it's the end of the world as we know it and i feel fine (it's time i had some time alone)

remember that you are dust: it's a stark and somewhat morbid thing to have said to you, let alone individually, let alone while someone's smudging ashes onto your forehead. i'm not one for fire-and-brimstone or catholic guilt or whatever else, but i like this reminder. it's simple and to the point. you were made from bits and pieces of other stuff, and that's what you're going to be later on. there's no need for ego, because we're all in the same boat. simply recongize that you are profoundly lucky (or blessed; take your pick) to have had the chance to be more than dust for a while.

we're now well beyond the holiday season, it's february, most people have come to terms with the fact that obama is actually the president (as opposed to a pop icon), we're still at war, the dollar is worth bupkis, and now it's lent.

in the past, i've always felt somewhat down during this season. it hasn't really been for any particular pious reasons, either. it's mostly that i see people around me giving up things for lent -- things they tend to really like, which results in my having to deal with a bunch of cranky peers -- and i don't. i have reasons for that, but i still feel guilty when people i know give up chocolate or facebook or whatever. most people i know who participate in that whole practice aren't especially religious; for many of them, it's more like a second coming of their nearly-abandoned new year's resolutions. and more power to them. whatever works. it's just not for me.

i went to the ash wednesday service this year for the first time in a long time, and the tone was different from what i remembered. it put the whole lent business into context in a way that made much more sense than how i usually think of it. it's almost like a spiritual spring(ish) cleaning. a month of introspection and reestablishing what's important. which, by the way, is already kind of my Thing at the moment.

there's a whole long list of things to which we all confess at this service. there's a confession each week, but this one is longer and more detailed*, and it gave me pause: what exactly is the point? of confession, and this one in particular, i mean?

if the point is to atone for these various and sundry, uh, transgressions... that's a whole lot of pressure. enough to make it unreasonable. how does one actually atone for all that? not just say some words, but really, truly atone? because we're talking about your soul here. just saying. you can't exactly fake it.

if the point is to focus on the positive side (saying "we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves" becomes "i will love my neighbor as myself"), given the number and the complexity of things we're promising to do, that's also an unreasonable expectation. it's a nice thought, but it's too far-reaching to be attainable, goal-wise. even wild ambition-wise.

how do we go about working with this long, complicated list of things that are incredibly important, but also incredibly daunting as a collective?

as i was driving over to the service, i realized we were running late and the trip became agonizing. i don't act out my road rage (i barely ever use the horn, even), i just yell a lot and say outrageous things, which generally only serves to make myself more tense. once there, we sat directly behind two kids. one was squirmy and noise-making because he didn't want to be there; the other had half his toy collection with him and kept a running commentary going throughout the entire (otherwise very quiet, sober, respectful) service, up to and including a notification that he had farted.

i haven't been to this service in a long time, and i'm a little burned out on kids from working all day, and this kid is announcing his bodily functions, and i'm thinking to myself, okay, perhaps the way to go about this is to start with working on my patience. just that one thing.

i will attempt to pace myself. i will attempt to maintain a sense of perspective. instead of specifically giving up something, i'm spending this lent just letting a lot of things go, picking my battles, and playing them out with a generally more enlightened attitude. it seems like a better way to go through the day. "do without attachment the work you have to do."

at the Taste of Judaism class last night (part 2 of 3... i don't want it to be over), the rabbi mentioned that while prayer is communication with God, its purpose is not so much just asking something of God ("give me the power to do x," "forgive me for x," "bring x into my life," etc.) as it is reflecting on your personal investment in whatever it is you're praying about. in praying about x, i am meditating on what i've done or will do about it, or what someone else has done for me. it's about interactions between people more than divine intervention.

yoga, too, fits in conveniently well: awareness of posture, motion, and breathing; slowing down and paying attention to the details. focus on the self to focus on the bigger picture.

as a bonus, ideally, being more patient will mean less neck cramps and back spasms (fun!), a decrease in the likelihood that i'll eventually have high blood pressure, less wasted time and energy, better sleep at night and better relationships with... everybody?

this is not a declaration of passivity. i'm not advocating letting people walk all over you. but it's easy to get caught up in the moment -- and, there's a growing atmosphere of entitlement and self-importance plaguing individual lives and communication all over this green earth. reminding myself daily that my wants at this moment in time are not necessarily the most important factor up for consideration is... well, at very least, it's just polite.

it's going to be a long 40 days, but that's kind of the point.

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* it's called the Litany of Penitence, which is exactly what it sounds like. it's when:

We confess to [God] and to one another ...

We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven ...
We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us. ...
We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness: the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives ...
Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people ...
Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves ...
Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work ...
Our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us ...
our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty ...
For all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us ...
For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us.

pretty thorough list, yeah?