🌊The One that Doesn't Have a Blog Title 🌊

I am very excited about being able to write a blog post since I am in seminary and I don't know the next chance I will have to write another blog post! Yet at the same time, I’m nervous because I don’t know how to articulate my feelings and I’m afraid that it will send me on the down spiral of an emotional headache because I’m overanalyzing my feelings (which I am infamously known to do.) I thought I knew what I was going to say, but BOOM! An experience like lighting happens, I know that I must blog about that.

I guess that experience doesn't make since unless I give some background information. For the last two weeks I have been in a class called, “Transformative Seminary Education,” TSE for short. I use the term “class” very loosely, because while I do get credit for it, TSE is more of a bonding experience for the incoming cohort. In fact, now that TSE is over, we still have about a week before we officially start our fall classes with the rest of the seminary. When asked about TSE, I would say imagine a two week long orientation with your incoming cohort in a pass fail class that teaches you how to think theologically, then you’re in the right ball park for what TSE is. I wouldn't say TSE was as emotional as YAV orientation (blog here http://throughtheyesofayav.blogspot.com/2016/08/), but there was a lot of internal emotions that I had to work through.

I’m not going to spill my heart on the Internet, but to be honest; I’m still processing those emotions in order to find the right words to describe how I feel (although life is a never ending journey of just finding the right words to process how we feel). In my rough drafts for my blog, I tried to write about the internal struggle I’ve been processing, but I didn’t like how it was coming out. It sounded like a bunch of hublah in which I was comparing my YAV community to my seminary community, which isn’t fair to anyone. Even though it is not fair for me to compare social circles, I think it is only natural after coming straight out of an emotionally, spiritually, and physically intense YAV year in LA. As juvenile as it sounds, I was placing expectations on my cohort based off of my experience as a YAV. These expectations existed because of the overlapping between the seminary and the YAV program; a lot of YAVAs go to seminary I attend. But more importantly, the expectations I had were there because I wanted my cohort to make up for the experiences I didn't get in LA; experiences that I should have gotten, experiences that I grieved over while I was in California.

In a way, I thought that if the seminary I attend and the YAV program has similar values, then my experiences at seminary should cover up the experiences I had while in LA. Looking back, I realize that I don’t necessarily want one life event to cover another life event like a band aid, because then it implies that that there are scars that need to be covered. Maybe I have scars, maybe I don’t; regardless of if these scars exist or not, I have to wonder “is it worth it?” Is it worth it told hold onto the feelings I navigated through in LA? Is it worth it to transfer those feelings onto my cohort? Is it worth it to expect Louisville to cover up the damages of the DOOR program? I am more than the experiences I had as a Dweller in LA, and I am more than the experiences I’m going to have in Louisville. I am not defined by the experiences I have, but rather by how I respond to those experiences. Plus, not all the experiences I had in LA were bad, and I shouldn't expect all the experiences I’m going to have in Louisville are going to be good ones to cover up the bad ones. They were/are two different beautiful periods of my life; I should not compare the two because then I am taking away the beauty that they are. How can I even compare the two? I was in a different place spiritual and emotionally when I left for California and when I came back from California. I don't want to pretend Louisville will “fix” the damages done in LA because I don’t want to play the victim. My YAV year is not defined by the structural damages of DOOR LA.

I am grateful for the friends I made during TSE who are also YAVAs (YAV alumni); by being with them I was able to reconcile these inward emotions (as well as several others that shall go unnamed.) One thing I realized is that I can’t force TSE, or my cohort, or even my YAV experience to be something that it is not. I like to think that life, in and of it’s self, is a spiritual sea. The spiritual sea that lives inside us is a beautiful place but we must never force it to be something that it’s not. If we do, then we are taking away the exact thing that makes our spiritual sea so beautiful. A spiritual sea can be interpreted in many different heart languages, and I was reminded of the beauty of mine when our cohort participated in a thread ceremony for the benediction of a worship service as one of our classmates’ final project. The beautiful soul that lead our cohort through the thread ceremony told me that this was her adaption from the thread ceremony commonly found in the Universal Unitarian tradition.

The beauty of the adaption to the thread ceremony was so meaningful and spirit-filled, that I cannot describe it in words. As cliché as it sounds, it’s one of those things were you have to be there to understand and empathize with the experience I am describing. For the benediction of their project, she asked us to gather around in a circle, and the Christian in me automatically assumed that we were going to join hands (I wasn't the only one under this assumption, it’s the very Christian thing to do.) Instead she invited us to wrap yarn around our wrist three times then pass the ball of yarn to the next person.  Words of wisdom came from her tongue as the ball of yarn was passed around the circle. It was a reminder that we are all connected. Once the last person was done wrapping their wrist with the yarn, she then called us to join hands. We didn't join hands as fellow Christ followers (cause some of us identified with other faith traditions) but we joined hands as fellow brothers and sisters of this Earth. We weren’t having an experience to remind us that we are all connected, but we were having an experience that we are all called into solidarity with each other. At the end of the solidarity circle (it’s technically not called that but it’s the word the speaks to my heart language) scissors were passed around and we were invited to tie the two ends together around a wrist to form a bracelet that reminded us that we are all connected together, yet individual at the same time.

According to my fellow cohort, this is traditionally done in the Universal Unitarian faith as a reminder we are all individual creatures, and we should honor that individuality. Yet at the same time we are all connected and we need to honor that as well. A greater force was among us in the room and was a reminder of me to what community is; something that I shouldn't force or place expectations on, but something that is just is. The solidarity circle was a reminder to step out of my spiritual sea, and into other’s spiritual sea. By entering others spiritual sea, we are truly able to see people for who they really are. There is a time for entering my spiritual sea, but if I stay in it for too long then I will miss the beauty of what is around me. Just like if I force my spiritual sea to be something it’s not, then I will miss the beauty of what it. If I forced my cohort to be something it’s not, I would have missed the beauty of the thread ceremony; the beauty that connects us all to the same community.

I loved the thread ceremony, to me it was not just a practice done in the Universal Unitarian tradition, but also a solidarity circle and a prayer. I didn't force it to be anything, but just let it be, which is when the Divine spirit intervened. I didn't bring prior expectations into the circle. I didn’t compare anything to LA. I let LA be LA, and this experience be this experience. What I did feel, however, when I was in the circle was to live in solidarity with my brothers and sisters of Earth. After all, a beautiful part of our humanity is living presently among our human family with no expectations or judgment. A beautiful thing, that on more than one occasion, goes against our human nature. But I believe there is a spiritual beauty when we are able to see pass our human nature in order to live in solidarity with each other.