Bowling and Eating Alone

Since I have been at Waterloo, I've been learning a lot. And not just about international relations. Since I have been living here, I've been thinking a lot about the idea of community- particularly when it comes to meals.

I'll give you a little background.

I moved in with a girl that I found on a grad-housing board. She's great- but she is busy and until last week, we didn't even have a couch, let alone a kitchen table. So, without any kind of common sitting space, and not knowing each other very well, my roommate and I have had good talks in the kitchen and in passing, and while making meals if we both happen to be home at the same time- but we have not sat down and ate together.

So, sometimes I eat alone at my desk in my room...sadly, watching 'The Hills' on mtv.ca - don't judge- we don't have cable! Cooking for one person isn't very fun either- I cook healthy, but boring and easy dinners.

However, it's not all doom and gloom because there have been a number of days that I have been lucky to have friends to have dinner with. One night I met Lauren G at Bomber, another night Laur came over and we ate dinner and drank wine on my floor, Steph, Jus and Steeper and I have met twice for meals and that has been good for my soul. Last weekend, Amanda had everyone over to her place for a birthday dinner- and the night before that Sim, Nik, Amanda and I made dinner and pie together after apple picking. Tonight, I had a really nice dinner with two girls from my program in between two events related to our collective research. It was particularly cool, because we had a chance to talk about the upcoming provincial election- a topic few people are overly interested in.

I tell you all this because I don't think it's good for a person to eat alone. All enjoyment is removed from the process of preparing a meal for just one's self- for me, mostly because I am tired, rushing in from a long day, and eating simply becomes a necessity- and when I eat by myself, it is a stark reminder that I am alone.

Tomorrow night some of my girl friends are coming over for dinner and I can't wait. Eating together provides a forum for good conversation and for nourishment for more than just the body. Whether it's been a great week or a terrible week, there is something about gathering together that feels as though we are doing something that we are meant to do.

We live in a culture where individualism is valued and praised. We have a certain amount of respect for those who don't need to depend on anyone, who live a sort of "Marlboro man" type existence. I think we have somehow fooled ourselves by assuming that leading an unassisted life is glamourous. It's not glamourous- and while you may have less dishes to wash, it's sad.

I have never really thought about the impact of eating alone, or even really spending a significant amount of time alone before because I have never experienced it. I have always lived with groups of friends, at camp, in tree planting communities or with my family. But, I bet a lot of people have never really known anything else. I imagine that there must be a myriad of people out there who work all day and come home to empty houses, or even people who come home to their spouses, but might as well live in an empty house. Loneliness is the pandemic of North America.

Political scientist Robert Putnam in his provocative work, "Bowling Alone" discusses the significant decrease in American's involvement in team activities or sports (voluntary organizations or civil society). The idea behind his title, is that while numerically MORE Americans are bowling, less people are bowling in teams- they just go to the bowling alley and bowl alone. His work focuses on the implications of this in the marco political sphere- but I think my point is also demonstrated.

A lot of people probably go home and eat alone after they finish bowling alone.

I realize that I am so lucky to have people to share my life with- and a lot of my meals. Around the table (or on the floor) we can share about our day, remember that the world doesn't revolve around us- and most importantly just BE with each other. I am also reminded of the countless people that maybe don't have friends to keep them company or to cook for. I want to try to be more mindful of people that might be lonely in this way- and I want to invite them to my house for dinner- because I am positive that it would be better than any episode of 'The Hills' ever could be.

Happy 23rd Birthday Amanda!

To my beautiful friend:

Hoping you have the best birthday yet, and an even better year! Thank you for your friendship and for all the ways that you have taught me about love, grace and trust through example and over late night tea. The world got a little better the day you were born and I feel so lucky to be your friend. I'm looking forward to a lifetime of friendship and many more birthdays to come!
Love,
Cait

To be known

Today I was looking at a poster sale in the student centre on campus. I was looking at the different prints by various artists and began to think a bit about what it means to be known. One of the posters in particular stood out to me. It was a painting of the back of a woman's head. Her hair was up, and her hands we around the back of her neck. It was really quite beautiful. Another poster was just a sketch of a woman. Very free hand, but also very beautiful. At first I imagined the artists who created these works. I imagined that they had seen beauty in these women and wanted to capture a piece of it, as to make it timeless. But then, I thought, how must have the artist's subjects have felt? To be immortalized in some small fashion, to have some one examine every detail of you, as to not make any mistakes. I imagine as if they would have felt very honoured.
Now, I realize that just because someone paints a picture of you, or captures a beautiful moment on film does not make you "known"- but the more I began to think about this idea, the more it seemed true. We want people to see us for who we really are and to understand us at such a deep level that we don't even have words to express it.
It's funny that we go to such a great extent to express ourselves- to have 'favourites' - to spend a lot of time describing our interests, musical tastes and favourite quotes on things like facebook, that we feel hurt when we remember someone's name, but they forget ours, that we want our opinion to be heard and respected in the classroom, that there is something so deep and beautiful about knowing the little idiosycracies of the ones we love, and that we delight when the those we love know all of the little details about us.

We are people that long to be known.

The Psalms tell us that God has searched us as and that he knows us (Ps 139:1)- yet David still cries out to God and says, "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts" (Ps 139:23).

In a perfect world, there would be no longing to be known. I mean, I guess there wouldn't be a longing for anything. There is a line in a Brooke Fraser song that I think is very beautiful that says,

"I will sigh and with all creation groan
As I wait for hope to come for me."

I like the idea that hope comes for us, but for the longest time, before I read the lyrics, I thought she was saying, "as I wait for hope to conform me." I want this hope that I have- not only the hope that one day I will be truly known, but also hope that one day I will truly have eyes that can see others and that the world will be restored, and that love really will win- I want it to conform me now- I'm not even sure if I understand what it means for hope to conform me- but I like it. I want the hope I have for the future to change the way I see things today.

I think I have figured out that I will never be able to be known to the extent that I desire to- and I don't think that you will ever be known the way you want to- not here anyway. And while I understand that God knows every single detail, our humanity and the world we're in prevent us from having the perfect relationship with God that we so long for. But, Brooke Fraser's lyrics remind me that hope exists for that very reason. Hope doesn't exist in perfection, there is no need for it. But for now, while we wait and long to be known and understood- we hope.

I think that the bridge of Brooke Fraser's song* so perfectly says what we are to do in the meantime:

We, we re not long here
Our time is but a breath
So we better breathe it
And I, I was made to live
I was made to love
I was made to know You

Hope is coming for me.



So, until the time comes when we hope no more, and we no longer need to find ways to show our souls to others, let's hope in confidence. And lets have eyes that look for God and all his glory in every corner of our lives.


As per usual, my thoughts seem to be so jumbled. My apologies. I want to include a couple photographs that I have of people in my life who are so important and lovely to me- I feel as though sometimes, through art, we are able to capture just a little bit of a person's beauty, mystery and value.











*painting at the top is by Salvador Dali
* C.S. Lewis Song, by Brooke Fraser

The Messy Digestion of Labels

A few weeks ago at camp, I had a great discussion with my co-counsellor about words and how we identify ourselves by them. We were talking about the word 'Christian' and my friend was saying how words and labels, while necessary in some respect, are also completely limiting. We were talking about how when I define myself by any given title, what I think that title represents, might be completely different than the person that I am speaking with. For example, someone might call themselves a "Christian" because they feel like they have been "saved" and have "accepted Jesus into their hearts". This is incredibly problematic because it assumes that those around us understand that the label ("Christian") is based on the same factors as we assume it is. It becomes even more complicated when we start to question the assumptions behind the labels as well. What does it mean to be "saved" etc... Another person might assume that a Christian is someone who follows that wayof Jesus...well, what is the way of Jesus, etc.

Secondly, labels put people in boxes. Recently, a person I was working with constantly brought up the fact that she was a teacher. "I am a teacher", she'd say. I think she probably did this to give her insights and opinions some more weight and value- despite the fact that this wasn't necessary. It was weird to me that she kept reminding us of what she did- because we would have valued her opinion if she was an accountant or a cashier as well. It seemed silly that she kept referring to herself this way because really, she is a lot more than a teacher- she's a person. And people are complex creatures that cannot be defined by how they pay their bills or what they have been trained to do.

The thing about labels is that sometimes they say more about what you AREN'T than what you are. Not to be too relativist, but it's important to realize, like I said above, that it is very rare that those around us even share common definitions of the words and titles that we use in everyday conversation. An easy way to demonstrate this is to ask a random group of people what the word environmentalist, feminist, activist, green, vegetarian, religious, radical, revolutionary or peacemaker means to them. I guarantee you that everyone will say something slightly different.

I am not exactly sure where I am going with all of this. I'm not trying to argue that we need to drop labels all together- maybe we need ways to catagorize people and thoughts to make sense of the world around us. However, maybe the more we label, the more we actually misunderstand people...maybe the more we catagorize, the LESS we actually understand who a person is. I am realizing that even when I label myself something, the people around me are going to interpret what I call myself through their own lens, perspective and experiences.
It's all very complicated.

I wonder what it would be like if the only label that I had for myself and those around me was "person" - or even better, "person worthy of love"...

Imagine.

And of course, as I have been thinking about how words can be very limiting and harmful to our understanding of ourselves and those around us, I have also been reminded about how words can also be beautiful and meaningful and can speak to us on a deep level.

I love the idea of the imagry of words. I heard a song recently, written by a girl I know that says, "open wide and digest deep." I have never been told the thought process behind her lyrics, but I know that for me, those words have played on repeat in my head as I have been going about my life. And the idea of digesting love and knowledge and pain- has become very real and beautiful. Digest deep.

Likewise, on the painting that my friend painted for me (shown above), there is a line that says that there is a tree of life that is "planted firmly in the messy soils of love." Ahhh, and I just love that idea- because I think about soil and how when you put your hands in the earth and dig, it's dirty. But it is also so, so satisfying- and necessary for things to grow. The messy soils of love- just words, but somehow profound enough for them rumble through my head and give me a tangible picture of what love is made up of.

It's late and I feel like I have made a poor connection between my two thoughts. Please excuse the rambling.

If you get nothing else from the time you've wasted reading this, know that you are a person worthy of love- and be conscious of the words around you that speak art and truth into your life.

A New Leaf

I've moved to Waterloo and officially become a poor graduate student. This big change has definitely been the onset for a lot of thinking. It's weird when it appears as though everyone in your life stays static but everything around you changes. I don't overly enjoy change- but perhaps ironically, I love adventure. These past couple of days have felt like I have recaptured my independence a bit. I spent so much time last year learning about the importance of putting relationships and people first. I learned that we are designed to be dependent on each other. It's interesting though, as I am realizing that independence is in some ways the other side of the same coin. Yesterday, a good friend of mine left a beautiful painting on my doorstep that she had painted. It's a stunning piece of art and she made it for ME- it's an abstract-ish tree with deep roots and interwoven branches. This painting reminds me of where I come from, who my people are and highlights the fact that I have a huge group of people who I love and who love me. Yet, while I am dependent on my friends and family in a non-tangible sense, I have really felt a sense of my 'aloneness' these past couple of days. Not alone in the bad sense of the word, but in the fact that I have to set up hydro accounts, find my way around a giant university, cook for myself, navigate through hoards of terrible paper work, find out where the nearest coffee shop is- all of these practical things. I am learning to do things on my own. And like I mentioned above, I think this is possible because I come from such a loving family (in the exteneded sense of the word).

So, here I am. In Waterloo...sitting in the student centre- watching a LOT of people walk around wearing hardhats and waving flags (weeeeird!)- and I am ok with it. I am excited/anxious/ready to see why the heck I thought it was a good idea to come here. I feel like I have chosen to go to graduate school for a reason and I feel like eventually I will understand what that reason is.

Thank God for the peace that is sometimes gifted to us. And for change and the unknown, that keeps us on our toes and ensures that we don't think we've got all the answers or everything figured out.