Oh, the joys of having the house to myself for the day!
My four roommates are all at Orientation--two of them are volunteering as returning students, and two of them are attending as new students.
I used this opportunity to do some cleaning, wiping down countertops and stove tops and doing some bathroom cleaning. There is something quite cathartic about getting on one's hands and knees to scrub a bathtub and clean a dirty floor.
It will all get dirty and messy again, but it did my soul good to take care of the spaces that I (and my roommates) inhabit. If only cleaning one's heart were so easy.
My weekend was jam-packed. Orientation all day Saturday for the Institute of Sacred Music, where I met tons of interesting people and felt incredibly privileged to be invited to a community of scholars of the sacred and the arts. The Professors in the ISM are wonderful, and I gleaned so much just from the cursory introductions.
On Sunday I attended 3 separate church services--making up, I suppose, for 3 Sundays in August when I traveled to and in California.
I've also had meetings for my new Community Life Coordinator job, and those will continue onwards until graduation.
I have bitten off way more than I can chew for a year's worth of work and community involvement, and I have no idea how I will do this. I keep turning to the hope of finding rest in Sabbath, whether that involves scrubbing bathtubs in an empty house...or fleeing to Nature when the weather cools.
School has not even started yet, and already I am looking forward to being done with it next spring =)
Monday, August 31, 2015
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Returning, Part Two
I'm back in New Haven, and I've hit the ground running.
It was so hard to board the plane in Los Angeles--California was just so nice and I didn't want vacation to end. I prayed my way through the hours in the air, and by the time I landed on the East Coast, I felt like my heart was finally in a place to look forward to the new school year.
Once I got going my first day back, I was right back into the swing of things. The switch flipped from "off" to "on"!
I knew I needed to see a few individuals--those that I've connected with spiritually and through prayer--as soon as I got back, and thankfully, I did! Their fellowship and prayers over me have helped me feel strengthened and ready to face my upcoming schedule.
It's been wonderful to bump into other members of my community here at YDS, too. I'm ready to challenge and be challenged, and to both give and receive. There are good things in store for this year, and I want to be a part of whatever change and growth is coming our way!
It was so hard to board the plane in Los Angeles--California was just so nice and I didn't want vacation to end. I prayed my way through the hours in the air, and by the time I landed on the East Coast, I felt like my heart was finally in a place to look forward to the new school year.
Once I got going my first day back, I was right back into the swing of things. The switch flipped from "off" to "on"!
I knew I needed to see a few individuals--those that I've connected with spiritually and through prayer--as soon as I got back, and thankfully, I did! Their fellowship and prayers over me have helped me feel strengthened and ready to face my upcoming schedule.
It's been wonderful to bump into other members of my community here at YDS, too. I'm ready to challenge and be challenged, and to both give and receive. There are good things in store for this year, and I want to be a part of whatever change and growth is coming our way!
Monday, August 24, 2015
Reconnecting
This is the first time in my life that I have so many friends who are younger than me in age. Ever since I was a girl, friends have either been around my age or older. The year I turned 25, I hung out quite frequently with some friends who were up to 15 years my senior. I was constantly absorbing life lessons from my friends.
Now, I'm living with housemates who finished high school the year I got my master's degree. Oh my!
Back in California--or elsewhere in the world outside of New Haven--friends are having babies and buying homes, adjusting to married life and getting job promotions. Because I'm a student, it sometimes feels like time stands still, and age doesn't matter. What matters more than life experience in the academic context is often the ability to have and articulate ideas, to reason and to feel--and not necessarily to do. The rubber doesn't hit the road the same way in school, and it is certainly a privilege to be suspended in a space of exploration and reflection--without immediate real-world consequences.
I've learned so much from my young friends at YDS. They are much brighter and more confident than I was at their age. They seem to be less handicapped by certain things in American culture that seemed inescapable when I was growing up in the '80s and '90s. Their futures are bright, and they have the privilege at being in Divinity School at an Ivy League before they've even hit a Quarter Century. This makes it exciting to be a student again--my world has expanded by being in close contact with younger souls.
It's nice, though, to come home to old friends, many of whom also happen to be older. These past few weeks have been a nice counterbalance to my past year. There is something so comforting about conversing with friends with whom one has history. Whenever I come back to LA, I know there are friends welcoming me with open arms. It isn't hard to reconnect and be refreshed by their presence. And for that, I am grateful.
Now, I'm living with housemates who finished high school the year I got my master's degree. Oh my!
Back in California--or elsewhere in the world outside of New Haven--friends are having babies and buying homes, adjusting to married life and getting job promotions. Because I'm a student, it sometimes feels like time stands still, and age doesn't matter. What matters more than life experience in the academic context is often the ability to have and articulate ideas, to reason and to feel--and not necessarily to do. The rubber doesn't hit the road the same way in school, and it is certainly a privilege to be suspended in a space of exploration and reflection--without immediate real-world consequences.
I've learned so much from my young friends at YDS. They are much brighter and more confident than I was at their age. They seem to be less handicapped by certain things in American culture that seemed inescapable when I was growing up in the '80s and '90s. Their futures are bright, and they have the privilege at being in Divinity School at an Ivy League before they've even hit a Quarter Century. This makes it exciting to be a student again--my world has expanded by being in close contact with younger souls.
It's nice, though, to come home to old friends, many of whom also happen to be older. These past few weeks have been a nice counterbalance to my past year. There is something so comforting about conversing with friends with whom one has history. Whenever I come back to LA, I know there are friends welcoming me with open arms. It isn't hard to reconnect and be refreshed by their presence. And for that, I am grateful.
 |
| An old Girl Scouts song sums it up perfectly! |
Returning
It feels like for years, I've been a part of conversations where I don't agree with what's said. I tend to hold off on disagreeing with even good friends, because I only speak when I think that someone will actually listen or be convinced. I value my relationships over satisfying the need to speak my mind.
Somehow, I've reached a point where I think that is going to change. Perhaps this year, I will either say something, or I will leave the conversation (if it's happening in a group) so as not to be drained. Especially because I know my schedule will be busier, and I want to "number my days," so to speak.
I understand that people like to congregate with others who think similarly in order to find camaraderie and feel supported. But when people stay in their comfort zones, they miss out on opportunities to be stretched and challenged. I always feel stifled when I constantly hang out with the same crowd.
It's taken nearly my entire time in California to get New Haven out of my system. Yesterday afternoon, on the ferry from Catalina Island back to the Coast, I finally felt like I had wiped the slate clean. Like I've said before, I had a wonderful first year and summer at Yale. I really could not have asked for a better experience! But the Old Wine has to be poured out before the New Wine can come. Not only that, but New Wine can only come in New Wineskins. I'm ready for this year to be completely different than last year!
At this point, I have no idea what my schedule will look like. I won't know what my classes will be until I "shop" around (this happens during the first two weeks of school.) I won't know how frequently and what days I will have meetings for Community Life Coordinator stuff. I don't know what evenings my church homegroup will meet, and I haven't decided if I'll play soccer again. What I do know is that I would like to commit to keeping a weekly Sabbath.
A good friend--we call him "kind-eyes Jonathan" at the Div School--modeled this for me last year. He took a day off each week to just be. To read non-academic stuff, go hiking, visit the Art Gallery...
I'm looking forward to keeping my Sabbath this year!
Somehow, I've reached a point where I think that is going to change. Perhaps this year, I will either say something, or I will leave the conversation (if it's happening in a group) so as not to be drained. Especially because I know my schedule will be busier, and I want to "number my days," so to speak.
I understand that people like to congregate with others who think similarly in order to find camaraderie and feel supported. But when people stay in their comfort zones, they miss out on opportunities to be stretched and challenged. I always feel stifled when I constantly hang out with the same crowd.
It's taken nearly my entire time in California to get New Haven out of my system. Yesterday afternoon, on the ferry from Catalina Island back to the Coast, I finally felt like I had wiped the slate clean. Like I've said before, I had a wonderful first year and summer at Yale. I really could not have asked for a better experience! But the Old Wine has to be poured out before the New Wine can come. Not only that, but New Wine can only come in New Wineskins. I'm ready for this year to be completely different than last year!
At this point, I have no idea what my schedule will look like. I won't know what my classes will be until I "shop" around (this happens during the first two weeks of school.) I won't know how frequently and what days I will have meetings for Community Life Coordinator stuff. I don't know what evenings my church homegroup will meet, and I haven't decided if I'll play soccer again. What I do know is that I would like to commit to keeping a weekly Sabbath.
A good friend--we call him "kind-eyes Jonathan" at the Div School--modeled this for me last year. He took a day off each week to just be. To read non-academic stuff, go hiking, visit the Art Gallery...
I'm looking forward to keeping my Sabbath this year!
Thursday, August 20, 2015
R&R
The Central Coast of California will forever be engraved in my memory. Golden sun glinting from the blue ocean waves; fog gently shrouding the rolling hills of cattle and Live Oak trees; and the highway, wending itself through the undulating landscape that soothes the eye and frees the soul.
I've traveled along the Coast several times--as a child, with my whole family in our Volvo Stationwagon; as a college student, roadtripping from LA to NorCal with friends; and this past week, on vacation with my parents. On the Central Coast, life seems simpler, calmer, and more connected with land and sea. Residents have perpetual tans and sunburns, and bumper stickers indicate a more liberal bent. Restaurants welcome dogs, and otters, dolphins, seals, sea lions, and whales inhabit the waters beyond the beaches. Wildlife sightings made the drives worthwhile, and I will never forget seeing a Humpback Whale leap out of the water.
I would live here if I could, I often think to myself. Except I can't. There is too much to do in other places.
In exactly one week, I fly back to Connecticut, and I don't want to go.
California has been exactly what I needed. First, I had a week-long Staycation at home, hermiting as much as I could, working on a few New-Haven-related assignments, and keeping communication with friends minimal. I saw a friend with whom I've shared memorable hikes, including a long trek down Yosemite's Half Dome in the dark. I met up with an old high school buddy--he drove from his residency in LA to meet me locally--who knows me better than most people in my life. A wonderful spiritual sister, with whom I Skype regularly, came over to chat face-to-face in person, for once, and I came away as I always do with her--refreshed and encouraged. I had lunch with two friends who knew each other apart from knowing me. I met one in 8th grade and the other just a few years ago, but they went to high school together. That was fun.
Then, four days of Vacation with my folks.
This next week, I should start gearing up for the return to school. I've got plenty of friends to see in the coming days, averaging 2 appointments each day. My family--this time including my brother--will take another trip over the weekend. And I have got several things to prepare (mentally and practically) before next Thursday arrives. And then--Ready or not, here it comes!
I had a wonderful first year at Yale Divinity School, and I think that's why I don't want to return. I poured out every inch of myself to those around me, and I don't feel like I can do it again. It was a good run, I feel, and I'm ready to move on to other things.
I suppose one more year in school will give me direction on my future and continue to grow and shape my leadership skills. It's going to be challenging and busy, and that's what I fear. For now, I will enjoy the comforts of home for a few days more, knowing that even when I do enter my stressful schedule again, I can always return to the image of my beloved California Coast, and find refuge and rejuvenation from those memories.
I've traveled along the Coast several times--as a child, with my whole family in our Volvo Stationwagon; as a college student, roadtripping from LA to NorCal with friends; and this past week, on vacation with my parents. On the Central Coast, life seems simpler, calmer, and more connected with land and sea. Residents have perpetual tans and sunburns, and bumper stickers indicate a more liberal bent. Restaurants welcome dogs, and otters, dolphins, seals, sea lions, and whales inhabit the waters beyond the beaches. Wildlife sightings made the drives worthwhile, and I will never forget seeing a Humpback Whale leap out of the water.
I would live here if I could, I often think to myself. Except I can't. There is too much to do in other places.
In exactly one week, I fly back to Connecticut, and I don't want to go.
California has been exactly what I needed. First, I had a week-long Staycation at home, hermiting as much as I could, working on a few New-Haven-related assignments, and keeping communication with friends minimal. I saw a friend with whom I've shared memorable hikes, including a long trek down Yosemite's Half Dome in the dark. I met up with an old high school buddy--he drove from his residency in LA to meet me locally--who knows me better than most people in my life. A wonderful spiritual sister, with whom I Skype regularly, came over to chat face-to-face in person, for once, and I came away as I always do with her--refreshed and encouraged. I had lunch with two friends who knew each other apart from knowing me. I met one in 8th grade and the other just a few years ago, but they went to high school together. That was fun.
Then, four days of Vacation with my folks.
This next week, I should start gearing up for the return to school. I've got plenty of friends to see in the coming days, averaging 2 appointments each day. My family--this time including my brother--will take another trip over the weekend. And I have got several things to prepare (mentally and practically) before next Thursday arrives. And then--Ready or not, here it comes!
I had a wonderful first year at Yale Divinity School, and I think that's why I don't want to return. I poured out every inch of myself to those around me, and I don't feel like I can do it again. It was a good run, I feel, and I'm ready to move on to other things.
I suppose one more year in school will give me direction on my future and continue to grow and shape my leadership skills. It's going to be challenging and busy, and that's what I fear. For now, I will enjoy the comforts of home for a few days more, knowing that even when I do enter my stressful schedule again, I can always return to the image of my beloved California Coast, and find refuge and rejuvenation from those memories.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Reflection
I know a person who was asked to contribute her narrative to a Diversity Panel at at predominantly black-and-white, liberal seminary. This is what she wrote:
Growing up as an Asian born in America, I often felt unqualified to talk about race or discrimination—at least as it applied to me. Asians were seen as the “model minority,” which de-legitimized any complaints against white power, because “at least we weren’t black.” So whenever I witnessed micro-aggressions occur against my parents (who received graduate education in the U.S. but still have slight accents when speaking English), I tended to repress any feelings of negativity. When friends raised eyebrows over food I brought to school for lunch or commented on the smell, I always felt apologetic rather than proud of my culinary heritage. Knowing that immigrants were stereotyped as loud, tardy, and lacking self-awareness, I learned to be quiet, punctual, and very friendly-yet-self-conscious around white folks. My personal goal for the longest time was to become more acculturated than other Asian Americans.
And yet I held steadfastly to certain immigrant values. Like many of my Asian friends, I opted to living at home right out of college in order to cut rent costs and save up for the future. This was seen as “something that only losers do” among my white friends—at least in the years before the Wall Street crash. Now I can proudly say that because of lifestyle decisions, I have never had to take out a loan, and my living costs at YDS have come entirely from savings!
I have not been unaware of systemic racial discrimination against Asian Americans—my hometown is the site of a WWII Japanese Internment Camp, and I studied immigration policies against Asians in college—but I can’t say that I became passionate about making changes to the problems of race in America until I started nearing 30. After all, the vestiges of “Yellow Fever” in America made my position as an Asian female somewhat privileged in society, even if twistedly so, and I tended to fare much better than my male counterparts during social interactions with white folks. For example, I grew up watching my brother get bullied and called racial slurs because he was the only Asian kid on his sports team or in his friend group. I, on the other hand, was often complimented on my appearance, even if—or rather because—I looked different from my white female friends. I experienced a strangely flattering sort of “othering” that I only later—when feminist sensibilities took over—began repulse.
Many of my Asian-American female friends longed to marry white men, because that was a way to climb the social ladder—not to mention create “beautiful mixed children.” My Asian-American male friends complained that all the girls were “taken by white guys,” and any Asian male who could date a white girl was seen as competent and a victorious counter-narrative to the typical white-guy-Asian-girl pairing. A college dorm conversation is still seared in my memory: being a tomboy, I was hanging out with a (racially diverse) bunch of guy friends one day, and some of the Caucasians began to talk about how pretty Asian girls were and how they made racial diversity such a good thing. Some of the Asian guys then asked, “What are Asian guys good for?” The reply: “You give us Asian girls”—the only time I have ever heard of men being valued solely for their procreative powers!
Here at YDS, we like to emphasize the importance of not claiming to speak for one’s entire race or gender—we are individualistic to a fault. Out of respect for this social code, I’m not going to speak for all Asians in America, but I will end with two quotes from conversational interviews I’ve had with people of Asian descendent who live in America.
On cultural barriers to performing well in the classroom:
“Asians are trained to respect their elders and to be humble, so it’s very hard to speak on equal terms with a professor and to voluntarily share in class what we know. Even if we did all the reading and have many thoughts, we don’t share it because that feels like boasting.”
On feeling lost and unimportant within a black/white binary:
“It often feels unacceptable to talk about our experiences with race, because supposedly we have it so much better than other people of color in America. This means that Asian Americans perpetually don’t have a voice, and our opinions don’t matter.”
Well, given that Asians have been the fastest growing demographic in America since 2010 [1], I’d say that our opinions do matter, and that we had better start speaking up!
[1] See http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2014/06/26/u-s-hispanic-and-asian-populations-growing-but-for-different-reasons/.
Growing up as an Asian born in America, I often felt unqualified to talk about race or discrimination—at least as it applied to me. Asians were seen as the “model minority,” which de-legitimized any complaints against white power, because “at least we weren’t black.” So whenever I witnessed micro-aggressions occur against my parents (who received graduate education in the U.S. but still have slight accents when speaking English), I tended to repress any feelings of negativity. When friends raised eyebrows over food I brought to school for lunch or commented on the smell, I always felt apologetic rather than proud of my culinary heritage. Knowing that immigrants were stereotyped as loud, tardy, and lacking self-awareness, I learned to be quiet, punctual, and very friendly-yet-self-conscious around white folks. My personal goal for the longest time was to become more acculturated than other Asian Americans.
And yet I held steadfastly to certain immigrant values. Like many of my Asian friends, I opted to living at home right out of college in order to cut rent costs and save up for the future. This was seen as “something that only losers do” among my white friends—at least in the years before the Wall Street crash. Now I can proudly say that because of lifestyle decisions, I have never had to take out a loan, and my living costs at YDS have come entirely from savings!
I have not been unaware of systemic racial discrimination against Asian Americans—my hometown is the site of a WWII Japanese Internment Camp, and I studied immigration policies against Asians in college—but I can’t say that I became passionate about making changes to the problems of race in America until I started nearing 30. After all, the vestiges of “Yellow Fever” in America made my position as an Asian female somewhat privileged in society, even if twistedly so, and I tended to fare much better than my male counterparts during social interactions with white folks. For example, I grew up watching my brother get bullied and called racial slurs because he was the only Asian kid on his sports team or in his friend group. I, on the other hand, was often complimented on my appearance, even if—or rather because—I looked different from my white female friends. I experienced a strangely flattering sort of “othering” that I only later—when feminist sensibilities took over—began repulse.
Many of my Asian-American female friends longed to marry white men, because that was a way to climb the social ladder—not to mention create “beautiful mixed children.” My Asian-American male friends complained that all the girls were “taken by white guys,” and any Asian male who could date a white girl was seen as competent and a victorious counter-narrative to the typical white-guy-Asian-girl pairing. A college dorm conversation is still seared in my memory: being a tomboy, I was hanging out with a (racially diverse) bunch of guy friends one day, and some of the Caucasians began to talk about how pretty Asian girls were and how they made racial diversity such a good thing. Some of the Asian guys then asked, “What are Asian guys good for?” The reply: “You give us Asian girls”—the only time I have ever heard of men being valued solely for their procreative powers!
Here at YDS, we like to emphasize the importance of not claiming to speak for one’s entire race or gender—we are individualistic to a fault. Out of respect for this social code, I’m not going to speak for all Asians in America, but I will end with two quotes from conversational interviews I’ve had with people of Asian descendent who live in America.
On cultural barriers to performing well in the classroom:
“Asians are trained to respect their elders and to be humble, so it’s very hard to speak on equal terms with a professor and to voluntarily share in class what we know. Even if we did all the reading and have many thoughts, we don’t share it because that feels like boasting.”
On feeling lost and unimportant within a black/white binary:
“It often feels unacceptable to talk about our experiences with race, because supposedly we have it so much better than other people of color in America. This means that Asian Americans perpetually don’t have a voice, and our opinions don’t matter.”
Well, given that Asians have been the fastest growing demographic in America since 2010 [1], I’d say that our opinions do matter, and that we had better start speaking up!
[1] See http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2014/06/26/u-s-hispanic-and-asian-populations-growing-but-for-different-reasons/.
Monday, August 10, 2015
Recovery
My, am I exhausted!
I'm home now. Home to rest and recover before a busy Fall begins next month.
I don't feel like going back to school and taking classes again. I don't feel like seeing everyone again. I have been drained and need to recharge before I can be excited for Year Two at Yale Divinity School.
My fellowship ended well. It was sad to leave the Boys & Girls Club of New Haven.
Summer subletting also came to an end, and there was a party and some snacks and dancing at our house to send off our two housemates.
A very good friend visited from Kenya. I showed her as much of New Haven as I could, and over the weekend we ran ourselves ragged for 24 hours in New York City! The next day, I attended a Roaring 20s Lawn Party on a large estate in Ipswich, MA. And then my body protested over lack of sleep and got sick.
I took time to bond with my housemate (the one who didn't move out). We visited Mystic, CT, Newport, RI, and local West Haven beaches.
I had a wonderfully refreshing conversation with a sister with whom spiritual connection is strong.
The day before I flew home, I hung out and had lunch at the home of my home group leaders, whose children I teach violin.
Good things happened in New Haven, and that's probably why I'm exhausted.
I'm going into stealth mode for a few days in LA before letting friends know I'm back. Because then, there will be plenty of social engagements again, and that's what I need to refrain from for now. I need rest, and I need silence. I need to not be there for a job or a person, and I need to sleep.
Perhaps after I've recovered, I will be interested in people again, in things they have to say and things they are going through. But for now, may the world forget that I exist. May silence soothe my soul, and my sleep heal my body.
I'm home now. Home to rest and recover before a busy Fall begins next month.
I don't feel like going back to school and taking classes again. I don't feel like seeing everyone again. I have been drained and need to recharge before I can be excited for Year Two at Yale Divinity School.
My fellowship ended well. It was sad to leave the Boys & Girls Club of New Haven.
Summer subletting also came to an end, and there was a party and some snacks and dancing at our house to send off our two housemates.
A very good friend visited from Kenya. I showed her as much of New Haven as I could, and over the weekend we ran ourselves ragged for 24 hours in New York City! The next day, I attended a Roaring 20s Lawn Party on a large estate in Ipswich, MA. And then my body protested over lack of sleep and got sick.
I took time to bond with my housemate (the one who didn't move out). We visited Mystic, CT, Newport, RI, and local West Haven beaches.
I had a wonderfully refreshing conversation with a sister with whom spiritual connection is strong.
The day before I flew home, I hung out and had lunch at the home of my home group leaders, whose children I teach violin.
Good things happened in New Haven, and that's probably why I'm exhausted.
I'm going into stealth mode for a few days in LA before letting friends know I'm back. Because then, there will be plenty of social engagements again, and that's what I need to refrain from for now. I need rest, and I need silence. I need to not be there for a job or a person, and I need to sleep.
Perhaps after I've recovered, I will be interested in people again, in things they have to say and things they are going through. But for now, may the world forget that I exist. May silence soothe my soul, and my sleep heal my body.
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