They Linger in Closets and Under My Bed

It's almost the end of the year! Well, almost the end of the Baha'i year. Right now it's the last few days of Ayyam-i-Ha, then just 19 more days after that is Naw Ruz, the new year. Year 177 in the Baha'i calendar! And so I find myself in a very reflective mood.

So much has changed this year. Heck, so much has changed in my life in the past few months. I have more stability in some ways, less in others. Things I thought were going to be wonderful things that brought good to my family haven't, and things I didn't think would work out have worked out in ways I'd never expected. 

Right now, though, I have to be patient. I have to wait for a lot of things that are completely out of my control to come to fruition, and the world being dark and full of cold and snow isn't helping much. I know spring's gonna come someday, because it's never not come, but right now, things feel...more impossible and hard to sit with than I wanted them to be. I've talked before about the power of sitting with someone in the quiet spaces, and how it's okay to not have all the answers, but this time, it's a little different.

You see, we're heading into the Baha'i Fast. The last month of the Baha'i calendar is a time of fasting (abstaining from food or drink from sunrise to sunset, if you are able - no putting yourself in danger if medical stuff prevents you, or if you are elderly or very young or travelling), and also a time of prayer and comtemplation - reflecting on the year that's past, disconnecting from our material self and focusing on our spiritual selves. So...sitting in the quiet spaces is almost expected to happen during the Fast, as we sit with ourselves and with each other. 

It's not about punishment, it's not about atonement or absolution, it's about letting go of the world and sinking deeper into our relationship with God. As Abdu'l-Baha wrote, "this material fast is an outer token of the spiritual fast; it is a symbol of self-restraint, the withholding of oneself from all appetites of the self, taking on the characteristics of the spirit, being carried away by the breathings of heaven and catching fire from the love of God". 

For 19 days, it's not about us, our meat-selves and our "idle fancies and vain imaginings". We pause, we reflect, we pray. It's not easy, but its an act of love that requires a lot of patience. So, there's patience layered on patience layered on patience, right now. Patience for the upcoming Fast, patience for my life stuff that's going on in the background, and most of all, patience for myself. I'm not perfect at any of this. In fact...I'm awful at a lot of it. But this year, I'm going to try to sit with myself, in my perfectly imperfectness. I will sit with my joy, with my heartache, with my ardent love for Baha'u'llah,with the things that aren't where I want them to be and the things I don't know yet where they're going.  As Baha'u'llah reminds me in one of my favourite Hidden Words, O SON OF MAN! For everything there is a sign. The sign of love is fortitude under My decree and patience under My trials." (The video below is a sung version of this passage by Rosanna Lea, which is what helped me memorize it a while back.)

We Can Burn Brighter Than The Sun

I keep waiting for the day I feel like a grown up, it feels like. I'm 32, and I keep thinking that at some point, I will wake up and actually feel adult. So far, that hasn't happened. Sure, I make sure the bills are paid, I go to work, all of that, but I also have a lunch bag that can double as a cat puppet, my room is full of plushies of various kinds, and juiceboxes and Goldfish crackers are my go-to comfort foods.

So...what makes you a grownup? Do you have to be grownup all the time? Can we learn anything from the not-grownups in our lives?

I've been working through some of the Junior Youth Empowerment Program books with a friend. They're aimed at people much younger than me, intended to help teach various moral and spiritual values and a general idea of empowerment. They avoid being overtly religious, because that's not really the point - it's not a conversion tool. They're inspired by various Baha'i concepts, but that's really as far as it goes. And yes, they're not *technically* aimed at older youth or adults, but that hasn't stopped me from getting a LOT out of them.

Right now, we're going through one called "Thinking About Numbers". As the title states...it's about math. Like counting and arithmetic math. Math is...not my strong suit, so it's been fun because it has honestly been changing how I, well, think about numbers. We're not very far in, but I can't wait to see what sorts of things I get out of it. But it's not just about the math concepts - all of those concepts are good, and do need to be taught, but the book also frames them in their wider context. It's not just "learn about math because...you have to because school says so", it's "learn these things and how to think about numbers and math concepts as part of also learning how to grow and be a part of your local reality, your community, your world". 

I never liked math in school because after a bit, you stop learning why it's useful, and how it can help you, and it's just "learn these complicated things because someone else decided that this is summarily important for everyone even though you're likely going to forget them and never use them." (I'm looking at you, quadratic equation.) But this...this is different. It reminds me about how so much of my faith is centered around looking at the world and it's problems, refusing to accept that things are just how they are, and working to change it where we can. 

Some of the books (like the first one we looked at, called Breezes of Confirmation), focus more directly on moral/spiritual matters - and I think that's also important too. All of the books are so focused on giving young people agency and learning about self-direction and letting them be an active participant not just in the books and what they're learning from them, but also in their local communities.

I really like this chance to look at these books, because, well, they weren't a part of my youth. I like seeing what sort of things we're trying to help children and teens learn to be fully able to take an active role in their world, and they're also good for me - I am learning so much, just because I am taking time to think about these concepts. I imagine anyone who works through them with junior youth also leans a lot, because you'd see these things through their eyes.

So maybe it's okay I'm not a grownup all the time, and that I still haven't figured out what that looks like. Maybe it means knowing I don't have all the answers, and that I won't, and that it's okay. Maybe it means not dismissing things just because they're aimed at kids, and remembering that learning never really stops.

The Wisest Amongst Us and Fair

The world is bound by a lot of rules. The rules of the road, the rules of the classroom, the rules of common etiquette, there are rules everywhere. Sometimes the rules are easy and they make a lot of sense - they're there for our safety, to protect us and keep us from injury, harm, sickness, or death. Sometimes, they're less obvious, but we're still expected to follow them. We're told so often that rules are there for our own good, even if we don't understand them. There will always be rules you like, and rules you don't; rules you are willing to follow and rules that are dealbreakers for you.

When I mention to people that I'm a Baha'i, if they know anything about the Faith, they usually ask about the rules. (And even if they don't, people generally realize that religion = rules). They ask what they are, or they mention ones they know and ask me how I cope with obeying. (For me, a lot of the time the "no alcohol or other intoxicating things" is the one that people tend to get stuck on.) Why would I choose to be a part of something with rules like that? There's rules about prayers, about how to live, there's whole books on it. The world is full of enough people telling you what to do , why would you willingly listen to one more?

I stumble over this a lot. The no intoxicants one is easy - I've struggled with that sort of thing in the past, so this, to me, is a convenient way to take the temptation out of my own hands. I never made what people might consider "huge mistakes" with anything, but I know I've made some pretty ungood choices in my past when influenced by those substances. So now, it's nice. I can just go "I don't drink because I choose to trust that Baha'u'llah asked me not to for some very good reasons", and it's done. It doesn't matter if you agree with the decision, but I feel better and more okay with sitting with it. It's not about me trying to keep myself away from something that I struggle with (although that's a nice bonus), it's about me trusting that He asked me to do this, so I can keep a clear head and help the world be a better place.

Some of them are trickier. I'm not always great at remembering my prayers, backbiting and gossip are often very, very tempting, but I try. I try because I want to - because when I was seeking, the rules felt manageable, like I could try to do it, and as I've continued to try my very best, I have seen so many ways following Baha'u'llah's rules have helped me be a happier, kinder, safer person. I've been able to do more, and be more, and I've been able to serve my community in ways I'd never ever ever thought I could.

The rules give me structure, and structure makes my brain happy. My brain *likes* knowing what's next. It keeps my anxiety dinosaur from roaring quite so loud, it keeps my brain spiders from skittering around making messes of things. So now, I can go to Feast even though it means more people than I'm technically happy with in terms of crowds and social stuff and small talk. I can make the newsletter, I can speak up during consultation, I can make friends in my community, I can live and breathe and sleep a little easier, because I get to give so much of the hard decisions to someone else. Baha'u'llah's already told me what to do, so I don't have to stress about it. Baha'u'llah said to "Let each morn be better than its eve and each morrow richer than its yesterday", and to me, that just means that hey, every day is a new day where we can do a little more, try a little harder, and make the world a little happier. And His rules help me do that.

Last night I was talking with a dear friend about some stuff in my life, and he reminded me of another quote I like a lot: "Bring thyself to account each day ere thou art summoned to a reckoning" - in context, it's talking about the fact that we are all going to die someday, and will be accountable for the choices we make, but to me, it also is a nice reminder to think about the day I've had. What did I do well? What was good? What did I learn? What would I change the next day? It helps me refocus myself, and to think about how I am using the rules and guidance that Baha'u'llah has given us, for myself, and for the world around me.

The rules are there because I am loved, because He knew what I'd need to be able to be my best self, what humanity would need as it grows and changes. They're not there to put me down, to subjugate us, but to give us hope, and life, and the tools we need to make the world more awesome. They're an audacious ask, a act of care and compassion. They're an act of trust - trust that we will follow His guidance, that we will trust that He knows what we need, even if we don't understand it yet.

So yes, there are rules. Not nearly as many as you think, and it's surprising how many are just natural extensions of trying to be a good person. But they're rules I can sit with, and that's all that matters.

The Old Voice Warning Me

When I like a thing, I tend to...really like it. Almost to the exclusion of everything else. When I was in my Hamilton (the musical, not the city) phase, I read Chernow's book about Hamilton (that was SO LONG), I memorized the whole soundtrack, I followed every Twitter thread and video and anything I could find that was remotely related. I listened to literally almost nothing else for months.

Then...at some point, I stopped. I was done. My brain wandered off to something else, and I haven't really listened to the soundtrack since. I still like it, I want to see the play eventually, but when I had the chance to join people in the random lottery style lineup for tickets for the eventual Toronto debut of it....I didn't really bother. (Saved me a bunch of money, I suppose, I heard tickets weren't cheap.) It's no longer a hyperfocus.

This is how I like things. I get into them, with my whole self for a while, then I'm done. I've done it with numerous craft projects (cross-stitch, crochet, among others), languages (Russian, mostly), I do it with stage plays (Hamilton, RENT, In the Heights (that one's still an active focus)).

When I found the Baha'i Faith...I kinda fell in with both feet. There are a few days around when I declared where I didn't sleep a lot, I was just kinda floating in a lot of reading and a lot of wondering and some very patient friends who let me ask them a lot of questions. I have read (and continue to read) as many books about the Faith I can get my hands on. (Yes, I did read Lights of Guidance cover to cover. It was actually pretty interesting. I learned a lot.)

I hyperfocused, hard. I wanted to know everything all at once. I still do, although I've kinda realized there's more than I'll ever know, or fully understand and that's okay. I read a lot and I tried to be everywhere and do everything and I reached a point right after the Bicentenary in October where my body was like "okay, enough, breathe a little".

So...I've been breathing a little. I still love Baha'u'llah and His message with my whole heart, I still go to Feast when I can and I usually have at least one Baha'i adjacent book in my book rotation (right now, it's Creating a New Mind, by Paul Lample). But maybe I don't go to every single devotional that's within reasonable transit distance, maybe I let myself read a few more romance novels before tackling more Adib Taherzadeh.

It's hard not to feel guilty. I keep hearing the voice in the back of my head that tells me that maybe this is just another hyperfocus. Every time I forget my obligatory prayer, or I can't make it to Feast, or I don't go to someone's devotional because I have something else I'm doing, I worry. I worry I'm just going to some day just...drift out of this.

It's kinda scary to admit that, out loud. I talk about how the Faith has changed my life (and oh my gosh, it really has, but that's another story for another day), how I love my community, how I like that I have a way to participate within my own capacity for service with the newsletter and the social media bits. But I don't talk so much about how I am scared my brain is just going to decide I'm done, someday.

I know people will tell me that if it's important, it will stay. The way I've kept friendships alive and my marriage alive and my cat alive - they're important, beyond hyperfocus. The things that are part of the very core of me, those don't go away. I'd love to believe that my Faith is in there too, in the core of me. But I don't know yet. In the grand scheme of my life, I've been doing this Baha'i stuff for....maybe 3 percent of my entire existence?

I know the answer is to just keep on keeping on, the way I do. To keep finding ways to serve the Cause, to keep connecting with my local reality and my friends and my life, and to keep integrating the Baha'i concepts into my everything, as I've been doing. But I thought it might be good to also talk about being scared. I don't think we do that enough, admit we're scared sometimes. We all want to be good people doing good things in good ways that don't let people down.

So hi. I'm Ash, I'm not always good at this, and sometimes I get scared. Sit with me, if you're scared. We don't gotta even talk about it, we can just be scared together, and then we can maybe keep walking, lanterns held high, pushing back the dark.

Underneath They Still Are Only Trees

It's December 21st. Solstice for some, Yule for others, frantic shopping day for some people. Some of us are getting ready for Christmas stuff in various guises, other people are getting ready for Hanukkah...this time of year has a lot of celebrating in it.

As a Baha'i, I actually don't have any holidays of my own this time of year. I celebrate Christmas with my family and friends, but the next "big thing" for me and other Bahai's isn't until Ayyam-i-Ha in February. The next actual Holy Day is Naw Ruz, which is all the way away in March. I love so many Christmas traditions, though. People make extra efforts to see each other, we all have foods that we only seem to get to around this time of year, I get to spoil people I like (although I am still more prone to "hey I thought of you so here's a cool thing I found" style gifting, more than anything)...it's good stuff.

But right now, I find myself reflecting less on Christmas itself, and more on what sort of things it has in it. What do traditions look like? What things do I like about it? What could I do without? What makes it special?

You see, this is the first year I've been a Baha'i. So a lot of this year has been me learning a lot about what general stuff happens in a Baha'i life - what do holy days look like? Some are somber and reflective, some are full of joy and delight. What does Nineteen Day Feast look like? What does devotional life in my community look like?

I've learned a LOT. I've learned my community is amazing and caring and full of life and joy. I've made friends that I feel like I've known my whole life, and I've learned how to find my feet and my space and my path of service. But a lot of it has been me learning what things are, and now that I know what Ridvan is and what Naw Ruz is and what the fast looks like...now I get to figure out what sort of traditions I might like to build for myself around them.

Maybe I want to borrow some stuff I already know. Ayyam-i-Ha is about generosity and charity, so I can borrow some of Christmas's traditions there. I can find ways to share of my time and energy and love. Ridvan is about delight and change and renewal - I can borrow a lot of Christmas's childlike joy for that. Plus, gatherings usually mean food, so I can pull out my mom's shortbread recipe, and make speculaas cookies, and all the other things I love to make for holidays.

And maybe I'll figure out new things I like. Friends have told me about origami birds and toy camels and trees and dinners they hold and songs they sing and I don't know if I want to do any of that, but I know some of it sounds pretty fun. I'm going to get to make whole new traditions - some will draw on my past, some will be from my present, and some might be completely brand new things. Like the Twin Holy Birthdays are always going to mean cake and bright happy things, because to me, that's what birthdays need.

The fun part is? There's not really rules about any of this. In fact, we're told often to avoid strict rituals and tradtions (beyond things like the obligatory prayers, and so on). We're told that this is supposed to be for the whole world, and we value unity in diversity so much, that we don't want to tell people how they're supposed to do this stuff. Find ways to celebrate that suit you, your community, your family, all of that. If it doesn't feel good or right or proper, it's okay to let it go. And I like that. I like that I'm going to find paths through these things that fit me and the people around me and the people I care about. It's going to be a series of adventures, and they might not always be the same. It's gonna be a good ride, I think.

May An Elephant Caress You With His Toes

It's that time of year where everyone starts wanting you to think about the year that's almost over. What did you do? What did you miss? What was good? What was bad? What books did you read, what music did you listen to, how did your life change over the past 525600 minutes, 365 days, all of these moments, how did they shape you? And it's almost the end of 2019, so people are getting extra fluttery over things because "its the end of a decade", so you get all those questions, but ever the louder.

None of us are the same person we were a decade ago. None of us are the same person we were a year ago. Heck, I'm not even sure that the Ash-that-was-yesterday is the same Ash-that-is-today (I certainly sneezed a lot less yesterday. Thanks, ever-evolving cold-thing). Change happens, slowly but surely. We're not the same as we were, but we're us, still. The core things that make us...us are still there. Even if everything feels impossible different. 

I was making my bed this weekend, and I noticed my blankets. It's winter, so I have quite a few on my bed right now (and since my husband knows me well enough to not share with me because he's gonna end up cold and blanket-less because I burrito into all the blankets, there's even more on the bed). In a way, the blankets on the bed tie me to who I am, in the core of myself.

On my side of the bed, the bottom layer is a quilt my Nana gave me that I've had for...many years. I can't remember how long I've had it, but it's been in my life long enough that at some point, someone (my sister, I think?) put a new backing on it (which happens to be one of my old bedsheets). It reminds me of her so often when I snuggle into bed. My Nana gives excellent hugs, and she is always quick to tell a joke or say something that makes you smile. I can feel that, under her blanket.

The second layer is a quilt my sister made - when she got married, all her attendants (is that the right word? Her bridemaids and stuff) got a quilt she made out of old clothes and other things of hers. I can tell you about almost all the fabrics on it - so many memories of ridiculous adventures we had. My sister is very much my partner in absolute joy and silliness, and her quilt holds all of that.

The top layer right now on my side is a GIANT thick fuzzy blanket with a moon and star theme. My parents gave it to me when I was in my teens, I think. Maybe younger. It comes out only in the winter, when I am super cold. It's like all their love is so strong that it fills the blanket and keeps me so warm, that I can't use it most of the time.

When it's too hot for that blanket, I often have this amazing purple and yellow sunflower quilt that my mother in law made for my husband and I when we got married a couple years ago. It's made of so many pieces, and I know it took her a really long time to make. I think about how much love and dedication she put into it, and how much love she sends to us from far away. (She's still living in the US, and we're in Canada.)

My blankets help ground me in a whole lot of love. Whoever I was, whoever I am going to be, whoever I am - I am loved. I have all of this love stored in all of these blankets (and those are just the ones that are on my bed, there are more in my closet that are full of love and stories too). I am a daughter and wife and granddaughter and friend and sister and a whole lot of other things that aren't going to disappear any time soon. I am very lucky to have a family that surrounds me with love and warmth, even if they're not right here to give me a hug. My blankets are proof of that.

Family is important - one of the things the Baha'i Faith talks a lot about is the idea that we can't have world unity if we don't have family unity. I like how making my bed is a very physical reminder of the unity my family has created, and how blessed I am to have it. 

Forever Flicker in Closeup

I am...not a small person. I take up space. I'm 6 ft tall, and roughly 300lbs. I'm a giant, and I love it. I don't care to be tiny - my body serves me well, and does a lot of amazing things for me and with me. It gets me where I need to go, it lets me give really good hugs, it's good for a lot. I'm used to taking up space, it's not a new concept. I thought me and my body were on pretty good terms - I love it, it loves me, I make sure to feed it vegetables more often than cake, I rest when I need to, all of that good stuff. I'm not perfect, but I try.

But...lately, I've discovered that me and my body aren't always as good at talking to each other as I thought. I've started doing bellydance - very casual intro stuff taught by someone I very much value. It's fun, but...it's hard. And not just physical work hard - that I expected. I expected learning to move in new ways using new muscles would be an adjustment, and it is. What I didn't expect, was how much my brain make my body resist.

It's supposed to be about surrender - about letting the music show you what it wants, how your body should move. It's a conversation, it's freedom...it's a lot of me forgetting where my feet are, because there's a disconnect somewhere in my middle. It's me being terrified to move, to flow, to let go. It's not about how I will look - I'm a  fat human, I'mma gonna wobble like a giant jello. It's about...moving and taking up the room and not being good at it and letting myself feel it and move in ways that aren't "proper", are just feeling and sensuality maybe and just...surrendering.

I never realized how tightly I hold myself. I try so hard to make sure I take up just enough space, but not too much space, that any of myself doesn't touch anyone sitting beside me on the bus, that I am as small as I can be so that people don't call me out on the ways they find my size offensive or annoying. My husband remarks on how my shoulders are always tight, from hours of holding myself just so. I don't even realize I'm doing it, most of the time. I'm just used to accepting I take up space, and hoping that enough other people don't notice in uncomfortable ways til I get through the day.

I have no desire to lose lots of weight (and I know how impossible, statistically, that all is anyhow). I'm cool with being soft and curved and how my butt fills my jeans. I just...don't know how to move, how to let go. how to feel the beat of the music, that audacious conversation, and to let go long enough to let myself be a part of it. Anyone who has gone dancing with me has heard me refer to myself as an electrocuted octopus, because I don't know how to just...let the music talk, without all of my brain screaming at it about how this is NOT OKAY.

I'm trying to undo that. I'm trying to get through years of purity culture, of church teaching me that True Love Waits and the world insisting that as a person in a woman-shaped meat suit...I need to be quiet and submissive and how dare I enjoy this magical gift of a body that God gave me.

I'm *done*. I'm tired! I don't wanna listen. Maybe I will make a terrible bellydancer. Maybe my limbs WILL be everywhere and maybe I *can't * figure out the 1-2-3 beat and maybe I will just be all jello all over the place....but maybe...that's okay. maybe it's okay to just...love myself in all of my learning to let go, to surrender, to let myself be a part of that conversation.

Abdu'l-Baha reminds us that we should "[r]eflect upon the inner realities of the universe, the secret wisdoms involved, the enigmas, the inter-relationships, the rules that govern all. For every part of the universe is connected with every other part by ties that are very powerful and admit of no imbalance, nor any slackening whatever." I am connected with every other bit of the world, with the music and sounds and feelings and people and everything. I'm allowed, even encouraged, to be a part of that. We're all one thing, many pieces of one whole. So I'm not letting go, so much, as just...letting myself feel the music and be one with it, and find the ways it is tied to me and I am tied to it.

After all, as one of my most favourite quotes from Abdu'l-Baha reminds me, "Consider the flowers of a garden. Though differing in kind, color, form, and shape, yet, inasmuch as they are refreshed by the waters of one spring, revived by the breath of one wind, invigorated by the rays of one sun, this diversity increaseth their charm, and addeth unto their beauty. How unpleasing to the eye if all the flowers and plants, the leaves and blossoms, the fruits, the branches and the trees of that garden were all of the same shape and color! Diversity of hues, form and shape, enricheth and adorneth the garden, and heighteneth the effect thereof. In like manner, when divers shades of thought, temperament and character, are brought together under the power and influence of one central agency, the beauty and glory of human perfection will be revealed and made manifest."

So maybe right now I'm just a shaky little sapling in the wind, but it's a start. I am giving myself permission, right now, to let go, to move, to stop letting the old world drag me down by my toes. If we wanna change the world, we gotta learn how to move. So...I'm gonna dance.