Indifference does not have to mean apathy. Well, Ignatian indifference is not apathy.
So I learned this Sunday, at the beginning of unpacking a new start in my life with the Ignatian Associates. Ignatian Associates are a lay group of people connected to the Jesuit community. They make three public promises, which I’ve tried to translate a bit for you. Simplicity of Life (seeking to be available to hear the Spirit), Fidelity to the Gospel and to our Associate and Jesuit Companions (intentional Christian community), and Apostolic Availability (saying yes to God whatever the Spirit asks and leads.) All of this as far as I’ve deciphered is (very typically Jesuit) Catholic mumbo-jumbo for a really intense, committed small group. Kind of. Except more intense. Did I mention yet that it’s intense?
For example, the process just to be in formation involved several interviews (group and alone), a psychological evaluation, application with references, and discernment process. Now I’m in formation for two years before I’ll be asked (or not asked) to make those three promises I mentioned above. We’re supposed to be doing like an hour of prayer a day, meet with a spiritual director once a week, and meet three times a month as a group. We’ll also have various retreats and celebrate the sacraments together as a formation community. The formation process is based around St. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises, which we’ll do in a year instead of in the month that religious folk like brothers, priests, or sisters do.
Phew! Ignatian Talk 101. You’re caught up, and now on to the good stuff.
Sunday we talked about indifference… Indifference being the ability to release control of the outcomes of a decision. Not being apathetic or uninterested in the world or in your process, but being able to step outside of your preference and truly trusting God that God knows best. I love this idea, it seems so freeing. It especially feels freeing because I always have an opinion. I imagine that if a Social 1 (me) could make a roadmap of her false self, all the landmarks would be opinions. Seriously. So this idea of having an opinion but working to not make the end result what my opinion about it should be… liberation is at hand!
The practice of indifference allows you to be freed from things that keep you from your end which is “created to praise, reverence and serve God our Lord.” as Ignatius says. Brilliant, awesome, love it.
Calvin makes me art. I love it. The letters he writes are covered in drawings or pictures, colorful quotes and verses. He’s made me beautiful journals and a few other things. He takes great pictures that have made me cry before.
Last week he made this in his art class:
I’m proud of him, I love watching him grow as an artist!
Homemade by Ches with her Grandma’s recipe, assisted by Dave, served at my house. Mmmmm… magic!
And I find chopsticks frankly distressing. Am I alone in thinking it odd that a people ingenious enough to invent paper, gunpowder, kites and any number of other useful objects, and who have a noble history extending back 3,000 years haven’t yet worked out that a pair of knitting needles is no way to capture food? ~Bill Bryson
Ha!
Maybe more applicable:
What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as a child? ~Lin Yutang
Sometimes I like to shout (or mutter under my breath) when I’m frustrated with Quickbooks or something isn’t working in the way I need it to work. Now I need YOUR help to decide what that phrase should be.
One of my ballet teachers in high school told this story about hearing a piece of music in Target and not knowing who the composer was, then she started remembering the choreagraphy and was dancing right there in the store.
Your body remembers.
My mind has forgotten the names of my fellow dancers, my teachers, even differences between the types of ballet I studied in elementary, middle, high school. I don’t remember the names of the moves; is it passé or retiré devant? What is sauté, tombé, pas de basque? Was this a Graham or Jose Limon style?
But my body remembers.
Nothing felt quite right this week. The leotards and tights too revealing, even though I used to sit in a girls dressing room half naked without blinking an eye. The shoes hurt my toes, which aren’t used to being cooped up. I can’t remember what is cool, tights rolled up or down? Long sleeves or short sleeves? Skirt or shorts or black pants to warm up? Hair in a bun or french twist?
But when the music starts my body remembers.
The weight I’ve gained in my thighs the last six “ballet free” years make a good turned out fifth position impossible, you could park a truck between my feet that should be touching heel to toe. I can hardly lift my legs above ninety degrees and it hurts my back to do an arabesque because I’m not used to all that weight stretched out away from the center of my body.
Somehow I still remember.
By thirty minutes into class my head is moving unconsciously in the direction of my arms, and when I turn around on the barre to do the second side, I always turn towards the barre. If I’m going from the corner I know to start on the second eight count and not waste the rest of the class’ time by pausing. I remember to watch closely and mark the exercises with my hands working full out so that the teacher knows I’m paying attention. I use all the music, drawing out the movements to suspend that moment. My feet do extra beats in the air even though I can’t remember the names of the steps. I feel when I’m cheating my posture by letting my hips stick out and how to keep my shoulders down even when they’re aching from being moved in old/new ways. I unconsciously attempt doubles because I forget that I haven’t done a true pirouette in years and I used to be able to pull off a triple or a quadruple when I was really ‘on.’ I get dizzy. Lots of hopping, not very much spinning.
Still, my body remembers. That’s something worth celebrating.
This is what I’m reading at the moment. Would love to hear what you are working on- especially fiction, I need some inspiration, some imagination, some more fun.
Fun:The Bostoniansby Henry James, my quarterlyMcSweeney’s subscription (LOVE IT!), The Children’s Hospital by Chris Adrian (might not finish), The Dude Abides, the Gospel according to the Coen brothers (not yet released, got a new copy! ), and a bunch of sweet stuff in the queue. I’m getting held up by the Bostonians, not the quickest read but I’m committed to seeing it through.
Work:Exclusion & Embrace by Miroslav Volf, Freedom of Simplicity by Richard Foster, Awed to Heaven/Rooted in Earth by Walter Brueggeman
Pray: Seven Sacred Pauses by Macrina Wierdekehr, The Nine Faces of God by Peter Hannan SJ, All Saints:Saints/Prophets/and Witnesses for our Time by Robert Ellsberg, and the book of John/book of Isaiah in the Bible alternating.
Got to talk to the famed Jimmy Jam (aka: Officemate Jimmy) the other day. We agreed that our year together at Pilgrim Manor was awesome, a good formative year of being post-college, first jobs, working in an old supply closet with no windows and having a blast.
I was reminded of how Jimmy James controlled the music but I could make requests. A few cds I liked to play on repeat: Death Cab, Ben Folds, and one by Snow Patrol. He would say “What do you want to listen to today?” I’d say one of those three options, in lieu of any better ideas. James would say “ok, great,” wait for ten minutes until I got sidetracked by something else, and then play whatever he wanted. I never noticed until he told me he was doing it the month before I left.
Hahahaha. Apparently I also used to say “Hey James, you will not believe this!!” and then trail off with distraction, never to finish the story.
), and a bunch of sweet stuff in the queue. I’m getting held up by the Bostonians, not the quickest read but I’m committed to seeing it through.
