Stage Fright

It's only 5 days before I leave for the Camino. And with many things happening personally, I barely have time to absorb the frenetic news of the world.

A big party will be held at our house for my sister a couple days after I return. Work projects are getting negotiated. Different loose ends with the ministries I participate in are getting resolved. Car maintenance, of course, rears itself at this inopportune time. Family issues are out there, including a funeral that I'll be missing for Stephen's uncle. I still need to do one more training day for my walk. I want to spend some good quality time with Stephen before I leave. With all that, I acknowledge that the level of anxiety is much higher than I prefer at this time of preparation.

As you can see, I have things that pre-occupy me. But that's not new. We all have an array of concerns swirling in our head. It's possible that the emotion that I'm sensing and attributing to my Camino actually arises from these day to day issues.

But I do think there's something about the anxiety and excitement surrounding the Camino that is unique and remains even though this is my fifth trip back to Santiago de Compostela. It's akin to what seasoned actors must feel when, before getting in front of the camera or on stage, there's still that tingling feeling of nervousness. Many think stage fright affects only the amateur actor or speaker, but it can and, perhaps, should affect everyone.

When an actor goes out on stage, they're exposing themselves. They're vulnerable. As artists, there's an exploration of a character's personality, emotion, and behaviour. Their goal is to portray their character with truth and integrity, even and especially if the character is without any truth or integrity.

Isn't that similar to what a pilgrim does? As pilgrims, we seek to be immersed in truth, integrity, beauty; to walk in the footsteps of love and of humanity; to encounter timeless revelations about who we are and what God intended us to be.

And that's scary.

So yes, I'm still anxious about this Camino. Yes, I'm still excited. Yes, I'm still nervous. And yes, I'm still wondering if I'm ready or if I need another rehearsal or two. 

Coincidentally, each day's leg of a Camino is called a "stage". The Camino Frances from St. Jean Pied-de-Port, for example, is typically 33 stages (33 days). My customized Camino of 350 km (I think) will be over 12 stages. I've incorporated various rest/prayer days at the beginning. But it's always the first and second days that create the most anxiety. The first day because you're testing the waters. The second day is actually problematic because you're usually tired from the first day and are thinking "Wait, what, I have to walk again?"

Whether the stage fright hits you as an actor or as a pilgrim, the goal still remains. Each stage is a step towards truth, a platform to discover the nature of mankind and of God, and an opportunity to dig deep into the soul. And that objective grounds me, allowing me to set aside my fears. With fellow actors and fellow pilgrims, we can and do seek together. We laugh, fear, and cry together. And we stumble into insight into who we are and what we can be. Stage fright... what a blessing!

Is your Journey an Adventure?

I saw this image on the web and had to share it, as it caused me to think. It's about adventure, and the Camino de Santiago, the whole journey of life for that matter, is an adventure.

The picture is certainly a bit of fun with a whole lot of tongue in cheek about adventure. And, I hope you don't have to worry about cutting off an arm.

Yet many times we worry about our difficulties and focus in on them, forgetting about the happiness we encounter. When deeply involved with those troubling times, we might not even see the joys of life around us. They're there, but we obsess about the tough parts.

I certainly can get that way. Once I'm in pain or things aren't going as planned, I start worry about contingencies. Even if there's nothing I can do for the moment, it's all I seem to think about. In the end, though, as the picture suggests, if we aren't about to die, then it might not be as bad as we think. And, it might even add to the adventure.

I recall the many difficulties I've had while traveling on vacation, on Camino, through life... They weren't fun at the time, and yet today, I sit back and tell stories about what happened. How I hurt or was scared or angry. In the rear view mirror, it doesn't look as menacing as when I was in it at the moment.

So I'm try not to stay in that "are you about to die" moment, trying not to micromanage an outcome, to control what cannot be controlled. The world needs us to be present with each other, as well as with the trials testing us. If we can approach life and each other as the adventure that never stops exciting us, I think we'll find ourselves less fearful of the daily threats and troubles around us. We'll be able to see both sides, the unsettling side AND the joyful side.

And then, then we can take pictures to remember, stories to tell... and post them on Instagram.

Be Not Afraid

Playful in the crypts below Lima, Peru's cathedral. January, 2012.

There's nothing to fear but fear itself.

Don't be a scaredy-cat.

Over and over throughout the Bible, we're told to fear not.  (Except when God's pissed off. Then yeah, be fearful.)

All this courage and fearlessness is thrust upon us. We're supposed to have a strong spine, a stiff upper lip.

And yet. in many ways, it's a tough sell for me. We do have fears. Some carry angst over monsters, others clowns and dolls, some over violence in our streets, and still others criminals. Apparently, many fear even people of a different ethnicity or culture, walking on the other side of the street. That's fear. That's real.

And even the Biblical exhortation to be not afraid can be rough. Don't be afraid? It's not easy when you watch the news. And even if you're faithful, don't be fearful ... unless God's mad? It's like a menacing parent who says they love you but won't hesitate to whip you silly if you don't fall in line. That fear is intrinsically mixed in with love, and frankly it's hard to find that sort of relationship anywhere close to being unconditional love. You see that more in horror movies involving kidnappers. A simple understanding of Biblical courage might be unpersuasive.

Besides, humans as a rule don't like to be genuinely afraid, so we don't need to be reminded to be courageous. Instead, avoid fear, transform fear, deflect fear. We act out in anger and aggression in order to avoid situations and feelings of fear. True fear debilitates and we, in our fight or flight reactions, show that we will do whatever it takes to reduce these terrible feelings. And when we can't evade the horrors of life, anxiety and/or depression settles in to offset the enormous negative energy. Counterproductive as it might seem, but negative emotions are sometimes the only way to counteract other negative emotions.

And then there's Halloween.

It's a holiday that, when I was a kid, was surrounded by mirth and mild fear. Increasingly, it became one of terror, where haunted houses migrated from the corny to bloodbaths. This holiday is now worth 8-10 billion dollars each year in the USA. Thanksgiving is worth less than 3 billion, not including travel. The numbers alone might cause the blood to drain from your face.

By definition, the word Halloween comes from the phrase All Hallow's Eve (All Holy's Eve). All Saints Day is November 1 and All Souls Day (for those who haven't quite made it to sainthood) follows on November 2. The night before, or Eve of, All Saints Day, like the Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve, is a time to begin celebrations. The concept of Halloween shifted from focus on Saints and Souls in all their holiness to the dead. More than that, it's moved to the terrifying.

Why do we do this? What is the joy in creating fear in others? The mild stimulation certainly can raise adrenaline. There's also the merriment associated with giving someone a playful fright, a "boo!" moment. Some enjoy gory movies and entertainment, and Halloween provides a date as a focal point for such diversions. Looking around me, I think we can agree that this is the most common situation.

In contrast, we have some who feel that all this is utterly satanic in every respect. They assert that any enjoyment of the dead, the monsters, the blood, and the costumes celebrate a pagan and demonic heritage. I'm not in agreement with these folks, as the history I've described clearly has ties to the remembrance of the saints and the dead.

I think that Halloween has become our subconscious effort to make light of death, to create opportunities for cathartic release, for us to admit our fears and release the rage that would otherwise become manifest if left unchecked.

We aren't calling up demons from other worlds. We're dispatching demons inside ourselves.

My Halloween costumes, when I dress up, have been one of three types: the victim, the maniacal, and the fictional or historical human character. The one exception to these tendencies is that I once dressed as the Grim Reaper. It might be boring, but I prefer to get a laugh or a wry smile out of my costume rather than a frightful chill.

Do I miss out on the catharsis? I'm not sure. I enjoy the efforts of others to induce the fear, but I don't feel the need to immerse in it. It's almost as though there's too much in the real world to create real fear. What subconscious-clearing monster must I confront that can top the horrors of today's news headlines?

Others though enjoy the fright. And I give them latitude in that delight. If that fright lessens the existential or all-to-present dread that permeates our every day life, then I'm in favor of it.

Biblical exhortations to be not afraid aren't meant to eliminate simplistic, superficial fears after all. I think they are intended to root out our real fears and our faith-killing monsters. The opposite of faith isn't doubt. Doubt is often a key indicator of an underlying and powerful faith.

No, the opposite of faith is fear. Real fear. Because when we are afraid, we cannot love. And when we cannot love, we cannot follow the one and only commandment given to us by Christ: to love one another.

So let's give ourselves a fun "boo!", a playful surprise, a well meaning monster. Or, if you're like me, dress up like Harry Potter, or a judge, or road kill. Let's be joyful, knowing that our reverence for the dead might be helped when we acknowledge, admit, and embrace that death and the unknown are indeed frightening.

And let's hold hands as we ask for love, blessings, and candy. We won't be afraid, if we walk hand in hand, knowing that we have each other's love for all eternity.

Blessings over Fear

A visit to Lourdes - Sep 2015

I took my parents on a trip to Spain (and France, Portugal, and Andorra) last month. It's the third time I've taken them to Europe. Each time has been one where I gave a gift out of love and gratitude. They paid for my study abroad back when I was an undergraduate. We didn't have much and certainly this just added to their debts at the time.

My time at Oxford was transformative. It was as though my eyes were opened to beauty and possibilities I hadn't expected. True the food was terrible beyond the pale. I exaggerate not. I didn't know vegetables could be boiled so thoroughly that they could look whiter than beyond pale. But the museums, art, people, and opportunity to experience a different culture affected me deeply and I cherish what I learned and continue to learn on every trip I take to this day.

So I thank them with these trips. This one was their first trip to Spain, a particularly meaningful one because our ancestors came to the Philippines from Spain.

I blog this because as with any time you put parents and with their post-adolescent children together, you have an opportunity for conflict. Much as I try to be a caring child, it's human nature to have disagreements with someone who raised you with firm advice. Much as I cherished the time and valued the blessings and opportunity to spend three weeks with my parents, there were moments when I felt as though I were 14 years old again. I'm sure I was a pill then and I definitely could be tough to swallow when I'm petulant or angry now.

The feelings are worsened when mortality is brought into the mix. None of us live forever. Much as I want my parents to be around, I know at some point I must say goodbye to them. Or, far worse, they have to say goodbye to me. Statistically and from family health history, there's much to make me feel that I need to gird myself for the inevitable. Hence, the trip was a great way to learn more about ourselves and to share in our time.

But I said that's how feelings are made worse. I for one may intellectually accept what will some day come, but emotionally it's not easy. And whenever I saw evidence that my parents were slowing down, or not are more forgetful than in the past, or are ignoring dietary proscriptions by their physicians, I experience the role reversal that often accompanies caring for aging parents. I heard myself scolding for bad eating and getting frustrated by forgetfulness. I've learned to accept the physical slowing down, but then get overly cautious when we aren't slowing down enough.

My mom is the most formidable woman I know. Whenever we moved, she started with entry level jobs yet always rose to be a leader. She finally retired as the Executive Director of the non-education parts of Stanford and Cal State LA. Dad started his professional career as an attorney and became a banker. Even after he retired, and returned to work as a part time teller to keep stave off boredom, he sometimes sold more new accounts than full time staff, winning trips for his successes. And yet he's still strong in his 80s, wanting to carry luggage when I could be doing so for him. Both of them worked all their lives, 2-3 jobs each, just to get us our education here in the USA.

So it bothers me to watch them slow down from the peaks of their careers. And I didn't understand why I was frustrated and angry during the first week of the trip. It took that week to realize that I was getting angry because I was masking my real feelings.

I was frightened.

Fearful of the signs of aging they were showing.

Afraid of someday saying goodbye to them.

And like most men, I resist fear and transform it into other emotions. The fear became anger and frustration.

Once I realized what I was doing, it became easier to accept my feelings. I was, after all, on this trip to enjoy my time with them and share with them the land of our ancestors. What I feared can not be avoided. So stories were told, memories shared, and we were able to experience a trip with the power of healing and transformation that we all wanted to have.

I watched Mom and Dad at Lourdes. They watched others in wheelchairs, on crutches, in arms of others as they processed into several masses for blessings. They did not want to be among those who seemed more needy, as if their needs were any less than the next person. But I understood. They've always deferred to those more needy and this was no different.

I waded into the stream of Lourdes and let my fears flow out of me into the waters. Some view blessing as the transmittal of a prayer or God's grace to someone. But on that day, on this trip, I realized that to be filled with grace and love, I needed to make room in my soul for that love.

The fear had to be released.

An opening needed to be created.

My mind and heart had to wade into the thin space.

And in the darkened void I created but feared, from that willful purgation into the stream at Lourdes, I made room for grace. I stepped out of myself and found fresh air. And with my parents on this trip, I felt the blessing come into me.

Sometimes Love Sounds a Little Crazy

This painting by Tanner might be my favorite piece in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It shows a perfectly typical girl somewhere from the Middle East. This Mary is not at all the fair-haired, blue eyed damsel found in typical Renaissance paintings.

The whole painting is so realistic to me. Mary herself in particular looks utterly true. She's darker, for one.

And scared.

And puzzled.

And maybe even sarcastic. As in, "You're joking, right?"

After all, what sane, sensible girl wouldn't be shocked by the visit of some apparition telling her that she will soon be carrying a special child.

What sane, sensible girl wouldn't be horrified by how her family will feel when they find out? And don't even go there when it comes to telling her boyfriend. If they had slang in those days, which every language does, I'm sure she'd be thinking something akin to "WTF"?

I know I would.

The colors, textures, and shadows of the painting intensify the feelings that she seems to be having. This isn't the happy, glowing Mary we usually think about when we hear about the coming of Jesus. We are told that the story of the coming of unfettered love and compassion. Advent leads to Christmas and throughout this season we are eagerly waiting for this amazing love.

But maybe that's just as mistaken an impression as those Renaissance paintings. I look around and I'd say that most every active Christian in America, especially those who are involved in churches, are frantically busy trying to do what others are doing -- shopping, celebrating, gathering, traveling -- and be active in their churches at the same time. It's frantic and busy and often times less than that picture of perfect love.

Our world today is equally frightened. The political situation in American much less in other parts of our often-times dangerous world offers challenges even to the most wide-eyed optimist.

Yet, love is there waiting to be discovered. We have so much potential to welcome love and grace into our lives, if we move beyond the fear.

I view Mary and Joseph not as awed adults as is portrayed in paintings and media, but as incredibly brave teenagers. Maybe they're a bit like most young adults I meet today: fearless to the point that they behave as though they are immortal. They face the challenge put to them by their visions head-on.

Because love demands it. Love isn't meant to be seen from sideways glances. It's the full embrace, the bear hug, the never-gonna-let-you-go squeeze that comforts. You can't get that by being coy. And you can't see it or even notice that it's there if you're afraid.

I'm in a discerning mood right now. I feel and hear things that call out to me that have frightened me. It didn't dissipate upon my marriage. It didn't disappear upon walking the Camino de Santiago. No, in fact, it got stronger and reinforced. I see this painting and I'm wondering if that's me cowering in the corner.

I look and pray to Mary and Joseph to show me what fearless love looks like. And I invite you to pray for the love that knows no limits into your lives, regardless of your fears. You and I weren't meant to fear the invitation to love. If we know love is there waiting, we must get past our darkest nights and see the light that is to come.

Advent Meditation: Soft vs Hard, Natural vs Man-made, Love vs Fear.

Cloud and Chichenitza pyramid, Mexico. Mel Soriano 2014-11-30

I've been contemplating why this photo struck me so strongly as I took it last week while I was traveling in Mexico. It's basically a corner of the main pyramid at Chichenitza and the cloud behind it. I took many photos that day, but I focused on this one in part because it highlighted an interesting contrast to me. At that time, it was just the difference between soft vs hard materials. But more than that, it meant something deeper, and I gazed at it in wonder. It attracted me more than I understood at that time.

This morning, a comment by one of my best high school friends on Facebook gave a clue as to why I liked it so much. Glenn pointed out that it was also a contrast between the natural and the man-made. Finally, it all started to make sense.

Juxtapositions like this happen all the time but do we really pay attention to the contrast as it happens before our eyes? What might seem simple and direct might actually be connecting at a deeper level, yet we sometimes move on before we have a chance to fully appreciate and understand what is before us. In this instance, the cloud and pyramid weren't just material textures that contrasted, but represented much more, especially during this troublesome Advent season.

The natural is floating so gently in this photo, with elusive, indefinite boundaries. The edges in fact change constantly: it's a cloud after all. The pyramid has striations laid out by man. Strong lines mark every step with heavy burgeoning stones. The soft versus strict lines are as disparate as, say, the concept of justice to Jean Valjean compared to Inspector Javert in Les Miserables. One is difficult to define, the other easily precise.

In addition to the lines, you also have a temporal contrast. Clouds are ephemeral, transient, elusive. They float by and change shapes while you stare at them. What might look like one thing can transform and suddenly you realize it looks like something else. The pyramid, however, is permanent and unchanging. It's ancient. Really ancient. It's so unchanging that the Chichenitza pyramid was lost and forgotten in the jungles for centuries before it was re-discovered. And of course, it hadn't changed during that time.

You also have a marked contrast in origin. The cloud is a gift from God, the source of life, a sign of nourishment, a spigot of life-giving water. It shades from the sun and recedes after it gives of its gift. The pyramid on the other hand is wholly man-made as a gift TO the gods. It's a way to reach towards the heavens, but not to inspire connectivity with gods. Instead, it perpetuates fear of the gods and was a way to make sacrifices to those angry gods. Rather than affirming life, the pyramid was the site where lives were taken to placate and appease. By dispensing with a few, the larger masses felt better, safer, shielded from wrath.

I already had my morning prayers today, but they were focused on the troubling state of affairs in our country in regards to police and ethnic minorities.  My prayers were also on the horrifying revelations found in the torture report regarding the CIA's "enhanced interrogation" techniques. In my name, I feel sin is committed every day. In my supposed security (unfounded as the report shows), people were tortured and minorities are killed without due process. As a way to appease the fearful, our government high priests have deemed it acceptable to maim, intimidate, threaten, terrorize. Where is the Holy Spirit when you need Her? How do you prepare for Christmas with this stain?

So thank you Glenn for digging out of the jungle of my mind the reason the photo struck me so strongly. I prayed, pray, and will pray for a day when we reach out to our God of love and no longer need to build temples of fear. I prayed, pray, and will pray for a day when we no longer need to sacrifice our own to appease the gods, as a cover for the fact that we are just appeasing our own human fears. And I prayed, pray, and will pray for a day when we can look at these monuments of injustice we see today as mere stepping stones to a heaven filled with grace.

May your Advent be lit by the candle of light and life.

Praying for the sacrificed at Chichenitza pyramid, Mexico.
Mel Soriano 2014-11-30