Lent Reflection (Part 1)
Yesterday marked the beginning of Lent. Initially I planned on
fasting from meats and sweets and spending more time sitting in the presence of
God. Yet the closer Lent came I couldn’t help
but wonder when Lent ended. Lately, I’ve
felt locked in a season and space with massive losses, bottomless heartache, and
suffering both personally and collectively. I keep wondering where to place ashes on my ashen
covered face.
Recently my counselor told me about the Stanford Prison
experiment and the emotional impact it had on those
who were cast as prisoners. If you’re unfamiliar with it, the Stanford Prison
experiment reveals, “What happens when you put good people in an evil place?
Does Humanity win over evil, or does evil triumph? These are some of the
questions [they] posed in this dramatic simulation of prison life conducted in
1971 at Stanford University.” My counselor noted how the experiment needed to
end because of how quickly people begin to abuse the prisoners. She then asked
if I often feel abused, demeaned, and unfairly treated because of the skin that
I'm in. She wondered how hard it must be because unlike the students in the Stanford
Prison experiment I can’t take this off. She contemplated how difficult it must
be to keep loving myself when so much teaches me to hate who I am. She inquired
if it was difficult to keep pushing and centering myself when systemic
injustices seen and unseen continue to push back on all of my empowering
self-definitions in the midst of seeking to navigate difficult personal and
family issues. I didn’t answer just sat and pondered.
Most days it feels like I live in a perpetual
state of crisis. All day long I’m moving from, flight, to fight, or freezing
with little space to reset mentally, emotionally, physically, or spiritually.
It’s
as though I’m
in a war zone being shot at with bullets not meant to kill but none the less intended
to wound. These bullets pierce the depths of my soul and bit by bit, day by day
remove fragments of my identity leaving only a shadow existence in its place.
In my friend’s Cindy Lee’s most recent
post on Lent she invites us to reflect on the ways we
promote a triumphalism that simultaneously “resist suffering.” In her article
she invites us to enter into the season of Lent reflecting on our collective
suffering. She also invites those who have too much to bear to share our
suffering with others. As I’ve sat with Cindy's words, coupled with my counselor’s
questions, and the nagging sense that Lent NEVER ended I’ve
decided to share my burdens. I’m unpacking and trusting that you will hold the weight of
what burdens me. What follows are the beginnings of my musings on being in
perpetual Lent and living in the Skin I’m in as I endure what
I’m beginning to describe as my Dark Year of the soul. Can I be even more
honest than I’ve already been? I’m struggling. How do I willing walk through
yet another season that requires even more reflection on the suffering that
seems endless when I'm not sure I have any more to give let alone give up?
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