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My sabbatical ended on Sunday with a very happy return to UUCPA. But I have one more post to write about what I did on sabbatical.
One thing I thought I might do was get back to the book I began several years ago, and maybe even get it completely finished and ready for publication. I did not, but I moved a few steps along that path. I reconnected with the editor, apologizing for letting it drop (I had never signed a contract, but I had been offered one) and asking whether they were still interested; I had a Zoom meeting with her, in which I learned what I would need to do to get the process re-started; and I got my revised proposal about halfway to readiness for submission. I like all the changes Skinner House has undergone that (along with the passage of time) make it necessary for me to revise it, and I’m sure that if they accept it again, the changes will make it a better book. I’m fairly confident they will accept it. But I have not yet finished the proposal.
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The other addition I want to make to this series is the books I’ve read since I last reported on my reading.
I finished The Covenant of Water (Abraham Verghese) and Justice is Coming (Cenk Uygur).
I finished only a couple of chapters of Goodness and Advice (Judith Jarvis Thomson) and then shelved it with the other philosophy books in my office. I guess I wasn’t up for that much dense philosophy. Earlier in the year, I ground to a similar halt with Re-Enchantment Without Supernaturalism, by David Ray Griffin. With a title like that, I have to go back to it–also, he was a process theologian, and a great teacher from whom I was lucky enough to take a theology class during my one semester at the Claremont School of Theology–but it was slow going. I am in the unfortunate position of being at heart a postmodern theologian without having the head to read postmodern theology.
I read:
Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver. It made me want to reread David Copperfield, which I think I read in high school (I may be imagining that), but I couldn’t do that right away because I had finally gotten hold of the book I’d been impatiently waiting for:
The Fraud, Zadie Smith. I wanted to keep reading Smith after that, so went straight on to
On Beauty, Zadie Smith, which I might have liked even more than The Fraud. They were great in different ways.
Deep History: The Architecture of Past and Present, Andrew Shyrock. I’ve already forgotten what put me on to this book. I read some chapters deeply and skimmed others. It was very interesting.
The Sword of Summer, The Hammer of Thor, and The Ship of the Dead, Rick Riordan’s Magnus Chase trilogy. My daughter had recommended them ages ago when she first got into Riordan. She liked Percy Jackson best; that’s Greek mythology, and I liked it but I have a particular love for the Norse myths, which is the milieu of this trilogy. I finally got around to them and gobbled them up like buttered popcorn.
Also fun, easy reading: Killers of a Certain Age, Deanna Raybourn.
Let’s see, that’s going backwards. What did I read more recently? Oh right.
The rest of the assigned books for my grad school course: How to Lead When you Don’t Know Where You’re Going, Susan Beaumont; The Art of Relevance,Nina Simon; and The Church Cracked Open, Stephanie Spellers. We were also assigned Salsa, Soul, and Spirit, by Juana Bordas, but I had read it for a course the previous fall, so that was just a skim.
The Angel’s Game and The Prisoner of Heaven, Carlos Ruiz Zafón. I did not read them in Spanish, though a UUCPA member assures me I could do it. These are the second and third books in his series about the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, so the last one, The Labyrinth of Spirits, is on my must-read-soon list.
Most of Music is History, Questlove. Thanks to my mom for recommending this one. Not only has he forgotten far more than I’ll ever know about popular music in the United States, but his thoughts on history itself are deep and fascinating. I let it go back to the library before I was finished, but I’ll resume it one of these days.
Passage, Connie Willis. This one-off, with its serious inquiry into the nature of death, was so, so good that I had to dive back into Willis, so I read two of her Oxford Time Travel series I hadn’t read yet:
Blackout and All Clear. They are really two halves of the same book, as I learned when I started reading All Clear and felt like I had plunked myself down in the middle of something. I had; it should be labeled Volume 2. I had to go get Blackout (unlike All Clear, we didn’t own it) and start from the beginning, and I was really glad I did. Willis has successfully implanted her version of London in the Blitz in my mind, to the extent that I could ask an actual survivor of the Blitz what it was like and I might look askance at them if their version contradicted hers. That’s historical fiction for you. Hers is so well-done that I have to remind myself that she wasn’t there either. She’s just trying to bring it to life for those of us who were born at a later date.
“The Fall of the House of Usher,” Edgar Allan Poe, which I reread because the television version was the talk of the internet. I love his lush, dense prose, but it didn’t make me want to watch the show, or read more Poe, for that matter. Sorry, Edgar.
Since Christmas, when I gave and got a pile of books: The latest No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency book, From a Far and Lovely Country, Alexander McCall Smith; A Study in Drowning, Ava Reid. Joy picked books for us based on the recommendations of Alix E. Harrow, since all of us liked her novels. Harrow is right; Reid is an excellent writer; but this one was for young adults, and it had one of the failings to which young adult fantasy (though not Riordan’s) is prey: the strikingly beautiful young female protagonist is so clueless about love that she keeps having experiences where suddenly noticing that she can feel the main male character’s breath makes her flush, “for some reason,” and she wishes he would stay in her room awhile longer, “for some reason,” and he looks at her for an uncomfortably long time, “for some reason,” until I start to have fantasies of being a young-adult-fantasy editor so that I could hit Ctrl-F, search for “for some reason,” and delete its every appearance. This one was particularly egregious because before she started crushing on him, she found a piece of paper where he had written her name over and over, and it still came as a surprise to her that he was crushing on her. No one in the real world is that naive. The plot was a bit of a mess, too, but despite all of this, she is a writer I’ll watch for. There was just so much there that made me want to keep reading.
And on our way to Solvang just after Christmas, I downloaded a few books I was willing to read or reread, hoping the fam would all agree on one. They did: The Book of Form and Emptiness, Ruth Ozeki. So I reread it, first listening en route, then finishing it via audio and eyes after we got home. What a great book. The only problem with Ozeki is that she can’t write as fast as I can read, and I am forever impatient for her next book.
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Finally, I assure anyone who has read this series of posts and thought “Did she sleep at all during sabbatical?” that I did, as late as I wanted to most days, and that I also took time to do two crosswords (New York Times and Washington Post) almost every day, and also do my daily Spelling Bee, Connections, Wordle, and Quordle. I didn’t think my word games took that much time until this week, when I got back to work and my Spelling Bee game really began to suffer. I wrote this series of posts because I have an overwhelming tendency to look back at opportunities like this and think I wasted them (anxiety: it’s the fun mental disorder!). I needed to document, for my own sake, what I’ve been doing, so that I could look back on these posts and reassure myself that I did not waste the time.
And it is totally legit for sabbatical to be a time of relative relaxation. For me, the biggest stress reliever is simply not having anything I must do. Reading–even books that are pretty heavy, slow going–and making art and playing piano and going to the gym are all challenging in their way, but like the Sunday crosswords, they are the challenges I enjoy. The daily tasks of maintaining a household also continue during sabbatical, but add next to no stress when they aren’t competing with work. So for six months, I could sleep until I was ready to wake, then go up the hill to the gym, then come back and fold and put away a load of laundry, then play piano, without feeling like I was stealing time from my job. I could sit down at the art table at 10 pm and not go to bed until 12 without worrying that I was going to be exhausted during the next day’s meetings.
Now, to add the job back in without unbalancing myself: that’s the next joyful challenge.
I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed
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When I started planning my sabbatical, I thought, “Ooh, I’ll have all this time. I could take two classes at United rather than my usual one per term.” I quickly realized that this would soak up a great deal of the time freed by sabbatical, that there is no hurry to move through my program, and that I should stick with just one course. So I did: The Arts for Leadership (the course description and syllabus is probably viewable on one of the lists here, though maybe not when you read this, since the course lists change with each semester). Assuming that the final project I turned in a couple of weeks ago was satisfactory, I have completed three credits, putting me 1/3 of the way to the DMin degree. The last three credits are the dissertation and, immediately preceding it, the DMin Practicum and the Research Tools and [Dissertation] Proposal. So I have only three more courses before that process begins, which feels rather sad since there are at least half a dozen courses I am itching to take. (One of United’s perks for its graduates is that we can audit courses for free, so I can carry on that way.)
The purpose of the DMin degree is highly pragmatic, as a rule: while one’s dissertation must be academically rigorous, the aim is less to produce original scholarship and more to learn something that one can apply in one’s ministry. This semester’s course was organized the same way, with the final project being the outline of a plan (integrating the arts and leadership, of course) that we could then implement in our setting. My plan is to facilitate the creation of a mural by guests of three programs for unhoused people that UUCPA hosts, literally putting their vision for the wider community before everyone’s eyes. So this course was a perfect fit with the sabbatical, since it sends me back to UUCPA with a plan in hand for a project that I think will work really well in our congregation. The fact that this was my course this semester was a happy accident; it is required for the DMin in Theology and the Arts, and this was my first opportunity to take it. I’d heard that the professor (Rev. Dr. Cindi Beth Johnson) was top-notch, and the rumors were spot on.
Since I had so many other things I wanted to do, reported in my “Sabbatical activity” posts here, I’m glad I decided to take only one course this term. And I’m really glad it was this one.
I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed
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Perhaps you, like me, have seen this come across your social media feed:
Sounds so cool, doesn’t it? Well, the United States is one of those 50 countries, and a depot of the Human Library has been underway for some time here in the SF Bay Area. A friend and colleague in the UK gave me a heads-up that a friend of hers was moving to my area and that we should meet. She rightly predicted that we would really like each other. (All three of us are UUs.) What I didn’t know until we got together for a get-acquainted lunch was that she–the arrival, my new friend–was the new manager of the Human Library depot. I was very excited, and immediately asked how we could bring a Human Library event to UUCPA.
I expect that we’ll do that fairly soon, especially since our minister of religious education is as jazzed about it as I am. In the meantime, I am going to be a Book in the Human Library, this weekend, in San Rafael! It is on Saturday, December 2, 1-5 pm at Marin Ventures. Readers, for whom the Library is completely free, can have a 30-minute conversation with me about two aspects of my identity: being an atheist, and being a pansexual. I should say “or” rather than “and,” since trying to talk about both in the same 30-minute span would be a bit taxing. 😉
I am really looking forward to it, and I hope I have some good conversations. This is one of those activities that I didn’t particularly have on my list of sabbatical plans, but that fits beautifully with them. I have the spaciousness to devote an entire Saturday to something that doesn’t involve my family (something I avoid as much as possible when I’m working and Saturdays are our only family day). I’m having encounters that I imagine will teach me as much as they teach the Readers. And I’m learning firsthand about a ministry (my word, not the Human Library’s) that we at UUCPA can help offer to our community.
For the dates and locations of other Human Library events, follow the organization here.
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A new Ask Isabel is up! The letter writer is finding it hard to be thankful this year. Click on over to read what I suggested.
I was 40 before I heard the term “executive function,” when a parent at church said her child was getting some coaching in that area: the cluster of cognitive functions, such as working memory and emotional regulation, that make planning, problem-solving, and time management possible. Like many, probably most, people who got that far in life while regularly misplacing objects, forgetting any appointment that wasn’t written down and some that were, underestimating the time tasks would take, and overestimating the time I had in my day, I had a lot of shame and internalized criticism about these difficulties. In a shabby little corner of my mind, I even thought it was indulgent to consult a coach instead of just sucking it up and doing what most other people seemed to manage on their own.
Another ten years along, I had managed to shed a lot of that “just do it” nonsense. Around the same time, I considered that I might have ADHD; discovered that I didn’t tick the necessary diagnostic boxes; but also learned that a lot of the advice that ADHD-wise experts give was useful to me also. It seemed to fit the way I thought and the difficulties I had. (I distinguish between these experts and the people who just give supremely unhelpful advice like “Have you tried writing things down?,” the psychological equivalent of tech help that asks you if your computer is plugged in.) It occurred to me that if there were people who helped children and teens develop their executive functions, there might be coaches for adults, too. There are, and they do often work with people with ADHD–but they don’t care if you have the diagnosis. Presumably they have also noticed that the approaches that help folks with ADHD help a lot of us who live on some point of the spectrum between Diagnosably Neurodivergent and Textbook Neurotypical, if the latter exists.
The approach of sabbatical is a time to reflect: What would I like to do differently in my ministry, or do more, or do less? What do I want to learn during this time that could help me accomplish that change? One theme that emerged from my reflections was: I’d like it not to be quite so hard. Or rather, I’d like the hard parts of ministry to be the hard parts: staying present with people in times of grief and uncertainty. Crafting worship that is engaging and deep. Strategizing how to help a community adapt to cultural changes like a global pandemic, and respond courageously to threats to democracy. I wanted to be able to put more energy into those aspects of ministry, and not have it sapped by searching for files that were sitting right there yesterday, damn it or scrambling to meet a deadline I had forgotten about until it was upon me. I decided that sabbatical would be a good time to see whether some executive function coaching could make what was easy for some people easier for me. It sure didn’t feel like something I could squeeze in to my work week.
The only down side of getting my coaching during sabbatical was that maybe, lacking the daily influx of emails, meetings, etc., I would not have enough material to work with. No fear. Within a month I had plenty of leisure-time examples of executive dysfunction to analyze with a coach. I began meeting with Kelly in August. And it’s a profound relief to talk about these things with someone who understands “I wrote it on my to-do list, but then I was scared to look at my to-do list,” and who can help me come up with ways to overcome that fear: ways that actually work, not for other people but for me. Just like in sports, the coach can’t do the work for you, but a good one can help focus your attention on what will make the biggest difference between today’s training session and the next one.
I don’t have any illusions that I will be an organizational genius by January. These functions may always require particular attention to run smoothly. But I have some hope that they can run smoothly, most of the time, if I keep working on them–and that’s something I haven’t felt in many, many years.
I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed
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Sabbatical Activity No. Umpty-Ump is, of course, making art. I’ve been doing art almost every day, which is a major accomplishment.
A lot of what I’ve been working on is nothing I want to show yet: more explorations of the Tower of Babel and several themes that cluster around it. I’m working on one right now that uses the names of God in several dozen languages, and I think I’m likely to keep exploring that direction for a few pages of the sketchbook.
I’m annoyed at myself right now because I’ve had the below piece ready to submit to the Tiny Show (at Studio Gallery, early November to late December) for weeks, and was holding off only until I finished another piece that fit the dimensions, thinking I’d send them at the same time. But I finished that piece and didn’t like it–I don’t think I can make it work at this scale–and so I finally photographed this, frame and all, and submitted it.
Except that the deadline was not the 25th, like I had in my head, but the 20th. How old was I when I learned that I could not trust the dates I held in my head? About 12. Oh well. My chances of its being accepted were slim anyway; they didn’t want the ginkgo piece, citing too much similarity to other things they had already accepted for the show, and to my eye, anyway, the two pieces have a lot in common. But I really like them both, and that makes me happy.
I would like to show my art, but as every artist knows, it’s a whole other job to submit it, and takes a lot of time and effort that I’d rather put into half a dozen other things, including making art. I will renew my lapsed membership in a local art network and keep an eye out for opportunities, though. I love Elizabeth Gilbert’s practice of responding to rejections by immediately sending the piece right back out (just read about this in Big Magic, which I read for class), but for that you need to have a list of potential galleries.
I also have an idea for a mural in my neighborhood, on a wall that really wants something. I feel like I shouldn’t describe it here because the theme is directly related to the business in the building, and I haven’t talked to the owner yet. That’s the biggest “if” to actually making it happen; both the owner of the business and the owner of the building have to want it (I’m pretty sure they aren’t the same person). Once I’ve sketched a few ideas to my more-or-less satisfaction, I’ll take them and some other paintings that show what I can do, and go talk to the business owner.
So, back to drawing.
I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed
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I always read a lot for pure pleasure, and that continues during my sabbatical. I just read the three Anthony Horowitz mysteries that begin with The Word Is Murder, for example. Lots of Donna Leon during our time in Europe. I reread a couple of Terry Pratchetts. As a sabbatical activity, though, I’m also reading more books that, while also enjoyable, I chose in the hopes that they would expand my thinking in some way. Here’s the list.
The Galaxy, and the Ground Within, Becky Chambers. The last time I noted what I’d been reading, I had just started this. About five minutes later, I finished it. I’m joking, but wow, are her books un-put-downable. I need to read everything she has written.
Several books for my United class: Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert; How to Be an Artist, Jerry Saltz; The Creative Act, Rick Rubin; The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It for Life, Twyla Tharp. More on these when I write more about the class, probably.
Black Buddhists and the Black Radical Tradition: The Practice of Stillness in the Movement for Liberation, Rima Vesely-Flad. Interesting and encouraging exploration of how African-American Buddhists integrate their own heritage in ways that honor and develop aspects of Buddhism that tend to be sidelined in most, predominantly white, “convert” (as opposed to “heritage” or “Asian immigrant”) sanghas: ancestor veneration, for example. And also, and of most interest to me, how Black Buddhists unite political and personal liberation. Again, in my experience US (convert, white-dominated) Buddhism can be pretty focused on the individual, whereas Buddhism has powerful potential for social transformation. So this is exciting. And makes more than anecdotal my experiences of a couple of US Buddhist teachers, Lama Rod Owens and angel Kyodo Williams, who are African-American, are wise, solidly grounded in Buddhism, and passionately engaged in justice-making.
Lost and Found, Kathryn Schulz. Beautifully written–that sounds like I mean poetic, but it’s more that I feel like Schulz is a very thoughtful, dear friend speaking directly to me–essay on loss and its opposites, in the form of a memoir of her father’s dying and the beginning of her relationship with the woman who is now her wife. I had read part of it as an essay in The New Yorker, but I didn’t know there was a book until a colleague recommended it: thanks, Becky Brooks!
A book I had not quite finished, and can’t because I don’t remember the title or author and I can’t find it in the “recently returned” lists on any of my apps. It looks at three kids of color as they try to get an education in the racist conditions of the US’s economic, educational, and incarcarceration systems. It’s pretty recent. If you think you know what it might be, please help!
The Measure, Nikki Erlick. One day every adult on earth receives a box with their name engraved on it and a string inside. A bit clunky; she creates engaging characters, but tends to tell, rather than use their lives to show, how such a phenomenon might change us. But it’s her first novel and I’ll look forward to seeing what she writes next.
Various stories via the podcast Levar Burton Reads. If you love to be read short fiction, I can’t recommend it highly enough. It’s especially good for sci fi / fantasy lovers, because while “the only thing these stories have in common is that [he] love[s] them and [he] hope[s] you will, too,” he clearly has a real love for speculative fiction.
As an aside, I hear there are people who don’t think audiobooks count as reading. I’m sure they don’t think that blind people aren’t really reading, or that children who can’t read for themselves yet aren’t having a significant literary experience when an adult reads to them, or that if your sweetie reads to you in bed he is reading a book but you’re not, so I’m sure they just haven’t thought it through.
And in various stages of completion at the moment are:
Justice is Coming: How Progressives Are Going to Take Over the Country and America Is Going to Love It, Cenk Uygur: political analysis, very engagingly written and already reminding me that US American voters are far more progressive than our federal representatives.
Goodness and Advice, Judith Jarvis Thomson: hard-core moral philosophy by the author of “A Defense of Abortion,” which essay I have preached on because it had a huge effect on how I see the ethics of abortion, and I think it should do the same for our national policies.
The Covenant of Water, Abraham Verghese. the new novel by the author of Cutting for Stone. His writing is great, but somehow the story isn’t as compelling as Cutting for Stone, or maybe it is just too slow or my attention span too short. While sick, I’ve been doing more puzzles and watching movies or TV, less reading. But I am in line for Zadie Smith’s new novel, Fraud, from the library, so I have a self-imposed incentive: finish one novel before I get the point that the next is waiting on the Hold shelf.
What have you read recently that you recommend?
I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed
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I thought it was time for a roundup of what-all I’ve been doing with this lovely spacious sabbatical time. I like having a lot of projects going–it’s one thing I love about congregation-based ministry–so I’ll give several brief updates.
One thing I wanted to do was keep practicing my Spanish. Of the four basic language skills of reading, writing, speaking, and listening, the latter is probably the one in which I struggle the most. And I love audiobooks. Voila: I am immersing myself in spoken Spanish via audiobooks.
I watched my daughter progress in her French using this method. Now, she also diligently creates and reviews electronic flashcards, seeks out French speakers online, and is wholeheartedly dedicated to the project of learning French, which is how she went from 0 to fluent in under three years. I might not be at that level. Still, it was amazing to listen to her listening to Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in French. “Are you following all of this?” I asked her, and she said, “Some of it. Well enough. You know–I already know what’s going on, so I can fill in the blanks.” By the time she got to Deathly Hallows, her answer was a simple “Yes.” Over the course of seven audiobooks, her listening comprehension and vocabulary skyrocketed.
So I’m doing the same, though not so systematically. I chose Prisoner of Azkaban because it’s my favorite in the series, and I could feel the leap in my comprehension level between the beginning and the end of the book. I have to slow the narration speed down to 0.8x, but my ears seem to be getting a little faster. When I got to the end of Prisoner–feeling very accomplished–I was a little tired of HP, and besides, even though it’s just a book out of the library and I doubt it puts even a penny in JKR’s pocket, she is on my sh**list and I’d have liked to choose something else. But the list of Spanish audio versions of books I know really well is not that long. You can find my favorite authors on audio, and you can find their books in Spanish translation. Finding the Spanish translations on audio? Not so much.
I was delighted to find The Secret Garden, but there was a glitch–after about a page, the book skipped to the beginning of the next chapter, as if it were just a sample. I settled for The Little Prince, which I don’t love as much as The Secret Garden but has the advantage of simpler language. Same glitch. (All of this was on my phone and on a road trip. Now that I’m back home, I have shot Hoopla a note, hoping it can be fixed.) So it was back to HP, and we are on our way to Hogwarts after the Quidditch World Cup. I’m still at 0.8 speed, but the flow of words is more comprehensible. Who knows, maybe by the time I’ve listened to all seven, I’ll be up to full speed.
I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed
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(CW: a blister is pictured in this post. I know that freaks some people out.)
As reported earlier, I have been taking a taiko class on Sunday mornings. Taiko are the Japanese drums usually played in an ensemble; “taiko” means “big drum” in Japanese. If you’ve never seen it, here’s a group from the same place.
Dance Brigade, Dance Mission Theater
We have had five of our six weeks of class, and by last week I had a significant callus at the base of my ring finger as a badge of progress.
This week it was bothering me during class, so I put a bandaid on it. That was a mistake; within ten minutes it had blossomed into a blister. Another badge!
I may be proud of these physical signs, but I’m not a masochist; I’ll put moleskin around it before next week’s class and “show and tell” for our families and friends. It would probably be wise to take off my ring on that hand also.
The students bring the drums into the studio and put them away again after class, and I’ve noticed the last couple of weeks that the drums are considerably lighter than they were before. This is improbable, so it must be another sign of the physical effects of intense drumming, even for only about an hour a week.
It is so much fun. I might need to sign up for the intermediate class.
For a sabbatical blog, this one has been pretty thin in the “what I’ve been up to” category. So here, for the record, is what I’ve been doing vis-a-vis sabbatical goals.
Drawing etc. I report on fairly often. I was tempted by a ceramics class–actually, less a class than access to materials, studio space and kiln time, which were what I wanted–but the difficulty of getting the work home, and the delight I’ve taken in just working on 2D stuff, convinced me to skip it. Right now I’m working on collages, which Munchkin likes so much that I can easily do them while she’s home as well as while she’s in school (I give her paper and cut-out people and she makes her own c’lage, as she calls it, beside me). Two weeks ago I went to the local weekly, no-instruction, life-drawing session because drawing from a model was my favorite part of drawing class and I really miss it. I’ve gone twice now and hope to go every Tuesday that remains, which is only three more (not including the last week, when Joy will have returned to SF and evening excursions without the munchkin will be tough). I’ve already looked up similar sessions in SF and bookmarked the schedule so I can continue there.
A habit of art: A goal for my sabbatical, besides “make art,” was to get in a habit of making art that I’ll continue when I’m back in the busy life of full-time work for me, full-time work for Joy, full-time school for Munchkin, commuting . . . I got excellent advice from my dear colleague Chris, who is recently retired and still working hard at projects imposed by no one but himself, so he knows what he’s talking about. He recommended that starting during the sabbatical, I have a set time every week that is inviolable art time, and when sabbatical ends and all the other art time falls away, I will just continue, Mondays 9-11 a.m., without fail. Because of my Spanish class (see below) I haven’t started a weekly habit ’til this week, but I’ll try to keep it up for this last month.
No more morning internet: I realized that art time opens up if I break another habit. I tend to wake up and turn on the computer. Usually I have some excuse, like checking for a reply to an e-mail or tracking what I ate for breakfast (either of which, of course, could easily wait), and end up frittering away time on Facebook and Wikipedia and other idle pursuits. So I have two computer-related resolutions: (1) on Mondays, which are my day off and my sacred time home alone, have only a very specific, limited online time, if that (maybe 1/2 hour during lunch), and (2) not to turn on the computer at all on work days until I go into work. Morning tends to be an energetic and productive time for me, since I wake up before anyone else in the family, and I could do art then, or, if the Muse is still asleep, at least scrub the toilet instead of meandering in the internet wasteland. I’m trying to establish the new habit before leaving San Miguel, and doing about 50/50 on it. Um, today I’ve been on the computer all morning without even touching my almost-done collage. As soon as I finish this blog post, though, it’ s art time. 😉
Spanish: I came here with the intention not to study much Spanish. I thought intensive classes were the only way to go and if I did those, I wouldn’t have any art time. But I do want to learn Spanish–I started classes at community college two years ago because I want us both be able to speak to the munchkin in two languages, while she’s young and can learn two easily–and the opportunities of being in Mexico proved irresistible, especially after we found an excellent Spanish school that offers one-month classes, 3 hours a day. That sounded reasonably compatible with my art goals. I took Level 3 in April (3 hours plus an hour’s conversation) and was so thrilled by how much I learned that I decided to do Level 4 too, 3 hours only, in June ( May was our time for travel–a week in Mexico City, a few days in Michoacan). I could have done Level 5 in my remaining month, but even at only three hours a day, it does definitely eat up the only totally free art time I have. Enough. I did very well and got a good foundation in place, and I have ways to continue when I’m home. One thing I should do is blog in Spanish sometimes, so stay tuned / be warned!
Technically, my sabbatical ended June 10. The rest of my time is my annual vacation and study leave, which look pretty much the same as sabbatical. I have some study leave goals that I kept separate from sabbatical, so I’m pursuing them now: reading Theodore Parker in preparation for a sermon in August, the 200th anniversary of his birth; perusing some small group ministry topics in preparation for our new groups to be launched this fall (if congregational plans didn’t change in my absence); reading a couple of books on leadership and preaching, if the books will arrive. I’m even guest-preaching at a new interdenominational church (ten minute sermon–gotta love these Christians, whose communion service and many readings leave little time for ministerial musings), and, sad to report, giving support to a new friend by participating in the memorial service for a member of the UU Fellowship, Carol Veal, rest her soul.
Practically-pure bliss.
There are a few things I do miss. I miss the cats—I swear I almost signed up with a one-on-one Spanish tutor, even though it’s a very expensive way to learn and I would do just as well or better with a class of other students at this point, so that I’d be able to pet his cat who looks just like my sweet, snuggly Luna. I pale a little when I consider that it will be another 5 months before I get any dim sum. (We had dim sum about five times in our last couple of weeks in California, trying to store it up, but that doesn’t really work.) I miss our house when I think about it, but it will wait for us, unchanging, and I find it comforting that a lovely family is living there and loving it. I do wish I could talk to faraway friends more, but the internet is sure a help there, and a couple of them are planning to visit.
I don’t miss work. Not in the slightest. This was not a foregone conclusion; I love my job, and last fall’s were my happiest months of work in a long time, full of particularly interesting challenges and promising more. And I’m not someone for whom retirement is the point of life. I would go mad with nothing to do but lie on a beach and read. Work, the doing of something that stretches my abilities and is useful to other people, is one of my chief sources of happiness; I ought to speak a language where “work” and “play” are the same word, if there even is one besides Pravic. However, the beauty of sabbatical affords most of the blessings of work without most of the downsides. I’m learning a lot and pushing myself to do difficult and rewarding things, while—these are the tough parts in regular worktime—getting enough sleep, having enough time with my wife and daughter, not fretting about stray critical comments or church politics, not feeling like I have more to do in a week than can possibly fit, putting first things first. All of those things will be hard to maintain once I’m back in the intensity of daily ministry. In particular, I am not good at letting go of the concerns of work to make heart-space for the other parts of my life, though I’m hoping I learn something during this time that will make it easier. It is so, so good to be in a different mode.
What I do miss about church, though, is the people. I love my congregation so much. They are a very smart, funny, devoted group of people, fun to be with, who challenge me (mostly in constructive ways *grin*) to be a better person as well as a better minister. It’s hard to be separated from their lives for this long, knowing that they are going about their daily worries and joys and that I can’t share them. However hard it might be to re-enter the pressure chamber of sermons, meetings, etc. come August, being with them again will be the reward.
Sermons in Stones 
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