Yesterday I posted on fears and faith – and asked (myself) this question:
What if I could allow my fear to be the very thing that helps me let go, trust, and step out…in faith?
All good in theory. Far harder in praxis.
I read two posts, back-to-back, that reminded me of this in slamming, articulate, excruciating, hope-filled ways (yes…all of that rolled together).
Tracy Todd wrote a post entitled, “How do I…” She talks of her wheelchair-bound life – still wanting, desiring, communicating, now through technology, but far more, through a heart that continues to feel much! She invited me to consider that my own experiences of faith, of fear, and even of letting go are vastly different than her own. It’s not a better/worse conversation; rather, a powerful perspective that I needed to be reminded of. Tracy calls me to ground my themes, my thoughts, my writing in reality, in her story, in my own. Theory only goes so far.
Kelly Diels wrote a post entitled, “The Myth of The One. Letting it Spill. Letting it Go.” She talks of The One Who Got Away…the hold-out, hoped-for love of her life – that isn’t hers. She invited me to consider my own experiences in this realm; my lack of faith, my fears, and my unwillingness to let go. It’s not a better/worse conversation; rather, a powerful perspective that I needed to be reminded of. Kelly calls me to ground my themes, my thoughts, my writing in reality, in her story, in my own. Theory only goes so far.
So today I sit in my own desert. In my own story. In my own reality – where theory only goes so far. I’m spinning in my fears, my wounds, my self- and other-inflicted injuries; spinning in thoughts of my own experience of faith in such contexts – and my lack thereof.
I’m palpably aware of two non-theory things:
1) I’m not alone.
Whenever I talk/listen to others, I realize that my stories (and their subsequent themes and theories) are consistent with those of others’. My deserts are not as barren as they sometimes feel. I journey alongside fellow travelers. And their companionship makes all the difference. They quell my fears. They strengthen my faith. They give me hope, which leads directly to #2:
2) I continue to hope.
I’ve wondered, at times, if faith could be synonymous with hope. My answer vacillates. But today it’s where I land: needing my ongoing, undying, sometimes-seemingly-futile hope to be reflective of, or evidence for, my faith. Faith in others. Faith in myself. Faith in circumstances. Faith in the unknown. Hope can feel shallow and slippery, but I can’t not hang on to it. To quote Kelly:
I hope.
Oh hell. There it is again.
Theory only goes so far. The day-to-day realities of every life, of my life, are grounded in heartache, challenge, celebration, joy, disappointment, success, faith, disbelief, and so much more.
Gratefully, grace-fully, the day-to-day realities of my life are also grounded in gratitude – for Tracy, Kelly, and so many others; for continued, crazy, illogical hope.
For your reflection:
Where do you feel the gap between theory and praxis in your own story? Your own faith? Your experience of hope?
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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
Ronna, I am so honoured to be mentioned in your post along with Kelly.
I thank you for being a source of inspiration to me, as I gain momentum and confidence in this world of blogging. Your writings have inspired and encouraged me more than you can imagine. The biggest lesson I learn from you is to always speak “truths”.
Thank you!
.-= Tracy Todd´s last blog ..How do I… =-.
You’re more than welcome, of course. But the thanks is mine to give – on so many levels. And truth? You speak and live it on levels beyond what I can begin to comprehend, Tracy.
Ronna and Kelly and Tracy all together – what a wonderful treat!
I think about the limits of theory all the time, even as I spend so much time thinking and trying to come up with universal truths. Sometimes I wonder if I miss out on the experience of living simply by dwelling too much in my head. Becoming absent by trying too hard to be present.
What I do know is that my most connected, most hopeful moments come when the theory and the praxis are so close together that I can’t distinguish one from the other.
.-= Kristen @ Motherese´s last blog ..Oops, I Did It Again! =-.
Exactly, Kristen: theory and praxis so close together. Sounds like a passionate love-affair; when what we know and feel in our hearts gets revealed in our world, our relationships, our very bodies. This takes me to thoughts of embodiment…and then incarnation. And off I go into the realms of my mind – always wanting such to be experienced, lived, known. We’re trackin…
[Just so you know: I don't have any inside scoop on Kristen. I commented on her blog just today and this was the context of our conversation...]
Oh! Kristen and Ronna and Tracy and Kelly! All of these comments and writings are speaking to me in ways I cannot imagine.
When theory and praxis come close on parallel courses, sometimes even overlapping, is where life just seems to go so well. It is when hope is recognized and sometimes is truth in itself.
.-= Nicki´s last blog ..The Tulips =-.
So, at least in the space of this post, Nicki, I can see theory and praxis combine – in your response. Lovely! Thank you. Indeed: it is where hope is recognized – and embraced, flourished, celebrated!
Good subject, Ronna. A worthy angel to be wrestling with.
I’m leery of theory. To me only praxis makes perfect.
But I do see the sense in St. Augustine’s suggestion:
“Pray as if it all depends on God. Work as if it all depends on you.”
.-= Invisible Mikey´s last blog ..The Best Instrument (Part Two) =-.
‘Like this: “a worthy angel.” I’m not leery of theory. I love it, actually. But I have to begin to question it when it rarely lands itself in praxis…obviously. Especially in my own life. Thanks for being here.
A wise man one asked me… “Where did you learn to hate Hope.” I don’t know really. But this I know. I cannot kill it, no matter how hard I try…
So, so true, Rebecca. This SO describes my life, my efforts, my reality. For the most part, I’m glad.
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