My Future Self

From January to July of this year, I wore a man bun. I kept the sides short and the top long because I wanted to, not because it was functional, easy to manage, or looked good. I wanted to. Long ago I vowed to not pay any attention to other people’s opinions. This is my life and I’m going to live it how I want, whether that means growing a man bun or doing yoga in the grass. My life and my terms.

I cut off my bun in July—I was ready for a change. Now, when I look back at pictures during my man-bun phase, I can’t believe how stupid I looked. The bun was pretty weak and I took way to long in between touch-ups. I looked silly and out of place, confused by whether I wanted to have long hair or be an athlete. Next time I grow my hair out, I’ll grow all of it out, not just the top.

But this has me thinking: I know I don’t care about other’s opinions, but when my future self casts judgement and blame, why do I listen? Who am I, really, if I’m constantly changing? Is my future self myself or is that another person, drastically and unequivocally different from who I am right now? If we’re serious about not caring about what other’s think, should that include ourselves, too?

Maybe we can learn from ourselves without judging ourselves. Maybe we can look at our past selves and love the person who became who you are right now. Maybe we can recognize that our future selves will want to look with distain on who you are now, but we are the one who can stop the judgement in its tracks.

Radical self love, now and in days to come. Learning from my past without judging it. Being who I am while loving who I was. This is what I want to be.

Musical Medicine

Last night Camille and I went to experience Nahko and Medicine for the People at Union Transfer. This wasn’t a concert but an an encounter with healing medicine, medicine not just capable of healing the world but ourselves. We’ve been Nahko fans since about May, right when two people very close to me transitioned. Nahko’s musical medicine helped me gain perspective in a challenging time, turning my focus towards love instead of loss.

We were in the front as Nahko & MFTP played their battle cries of peace, unity, and unwavering love for mankind. Together we proclaimed “Aloha” and “Mahalo” so all of Philly could hear us. We were building bridges between races and cultures, between belief systems and waking consciousness. We were encouraged to advocate for our common home and support our brothers and sisters trying to protect it, like the people of Hawaii trying to save the sacred Mauna Kea. Together, we can make a change. Together, we will make a change.

There was one potent moment last night that changed me for good. After a long build up, Nahko was singing, “What a Beautiful Life,” over and over. I raised my hands, closed my eyes, and began to cry. My heart was beating out of my chest and I was filled with God. I felt the full embrace of my body and my soul. I became One with all that is, and I’ve never been happier. I’ve felt this before, but it’s always a fleeting moment. These few experiences are the best moments of my life.

My physiology professor and whoever else says “the heart is just a pump” have clearly never had an experience like this. The heart is what connects our conscious soul and our earthly experience. It’s home to the soul, the dwelling place of our very being. It’s where the Kingdom of God is—right here and within us. Nahko and Medicine for the People helped me remember that again.

To all who made last night so magical and healing, Mahalo. We are in this together. You will be in my heart forever.

A New Kitchen Table

I came home for the weekend and saw my parent’s new kitchen table. It’s a high top wood table with a dark stain and comfortable bar stools surround it. This was the final sep of their kitchen makeover which began earlier this year. This t’s the same hight as the new island so that, theoretically, the tables could be connected to fit 10 for a big family dinner.

This new table replaced the table that was in our home since before I was born. That table was ugly — it had dents on the legs from ramming toys into it, pencil scars on the surface from countless hours of homework, and scratched off gloss from intrigued children. The light wood has faded and the chipped blue paint of the legs has been covered a few times with chipped black paint. It was ugly but broken in. From happy hours to family dinner, discussions about college and card games, this table was m favorite feature of our house. It was the cornerstone of our family.

I voiced my disapproval of change many times. I’ve also voiced my dislike for the new table (I don’t like the style). But my parents understood, so they saved our original table for me. It’s in the attic, waiting for me to find a good use for it. I have some ideas…Stay tuned.

I guess I’ll have to give the new table a try. It’s healthy to force yourself to change when you don’t want to. Acceptance of what is sounds like a pretty good discipline to practice.

I Believe in Magic

Life is a lot better with magic and mystery. Without a sense of wonder, nothing is that interesting. This world is far more than data and observation. It has to be.

Your Body

Have you ever though about what your skull looks like? What about your small intestine? Have you considered that your heart is keeping you alive, but you’ll never see it working? Don’t forget your brain—how it sends neural impulses at speeds of 150 miles per hour…and how we can send humans into outer space but we don’t fully understand how it works.

Some scientists tell us we have around 37 trillion cells in our body. That number is almost unbelievable. Not only that, but each of those 37 trillion cells has a purpose. Cells work with their neighboring cells to make up tissues, and different tissues work together to form complex communication and support systems throughout the body. This leads to an organism.

Trillions of things have to happen for you to read this post right now. The fact that you can read is preposterous. Most of us take these things for granted. Really, we are living miracles made up of particles. Maybe treating one another as miracles would be a good step forward.

Moments of Overwhelm

Recently I’ve been having overwhelming moments, but not overwhelming as in “overloaded with work;” rather, I mean overloaded with peace. It’s happened a few times this week. All of a sudden every confusing, frustrating, challenging part of my reality comes to a halt and I once again remember the sages telling me: “just be grateful.” And so I sit in gratitude and peace for this life I’ve been gifted, this life I’m living right now.

I don’t know what I’m doing to deserve moments this joyous—when no anxiety or fear is present. I’m confident I don’t deserve any of this. But it’s happening, and I hope it keeps happening.

I am wishing this peace be with all of you.

Improvise

Tonight in my Perspectives in Leadership class the Improv Team came and lead us through some improv games. We learned how to think differently, how to set people up for success, and how to understand that others probably don’t see situations the way we do. It was an interesting and meaningful tie-in with leadership.

One perspective shared was “life is improv.” This means two things: that we shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously and that we should allow ourselves to fail. I like this perspective. Being serious is a trap. It sucks the joy out of life. Instead, we should play more and be grateful for our falls, scraped knees, and dirty hands. This world is our playground and we should treat it as such (so long as we clean up after ourselves).

In Matthew 18:3, Jesus says: “Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” And in Luke 17:21, Jesus says: “…nor will they say ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For behold, the kingdom of heaven is in your midst.”

So the kingdom of heaven is in my midst. That means it’s here. And I can’t enter the kingdom unless I become like a child—more open, not so serious, and innocent. This means if I become like a child and play more, I can experience the kingdom of heaven here, now.

Time to stop being so serious.

God doesn’t change

I’m in a course titled “Philosophy of God in Aquinas.” We are working through the Summa Contra Gentiles, supposedly written to be a handbook for Catholic missionaries. Slowly but surely, we’re dissecting Aquinas’ claims about the existence of God and, now, the qualities of God. The past few classes, we’ve been talking about the eternality of God.

Eternality is a difficult concept. It doesn’t mean everlasting, which is to have no beginning and no end. And it doesn’t mean atemporal—to exist outside of time. Rather, to be eternal means to have life and experience the fullness of reality at every moment, or something like that. Because each moment is a full expression of existence, there would be no such notion of past or present. Only now. And if there is only now in existence, there can be no change in that being, for change requires time. Therefore, God does not change.

If you didn’t understand that, don’t sweat it. Neither do I.

But let’s pretend for a second we understand that God exists, is eternal, and doesn’t change. If God doesn’t change, then why the hell do we ask God for stuff? Petitionary prayer is old as dirt, and sometimes miracles happen seemingly as a result of specific prayers. But if God won’t change God’s mind, what do the prayers really do? Do they do anything?

Aquinas argues yes, they do matter. They matter because God has always known what you’re going to pray for. God always aligned reality in such a way that your choice to freely pray and petition may change your earthly future. God has, therefore, already designed different worlds—or is currently designing different worlds?—where you get what you ask for and you don’t get what you ask for. Your asking may just make the difference.

I don’t know what I just typed. It doesn’t make much sense yet, but one day it might. I know that I shouldn’t stop praying anytime soon.

Time for Yourself

The root of the word “religion” comes from the word “relationship.” This is why faiths are called religions—because they support you in entering a relationship with the divine, with God. While spirituality on its own is an individual pursuit that lacks a shared vision with others, religion offers you every means necessary (from community to value structures) to convene with the creator. Religion contains spirituality, but not vice versa.

My girlfriend and I have been getting into more arguments than usual lately. We’ve also been spending a lot of time together. Today she pointed out that becasue we’re with each other so much, we don’t have enough opportunities to be with ourselves and grow. She said this lack of personal growth might be leading to a halt in our relationship, inevitably holding us both back.

My relationship with God has changed over time. Sometimes we’re best friends and do everything together. Sometimes we spend too much time together and I grow intellectually and spiritually stagnant. Other times I drift away from God to learn about myself, only to come running back into open arms, ready to rebuild and grow together again.

I love religion, and I love my religion. I love my God and I love my girlfriend. I love myself enough to be alone, to confront the confused and scared man in the mirror.

This is religion at its core. This is the practice faith calls us to.

Laughter

Put yourself in position to laugh. If you treat life too seriously, joy will be hard to find. Love and let live—allow yourself to be the fool capable of inspiring laughter in others and yourself.

Laughter is my favorite medicine.