Community Building

This morning, I'm forgoing my morning walk.  I've been told that the locksmith will be here early, and while I'm pretty sure it won't be before sunrise, I don't want to risk missing the locksmith.  Plus, the lock is starting to spook me.  It took me a long time to get into my apartment last night after class.

So, I will stay here and bake bread and get reading for class done.  And since I don't have class or other commitments today, when the locksmith is done, I can still go for a walk.

I got into my apartment last night and felt exhausted--it wasn't about the lock.  I got home from Williamsburg on Monday at noon and worked on both the online classes that I'm teaching and a fairly intense analysis of preacher (me) and congregation that my Foundations of Preaching class required for Tuesday.  Yesterday, my schedule was fairly intense, with 2 classes and Chapel.

Last week the chapel intern asked me if I would read one of the passages for Tuesday.  I said yes before I realized it was the opening convocation, but I would have said yes anyway.  I was assigned the Call to Worship.  I got to the chapel early so that I could make sure I could navigate the stairs.  The professor in charge of the service also made sure that I was comfortable.  And it went well.

It was delightful to do the passing of the peace and to have my favorite New Testament professor say, "Peace be with you, Kristin."  Dr. Abts, who gave me great feedback on my poems as part of a Spring class, spoke to me after class--she looks so different in person!  As I waited in line to exit, I realized that one of my small group members from Spiritual Formation class was in line too--we made some small talk while waiting.

I am glad I had the experience of those online classes before coming to campus.  I feel like I have a bit of a head start towards knowing people.  Some of my fellow students from last year are taking in person classes, so that's a treat.

It's a shame that there's no food service on campus.  Or maybe it's more accurate to say that it's interesting that I feel more comfortable getting to know people over coffee or a meal than I do without food.

Last night, in the Foundations of Preaching class that's offered in hy-flex mode, we had our first small groups that were a mix of Zoom folks and in person classroom folks.  It went much better than I was expecting.  We're in a large lecture room, so two groups were at either end of the room (total of 3 of us in the room) while the remaining groups went outside of the room (to the lounge or hallway) to set up their groups.  We didn't have feedback, and we were able to hear each other--hurrah!

Before the class ended, several of us contributed to the chat to talk about how much it seemed to build community almost instantly.  In a small group on Zoom, we were able to see each other much more clearly which made us feel a better sense of connection.  I had a similar experience earlier in the day in my Pastoral Care and Counseling in Context class.  Even though we're on Zoom, we both live in DC.  maybe we could meet for coffee in real life some day.

Perhaps I'm not the only one who feels more comfortable building community over coffee.

The Prodigal Poetry Legal Pads Return!

I have gotten to a new stage of the moving process--realizing what's missing and wondering if it's still in a box somewhere.  The morning that the moving van came, I put several last minute things in one last open box:  a plastic gallon tea pitcher, my immersion blender, my small mug from the National Aquarium.  I thought I brought that box with me to seminary, but I'm pretty sure it's not here.  My spouse thinks it's not at the Arden house, but I'll take a last look when I return there this coming week-end.  We haven't lost much, so I don't want to believe we lost a box.  Plus, we checked off all the boxes when they came in.

During the past week, as I've worked on poetry submissions, I thought about how long it's been since I typed in new poems.  I write poems by hand on a purple legal pad.  In an ideal world, I would return to the work after a few weeks, make revisions, type the poem into the computer, and start sending it out into the world.

Over the last ten years, my best practice has dwindled.  In a good year, I've entered 5-30 poems into the computer.  I think it's been about 2 years since I entered anything new.  My submitting has also dwindled, and if I'm not submitting, why type drafts into the computer?

This morning, I reflected on a good reason to do it--because then I have it.  For a brief minute, I thought I might have lost my box of purple legal pads full of rough drafts, about 10 years of rough drafts.  I had more legal pads, but I had entered all the finished poems out of them.  For decades I kept all the rough drafts, just in case.  But it's become clear that I'm unlikely to go way far back to work with drafts.  I can barely keep up with the recent rough drafts.

The thought that I might have lost all of my recent rough drafts (a decade's worth of rough drafts) made me feel wretched.  It didn't make me feel any better to realize that I didn't remember exactly what might have been lost.

Happily, I thought I remembered that they might be in the box with my sketchbooks--and happily, they are.  

I will likely be in this apartment for the next year or two.  Let me not waste this time.  Perhaps, if I focus, I can get all the more recent poems entered into the computer before it's time to move again.

Labor and Labor Day

It is Labor Day Monday, a paid time off holiday for some.  Technically I have today off, but since I am teaching online classes, if I wanted, I could take every Monday off.  I'm also a student, so my Monday class doesn't meet tonight--but I did have a written assignment due, which I've turned in.

I've spent this Labor Day week-end in Williamsburg, Virginia with my parents.  It's been a delightful time.  I will head back this morning in hopes of avoiding the worst of Labor Day traffic.  Once back at my seminary apartment, I'll work on an assignment due in my Foundations of Preaching class tomorrow and do some grading.

Many of us think about Labor Day as the end of summer, and I'm old enough to remember when college classes started the Tuesday after Labor Day.  My mom does too; she said in her generation it was because college students had jobs at country clubs that would close after Labor Day.  In terms of weather, I've always lived in places where summer will stretch on through September and perhaps beyond.

It's interesting to think about Labor Day in this time of "quiet quitting" and people restructuring their working lives.  Will we see this time period as one that changed labor relations forever?  Or will we see the forces of capitalism and empire crack down and break the momentum of workers?

Even though many of us will see today as simply a day off, it's a good day to think about work, both the kind we do for pay and the kind we do out of love. And what about the work we feel compelled to do? I'm thinking of that kind of documenting of family history, of cultural history, of all that might be lost without our efforts.  I'm thinking of our creative work.  There's so many more different kinds of work than just work for pay.

I'm thinking about our attitude towards work too.  I am glad to see that this article, published in 2016, about the theology of work is still online.  Here's my favorite quote from it, with ideas informed by Christian monasticism:  "Taking Benedict’s approach would force us to reconsider how we think about our work. Instead of, 'What work am I called to?' we might ask, 'How does the task before me contribute to or hinder my progress toward holiness?; Not 'How does this work cooperate with material creation?' but 'How does this work contribute to the life of the community and to others’ material and spiritual well-being?' Not 'Am I doing what I love?' but 'What activity is so important that I should, without exception, drop my work in order to do it?'”

And here's a Buddhist thought about work for your Labor Day, found in an interview with Bill Moyers and Jane Hirshfield who explains, "Teahouse practice means that you don't explicitly talk about Zen. It refers to leading your life as if you were an old woman who has a teahouse by the side of the road. Nobody knows why they like to go there, they just feel good drinking her tea. She's not known as a Buddhist teacher, she doesn't say, "This is the Zen teahouse." All she does is simply serve tea--but still, her decades of attentiveness are part of the way she does it. No one knows about her faithful attention to the practice, it's just there, in the serving of the tea, and the way she cleans the counters and washes the cups" (Fooling with Words: A Celebration of Poets and Their Craft, page 112).

Tech Updates

One of the reasons that I wanted to attend seminary in person was the chance to be geographically closer to my family. Since I don't want to waste any time in the few years that I'll spend in DC, on Friday, I went down to Williamsburg to see my parents.

My trip today was both easy and not. As I was getting adjusted in the car in the parking lot of Wesley, I saw a deer ambling across the parking lot. If we hadn't seen them a few weeks ago, I'd have thought I was losing my mind.

I got turned around leaving DC--I recognized the McDonalds from an earlier trip that my sister and I made to Wesley in early August.  We stopped there to try to get our bearings.  I kept driving and saw signs for I 95, and I knew I was on a road going east.  I thought, if I'm not careful, I'll end up in Baltimore. I turned around, got on 395, and zipped on down.

I thought I would recognize the Williamsburg exit. I was all the way to Newport News before I realized I had missed it. I got off the interstate, looking for a place where I could park and program the phone. Instead I got on a road and the sign said, "Only Ft. Eustis traffic. All others must exit." So I exited and got back on the interstate headed west.

From that direction, I saw a sign that mentioned the next exit was good for parking for William and Mary football games.  I took that exit, but missed a subsequent exit.  Happily, another sign directed me to downtown Williamsburg.   

I drove around the downtown, which doesn't have many places to pull over and park for a few minutes. Happily, at the Municipal Building I was able to park and program the phone, which took me in to my parents'. Plus I figured out how to have it talk to me.

Can I make it talk to me again? Can I remember how I did it? That remains to be seen.

In the future, I can probably make the trip in 2.5 to 3 hours, if the traffic isn't snarled.  In the future, I'll program the phone before I leave.  I thought about how glad I was to have the phone.  Of course, if I hadn't had a phone, I would have gotten the directions before I left and written them down.

Technology is amazing, when it works.  My dad spent several hours on the phone yesterday trying to get the cable reconnected to the TV and chasing down the answer to a banking question.  My mom and I spent time trying to figure out where a book delivery went.  Some background:  when I opened my packages of books a week ago, I realized I had ordered the wrong version of one of them.  It was a book on CD, but I need a paper copy.  So, I ordered it again to come to my parents' house so I could pick it up this week-end. My folks said it hadn't come, but I had gotten a notice that it was delivered on Tuesday. Hmm.

 
I checked the address, and I had mistyped one #. So we went to that house in the neighborhood, which was vacant. No book by the front door or in the carport. But there, by the back door, was the book, waiting patiently for me. Happily, it hasn't been a rainy week in Williamsburg.

Tomorrow, I'll collect my books, my laptop, my smart cell phone, and head back to DC.  I'll take some tomatoes and peppers, items I bought at a farmer's market yesterday, veggies that will provide the basis for meals this week.  Low tech joys and high tech joys--it's probably the secret to a satisfied life, a life that can deal with tech issues and keep it all in perspective.

Farewells: Fear of Falling, Failing

There are some weeks where no one dies.  Then there are the weeks where I feel like I should note significant passings.  Happily, so far, no one I know personally has died.  

I was working on seminary studies earlier this week when the news broke of Mikhail Gorbachev's death.  I thought about how young he was, and then I thought, no, wait, he was young decades ago.  I was a bit stunned to read that he was in his 90's.  I remember when he came to power after a string of elderly Soviet leaders died one after another during my undergraduate days.  I thought about how he might be in power for much of the rest of my lifetime, like Stalin.  As the months and years went on, I wasn't sure how to process his approach to governing.

Me and lots of other people and maybe Gorbachev himself.  In the days that followed his death, many people wrote about him, but my favorite is this article by Anne Applebaum, which includes this gem:  "Almost nobody in history has ever had such a profound impact on his era, while at the same time understanding so little about it."

Barbara Ehrenreich, on the other hand, had a vast knowledge of  the history of our time, and her writing helped us understand it too.  I became aware of her work in the mid 80's when I read the 1970's writing that she did with Deirdre English on the subject of the history of women's health.  When I was in grad school, I got a used copy of Fear of Falling: The Inner Life of the Middle Class.  I thought that the insights that she had about women's fear of poverty was also applicable to grad students.

Of course it was her work that became Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By In America that gained her a larger audience.  I remember reading an earlier version that was a magazine article in Harper's.  I read in a college library where I waited to interview for an adjunct position that I didn't get.  I remember thinking about how many low wage jobs existed that I knew very little about--happily, Ehrenreich was there to show us the way.

I was lucky enough to get to see her in 2009 when she came to Books and Books.  I wrote this blog post about it.  She was charming and gracious and so, so funny.

I think about her work and how I once thought that her undercover work as a low wage worker might lead to lasting social change for those on the lower rungs.  So far, it has not.  I think about Gorbachev and how the fall of the Soviet Union both led to more freedom for many nations, but also to Putin's reactions to his feelings of shame/distress/anger at how his nation fell.  I am thinking of unintended consequences and the work still left to be done.

Week 1 of Seminary Classes: First Impressions

And so, week 1 of seminary classes comes to a close.  I've downloaded syllabi, bought books, and even turned in an assignment.  I've been to the first meeting of each class, and I'm happy to report that I am genuinely looking forward to each class.  So let me write my first week impressions.  I'll take each class in order of when they happen in the week. 

Monday nights from 6:30 to 8:30, I take a class called Leading Innovation.  It's a virtual synchronous class, which means we meet on Zoom.  The subject matter isn't unfamiliar to me.  It seems like we'll be exploring a process that I've done as part of a church and part of a synod:  exploring an individual church's strengths and weaknesses, exploring how the individual church interacts with the surrounding community.   It will be interesting to see how this instructor explores these issues; he does consulting work throughout the Methodist church, so he's led many churches and church leaders through this process.

Tuesday afternoon from 1:30 to 4:30, I take Pastoral Care and Counseling in Context, also a virtual synchronous class.  I could have taken this class or a more basic Intro to Pastoral Counseling class.  I wanted this one because it focuses not just on the individual and the pastor, but looking at the wider culture.  This instructor has expanded the idea of the wider culture.  Once this class looked only at family systems, but this instructor will take a more sociological approach and look at various systems that can impact a parishioner and a pastor, particularly oppressive systems, like racism or colonialism.  The instructor said that he was adding more non-western resources to the curriculum that he inherited.  I realize these aspects (non-western resources, societal systems of oppression) would be an immediate turn off for some, but for me, it's essential. 

On Tuesday night from 6:30 to 9:30, I take Foundations of Preaching, which will teach us how to write and deliver a sermon.  That may sound dry, especially for those who have been preaching/teaching/presenting for a long time.  But the teacher is especially dynamic, and the activities will be varied.  It's a hy-flex course.  I decided to attend in person--two Zoom classes in a day could be too much.

On Thursday afternoon from 1:30 to 3:30, I'm taking Creative Process, Spiritual Practice.  We'll be exploring a variety of creative processes, from sketching outside to watercolors to improv to fiber arts to creative writing.  And we won't just analyze them from a distance--we'll actually do them.  It sounds like the best kind of creative retreat, which is a main reason I chose Wesley, so that I can take classes like this one.

On Thursday night, I'm in Church History 1 class.  I was a bit leery of taking this heavy class at the end of a class week and at a time slot from 6:30 to 9:30.  Those who know me know that for many nights, 9:30 is past my bedtime.  Happily, the instructor is dynamic and has a wonderful way of injecting humor into the class.  Once I thought about taking on a third major but I couldn't decide what I should add to my undergraduate majors of English and Sociology--it might have been History or it might have been Religion and Philosophy.  In the end, I didn't add a third major, but I did take a lot of history classes.

I have said before that I am happy that my instructors are passionate about the subjects that they are teaching.  I do feel that I should be able to count on instructor enthusiasm for the subject, but I've been around long enough to realize that it's not always a given, particularly when the instructors are adjunct professors (some of my professors are adjuncts which is always a bit of a surprise to me).  As I think about these instructors, I'm struck by their day jobs.  They're not trying to cobble together a living from teaching adjunct classes.  Those day jobs will also enrich our experiences as students and learning communities as instructors working outside academia will bring information to the class that a full-time person might not.

I am thrilled with these classes, which is good, because after the upheavals of the past few years, I don't want to be saddled with doubt that comes from blah classes.  I realize that day may come.  Surely all my classes won't inspire this kind of happiness in me?  But so far they have.  I am grateful for this state of being.

September Submission Strategies

This morning, I looked at the date on my computer:  September 1.  We all have different seasonal markers, and one of mine is September 1 as the date when many literary journals open for submissions after a summer hiatus.

In the past, long ago in the past, before online submissions, I would have had a stack of submissions ready to be mailed on September 1.  I had a plan and a purpose, and I needed publications.  I had a vision of a better teaching job or maybe a life of a freelance writer who got grants and speaking engagements and great tax deductions.

My submitting life is complicated now.  I am astonished at how expensive submitting fees have gotten to be.  I have problems with a $3 fee, and now many of them are $4 or higher.  Several stamps, paper, and printer ink cost far less in terms of money.  I was one of those people who used to send out poems/stories again and again, on the same paper, so my submission costs were even cheaper.

That said, I do prefer online submissions.  I just don't want to pay so much money for such a slim chance of my creative work being accepted.

This year, I have tech issues that I haven't had before.  I have a new laptop, and I'm realizing how much submitting work I have done in the past from computers that weren't connected to my cloud accounts.  Happily, I'm able to reassemble any work that was stored on a different hard drive--in some ways, Submittable has worked as a different kind of cloud storage.  

Because I've moved and shut down a website, I've needed to change the contact information on all of my documents before I send them out.  My work situation has changed, so I've needed to change that paragraph on my cover letter/bio statement.

So, I started a new folder--it will be easier that way.  I'll know that everything in the folder has been updated, and if I'm away from my process for several months, I won't have to re-examine it all again.

Of course, if I'm away for several months, I'll lose some opportunities.  One way that submitting now is different from the days when I folded pages into envelopes:  so many journals are open for such a small window of time.

Let me not waste this open window!