in conclusion

On Monday I went to Bern for the closing service of the spiritual exercises. With 500 of my closest friends! Just kidding: of course I knew next to no one, and that was awkward and depressing as usual. But I don’t regret making the trip, if for no other reason than, how cool is it to sing hymns in a full church? That just doesn’t happen much any more, around here at least.

It felt like a bittersweet end. Sweet because, I did it! Yesterday I looked back over the book of exercises and truly there has been a lot of meditating going on in the last six months: lots of deep thoughts, lots of questions, even some insights. Bitter because I hoped I’d come out of this time with some more certainty, a concrete plan for the future. But that wasn't to be, and I only feel more lost than ever. Alice-in-Wonderland style:

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.
“I don't much care where—“ said Alice.
“Then it doesn't matter which way you go,” said the Cat.
“—so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.
“Oh, you're sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

That quote, incidentally, was one of the two I chose for my high school yearbook. I’ve been walking a long time. I'm tired. Probably there is no ‘there’. And ‘here’ feels rather desperate: midlife existential angst, ongoing lack of community, decision paralysis about the church path (and if not that then what?)…and did I mention it’s hot? (Menopause? Climate change? Why not both?) I feel like a lab rat stuck in a maze.

AND.

Even if I’m still lost, I’ve got at least one new tool for the journey. In this practice I gained a lot more faith in my own ability to go inside myself, to go deep, to feel my own truth. And it turns out that I know things! Deep down I can look at the maze close up, and I can see that it is largely a structure of my own making, but not in a bad way: the convictions and doubts and self-protective strategies that keep me penned in are real, and they are non-trivial, and they are worth engaging with. In the likely event that I can’t make it out of here alive, maybe at least I can get to know the place and make a home here.

The message I’m taking for now is: slow down and show up. Slow down in the sense of: I hereby resolve not to rush on to the next class, the next podcast, the next book without digesting the one I just finished. This is gonna be tough but I’m going to give it a solid try. Show up in the sense of: I will risk taking this sprawling conversation I'm having with myself into the world, if only by committing to writing a post on my lost little blog about that class or podcast or book. Even if no one reads it. Because writing is thinking, and both writing and thinking are gifts I have, gifts I should not keep to myself - not because they’re going to change the world but because if I hold them in I might explode. Or implode.

A couple days ago I had a moment where I could feel, to my great relief, my absolute insignificance. The universe is so much bigger than you are, Susannah, so get over yourself and just BE. Do it, don’t do it, whatever - but stop worrying about it.

So, okay.

In other news: the Ice Hockey World Championship is basically in our backyard?! Daniel and I took a long walk out the Fan Zone, a rather forsaken set of promotional tents and food stalls with a big tent for public viewing. It was sparsely patronized, maybe because of the heat but also I feel like they were prepared for many more hockey fans than actually made the journey? Or maybe they'll be here for the finals this weekend. [Exciting update: they were! On Saturday and Sunday, the Fan Zone was indeed so full that the federal rail system posted a notice for Altstetten station that no more visitors could be admitted.]