falling…

Converting to Orthodoxy has been kicking my ass lately. My response has been less than holy. I’ve been kicking back and swearing a lot, clearly. There are a number of people in my life, people who know me well who may tell me now that I’m making far too much of this and perhaps I am. Drama queen much? Probably. Is this what “taming the passions” means for me? To choose to…

Theodora…

I’ve been writing a lot lately on my other blog about being the river, being the mountain, being the forest. As Mrs Metaphor I guess it comes naturally to me to see myself not as being outside of nature but as being fully engaged in it, being a part of everything that breathes and so it seems right that I stumbled upon a story today about Theodora of Vasta. It is said…

no room…

There is no room in my life for Orthodoxy. My life is simply not organized in such a way as to really allow me to engage this practice- to make time to pray, to find a community, to commit to new people…even to attend Liturgy. I just don’t have the room for it. I don’t have the space for it.  And this is the reality of my situation. It’s distressing. I’m distressed.…

wrestling…

For a long time now I’ve been wrestling…with my will, with my hubris…with my motivation and all this time I’ve been mistaken, gravely mistaken about the nature of my struggle. It’s not ironic but rather, comic, really, that all this struggle I’ve been thinking I’m trying to pin God, all “Jacob and the Angel” like but the reality is that I’ve been wrestling only myself. I see myself in this struggle, clearly…

anchoring…

It seems as though everything is moving all the time like the sea is moving even when the wind has stopped, everything is in motion. I confess I’m one of those people who wakes up and checks her smart phone. I’d love to say I wake up and I pray first or I work out or I go for a walk but I don’t, I check my phone. This is the part…

bride-zilla…

It’s a little like getting married. I mean the ceremony, the life changing, the name stuff, the new way of looking at things, it is a little like getting married. This may be why I feel like I want to talk about it with my friends, bring it up in conversation, find ways to connect it to the rest of my real life. I am beginning to suspect my friends are losing…

cell…

Every so often I get the urge to move to a monastery and take up residence in a monk’s cell.  An empty cell, not one with a monk in it still. That’s wrong on a number of levels. Several years ago I visited The Abbey at Gethsemane in Kentucky for a silent retreat and it was wonderful,  well except for the food. The food was not great. I can say that with…