Easter. And I'm as sick a dog. Yesterday disguised by allergies, today, stripped away to a mandatory autumn cold.
I just want to sleep. But I know in my heart of hearts I'd be remiss to not write, today of all days, to share the miracle that is life, and dare I say it, even as sarcastic a cliche as it sounds, the marvel that is God... that man who I only find time to pray to when I'm in a near death situation and would like to use a lifeline. Him. The man who surely doesn't give up on me as much as I do, even if he really deserves to these days.
Because that's just it.
This week I met up with a good friend who inspires me to be my best. We are both ridiculously tall (she's taller), blonde (she's blonder), and good looking (she's younger.) Do you see where I'm going here? For no reason at all, I couldn't help but compare myself with her, and suddenly feel in awe of not being more put together, more focused, more on point, like she was.
It inspired me, and it depressed me. It reminded me that I NEED TO PUT MYSELF FIRST! And just because I'm alone at work, THAT'S NOT CONSIDERED "YOURSELF FIRST" if you're just working, or banking, or erranding. Do you want that better body? Well the "YOU FIRST" is carving out time for the gym. It's taking out to time eat a healthy lunch, and snack regularly, instead of skipping that time to finish a project and resorting to chocolate eggs and chicken flavoured crackers, that is not balanced! Good job penciling it into the diary, bad job showing up to even one of these 'Me' appointments this month. Bad.
Which means I started beating myself up, and snowballing it all into how I have nothing to wear, and don't have nice clothes, and am not in ideal shape, want to lose a few kilos, and don't pamper myself well enough to maintain, because all of that costs money, and I should be saving.
So here we are. Sick with a cold, yet ambitiously trying to read before bed to make the most of a sober night. And low and behold, the easy one was an article that surely my mother had given me from a church. I skim it quickly to tick it off the list that it has been read, I therefore won't go to hell, and it can get recycled tomorrow.
Do you know why we didn't celebrate Easter today? Why my two year old thinks it's just another Sunday? Because I didn't remember what I was supposed to tell him. So what of the bunnies and the chocolates, that's yet another excuse of sugar load that I didn't want to get into on my day off, alone, and sick. I vaguely remembered it's because...I was about to say Jesus was born, but as I type I realise he was born at Christmas wasn't he. So this is when Jesus died... this ruins my whole (overly long) story. Could this have been around the time he was originally conceived? Hence the eggs? To symbolise new life?
WOW, I'm in a deep hole of Easter bunny shit here aren't I.
It doesn't matter. What matters is, that I'll thank myself for writing all of this down since I'll read it fresh one day as if it never happened. What matters is, the article I read last night, it talked about God leading us on this journey, and how daunting it can be to not always know the way; to trust with blind faith.
Then it spoke about how we ALL journey together, all the time, we're on the same road, trying to find the same sense of self and life purpose. And finally it spoke about Mercy.
Mercy is a word I don't use, or understand, enough. The Latin for mercy is misericordia which means a compassionate heart. This was my aha.
"The Bible sees mercy as like the love a mother has for her child. A mother loves her child unconditionally. She sees the child just as she or he is. A mother sees all that's weak or wrong in her child, but she sees much more. Whatever is weak or wrong is surpassed infinitely by the mother's love for her child, the one she bore in her womb.
Mercy is a vision of possibility. It sees that much more is possible. In that sense, mercy is the mother of hope. The time of Advent, then, prepares not just for the birth of a child who is God-with-us. It also prepares for the birth of mercy which is also the birth of hope.
...
If we're all talk and no action, then we may feel pangs - but they'll be the pangs of death not the pangs of birth. Advent is about the pangs of birth, which are as physical as the Incarnation when the Word took flesh. The real God is very physical. My hope is that this Advent and our journey through the Year of Mercy will be just as physical, just as real, as we travel the road together."
--Archbishop of Brisbane
First Sunday of Advent 2015
Then I kept my eyes open long enough to read part of a short book Seven Secrets for Feeling Fantastic. It was another relatively religious book, totally not my thing (I'm sorry, God) but it also spoke to the psychology and neurological makeup of how and why our brain makes us feel.
I was so tired, but it felt good to read, and refresh my mind that some of my feelings aren't for me to control. But some surely are. And some just start with the basics, like posture.
In part of my self abuse beat up phase yesterday, I had grimaced that my neck is so fat. And that's why I can't wear short necklaces. But in perfect timing as only a good sign can, this book reminded me that our posture has a lot to do with happiness. And God damn, it was right. Go look in the mirror right now. Lift your head, as in elongate your neck. Did you see that? You can't lift your neck without your chest rising too. All we do is slouch, and then we wonder why we're depressed. We're emulating a negative emotion! By holding my head high, I feel more confident, more positive, and holy shit my neck is thinner!
These are so obvious they're stupid. But so is my son handing me a pair of scissors this morning, and then crumpling my freshly read Advent article into a ball this afternoon. The obvious is to cut those bits onto my vision board to keep me mindful to be merciful. And to keep reading. And writing. And for whatever Easter may really represent, let it symbolize a new beginning. For me.
Happy new start. Thank you, God.
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