Lent Days 5 and 6: Quiet and Focus

Apparently one of the things I cannot do when tired is count.  I marked yesterday's entry incorrectly as Day 6.  So I'm really glad I didn't try balancing my checkbook or working on taxes last night.

There are several sounds that transport me to other times and places, like the cry of a newborn, waves lapping the shore or the automatic transmission of a 1970's Ford -- an LTD to be exact, which always lulled me to sleep on long drives no matter how hard I tried to stay awake.  To this day I'm glad I never driven a similar transmission because I'd be pulled over for DWS -- driving while snoozing if I were lucky enough to survive that situation.

Today I heard the familiar purr and roar of a Honda engine, shifting through local and highway traffic.  I heard it more than I wanted to because this is the first Lenten day in years that I've driven a car for more than a few minutes, and I ached to flip on some tunes or catch some inane sports talk radio or my usual haunt -- news and commentary from NPR.

It's odd, because I have no problem with 'acoustic' walk commuting.  I prefer listening to the wind rustling, birds chirping and especially the sound of motor traffic, essential for pedestrians in a car-centric city like St. Louis.  I can really collect my thoughts during the walks, drifting in and out of task lists or wondering why people (mostly me) do the things they do.

But today I was craving distraction, or something.  I didn't want to hear my faithful Honda engine as my eyes monitored traffic patterns around me.  I wanted to hear the news, badly.  In some ways I felt like Number 5, the robot in "Short Circuit" who achieved sentience in a freak accident and loved learning so much that his favorite line was "more input" (meaning books, movies, etc.).  (And if you haven't seen that movie, Wall-E looked curiously similar to Number 5.)  I wanted to get my news fix so I could be in the loop, in case I actually had the time at work to talk about something, well, other than work.  I enjoy discussing current events, or moreover, hate it when I can't because I've been too busy to stay in touch.

However, today's struggle reminded me that each year, the audio-free commute is one of the best sacrifices I make as part of my Lenten discipline.  I have precious little time to myself and usually have some audio playing all day, like the TV or radio or music.   I might stay "in the loop" but at the expense of listening to myself, and in many ways, listening to God.  It will be interesting to see what happens after Lent and if I continue to write as much when I allow the noise to return... because this last week I've written more consistently than ever before.

Lent Day 6: "Mulligan" Needed

Massive headache, probably from work and the crazy weekend schedule.  Going to bed early and will hopefully write a long entry tomorrow night.

Lent, First Sunday in...

In the church calendar, Sundays are usually known as the "Sundays of" as in the 4th Sunday of Pentecost or the 2nd Sunday of Advent.

But during Lent, they're known as the "Sundays in" as in today is the first Sunday in Lent. If I put my outsider's hat on again (that I grew up outside the church) and do the math geek thing that's hardwired in my genes, there are more than 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. In fact, it's off by 6 because Sundays don't count. Sundays are mini-Easters and therefore they are "in" rather than part "of" the Lenten season. (And my mother should be proud of me now because as fantastic as my math scores were, I could never choose the proper preposition back in high school -- and she was a high school English teacher.)

Lent Days 3 and 4: Ritual and Meaning

[I was too busy/tired to write last night, but remembered my thoughts for the day vividly.]

The day began with the usual routine, with NPR's Morning Edition blasting just louder than the spray of the shower nozzle. I had mentally tuned out at the end of a story and almost missed their 'tag' between stories, about Joe Biden having a mysterious bruise on his forehead. Actually, it was NPR reporting about how a Sky One News correspondent forgot it was Ash Wednesday and that 'bruise' was mark left by the ashes imposed as part of the Ash Wednesday ritual. Her embarrassed response was quite amusing: "I know that I am a very bad Catholic. I know now that it is Ash Wednesday and I know that those are ashes on his forehead. I hang my head in shame. I'll be back in just a moment." (Link to NPR transcript)

Lent Day 2: Quiet Time and Psalm 51

The new routines continued today, providing an emerging clarity in and of my daily life.

In previous Lenten seasons I have given up favorite foods or activities, but in recent years I've settled on giving up the radio in the car. Without the driving rhythm of music or the steady drone of NPR news or commentary, I would give myself the time to just think while driving... kind of a random patter of thoughts while I navigate through traffic safely. I would also invariably hear if anything was mechanically wrong with the car.

But this year I'm back to being a mass transit commuter, and the one mile walk to the train station is also without tunes or instructional audio like foreign language lessons.

Lent 2010: Prologue

A colleague lost her father over the weekend, and I went to the visitation on Mardi Gras, traditionally the last big bash before Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. For many reasons I was looking forward to Lent, for Christians the season of sacrifice and penance and/or deeper focus of one's faith, depending on who you ask.

I drove from work to the visitation, and gave a ride to our project manager (I'll call him 'N') because he comes from out of town to work in St. Louis during the week. He had never been to a (Christian) visitation, having come from India as a practicing Hindu. He asked if there was anything he needed to know prior to entering the visitation and it led to a fascinating comparison of different mourning rituals.

N shared with me about when his father passed away in India a few years ago, and that after the cremation he had to throw his father's bones in the river. And that after that experience he no longer feared death.

All this discussion led N to a scintillating line, one that topped any of my own personal preparations for Lent, and one that I'll mull over for the entire season of Lent: "Death is the beginning of all religions."

Lent Day 1: Spiritual Hunger

I hunger.

Not in the physical or the emotional sense that have wreaked havoc on my health over the past months from stressing over work and other responsibilities.

No, it's a spiritual hunger, aching for renewal and rejuvenation, seeking a sense of peace with others and with myself. And ultimately, with God. I'm missing joy, but not just the feelings associated with joy -- I sense an evolving cynicism and jadedness that I've often faked and mocked in my younger days. I don't greet the day with the enthusiasm I used to, but rather just gird myself to get through what needs doing, as the Powdermilk Biscuits theme song from Prairie Home Companion likes to remind us.

I enter this Lenten season more eager than I ever have. I've planned small changes in my daily routines to start today, Ash Wednesday, to support renewal of myself - body, mind and soul.