, there are also "Young Adult Mentors" (YAMs). 

My 14-year-old leaned into the no families rule -- generally not making eye contact but not actively avoiding me. 

My 10-year-old declared the rule stupid and refused to follow it, but even so, he did not seek me out much, although bedtime was still important. Lots of singing! Which worked out well for his roommate, who was more homesick than most. 

So I was left as just myself - an adult among kids - parental but not a parent. At camp but not a camper. I found myself SO SELF-CONSCIOUS! Walking the delicate tightrope of asking questions but not be prying, being silent but not withdrawn, being present but not centering myself. I was the only adult who had not been to camp before, so I found myself empathizing with the new kids, who were also the quiet kids, on the edge of every game, sitting alone during meals. What is more tortuous than being a new kid? Turns out... being a new adult. The responsibility to do something about both my own discomfort and theirs made the discomfort urgent. So I went about gathering the loners into community. And by day 3, the CITs had been admonished enough that there were many helpers in this quest. 

And by day 5, there were no outliers. There were certainly still moments of discomfort and shyness and awkwardness that all kids - and all people - have. But camp magic worked. Many became one. And had fun. And accepted our infinite, unique quirkiness. 

I think all camps do this, some better than others. Some more intentionally than others. Our UU camp was very intentional, teaching the skill of inclusion and practicing the courage to show up. So vulnerable and so beautiful. 

The call to worship today at church:

Let's not go building new walls around our hearts

We have already enough that keeps us from each other

Enough that keeps us from ourselves.

For this hour we practice showing up with a willingness to see, to be seen

To remember ourselves, whole, and still becoming better

To believe it is ok to not be ok

That we are loved, even when we feel unlovable

That we belong, even when the ground comes out from under us

To be for each other a surprising generosity, a sudden

sweetness, a sign of hope the start of a new day.

Together, we can be this brave.

The welcoming song:

I pray for you; you pray for me. I love you; I need you to survive. 

I won't harm you with words from my mouth. I love you; I need you to survive. 

Groundedness

Umea asked me if I was ever fun. An old friend asked me what I did for fun. A new friend told me how he fills his days with joy now that he is retired. 

I have a new answer: tennis. To be more specific, tennis lessons. Turns out, I do not like playing matches, but boy do I love drilling! I've been doing it for several summers now, and this year, I seemed to come into my own. 

And the other things I fantasized about when picturing my retirement were similarly active - riding my bike, going for hikes, running. Turns out that what's fun is moving my body. 

How ironic when what I prioritize is being in my head. 

 It's so easy to get lost in there. 

When we talk about grounding ourselves, we so often mean in our bodies. Moving our breath from shallow to deep. Settling our weight into our hips. 

The metaphor for grounding to me has always been the rootedness of a tree - slow growth outward to grasp the earth and hold on, hold onto more and more as you grow. But today, listening to a meditation about courage, the metaphor the woman used was lighting, and I realized lighting grounds, too. A flash of electricity that connects sky to earth with violence and awesome beauty. There and then gone. A strike. 

I had asked some people at a party on 4th of July when they felt grounded in who they were. My friend's mother said - "Oh, very early. I was lucky to have people who mentored me toward leadership." This matches what I knew of her but was not the answer I was hoping to hear. But today, after telling that story, my friend said, "Sure, she felt grounded early, but she never felt free." She could never jump into a new situation, travel to Europe by herself. She was rooted to her spot in the world but didn't see much of it as a result. 

And so I now have 2 metaphors for groundedness that give me more freedom, more hope that whatever I am feeling is what I am supposed to be feeling - connecting to the here and now, digging deep and wide - and branching out (oops, still tree metaphor!) because I feel safe in who I am and so can leap into something new, strike out in a new direction and see what there is to see. 

For today, this feels revelatory. And enough. 

Meditation for Anxiety

As you breathe, feel how your anxiety is the high strung vibration of too much too fast, and how as you breathe out, you can deepen that tone, bring the high whine from your head and your face and your throat into a low vibrato in your core, like a tiger's roar, pushing you forward into movement from the icy block of your stuckness and fear. 

Dissatisfactions

I'm struggling this week with feeling out of balance on multiple tightropes. (Warning: much whining ensues.) 

Work feels so overwhelming that I don't have time to get organized enough to delegate work to others and free up time to work on what needs to be done. I am canceling meetings so that I can meet with others. I am working on the weekend so that I can actually put in time on tasks that take concentration. It's ... exhausting. And feels like there's no end and no solution and no way to continue. 

Exercise feels like there's never enough and no motivation to do more. I had been running with some ladies training for a marathon, but a few weekend trips away left me behind the wagon. Now I'm dragging myself 3 miles before it gets too hot by 8 am. Thankfully, yoga at work twice a week seems to be holding (and holding me steady), but while that is a GREAT deal and good value, it's still too much money. But I know investing in myself and my balance is worth a whole lot more. 

My relationship feels distant. My partner's been not feeling well for a couple weeks, which has left our schedules out of sync and our energies missing each other. And I have been hiding. Turning inward and then wondering why I feel so alone. 

My daughter continues to struggle with cutting. She seems joyful and yet emerges from multiple nights with visible scars of her anxiety. I do not know how to help her, and she seems wrapped in teen solipsism that leaves any solutions years beyond her reach or consideration. 

My son is addicted to a video game with shooting and death at its center. He rolls his eyes at us when we express worry and actively resists any attempt at redirecting his time and attention to other things. We have some leads about how to keep making other activities more viable, easier to choose, and yet the effort to keep them in front of him is relentless. 

My mother is far away in Michigan, and the physical distance is only one symptom of how far away she feels. My oldest sister went to my niece's wedding shower and wedding and did not give her a gift. I'm struggling with how to feel about that and whether there's anything I should do with my feelings. I'm angry and disappointed and feel protective of my niece and righteous about what my sister should have done. 

But there are blessings, too. This Friday I'm meeting up with one of my favorite work people who is in town. Next weekend, my neighborhood friend growing up is visiting from California. The next night is my 30th high school reunion. Then I spend a week at church camp. Then go to Navajo Lake with my old boss who has become the summer grandpappy for our family. 

And today I'm headed to a friend's house for wine. Tonight I'm meeting up with high school friends who were all thespians together.

There are many blessings. And maybe a little of this is an introvert feeling overwhelmed at living out loud in front of so many people. 

But maybe it's also that I am hiding from myself and what I should be doing to make my life what I want it to be. And it's hard to hide with so many people asking questions and loving me into showing up.