What happens to a dream deferred?
Langston Hughes asked me in my high school English class. I knew that I could perhaps not truly feel his pain of being prevented from his dream by prejudice for I was born into very fortunate circumstances. But, his question still hit home for me, being a dreamer myself. I could only imagine how painful it would be if the dream I had held for so long- the calling I had felt since childhood to teach and make a difference in the lives of special needs children- had been deferred.
But hasn't it? In a way? I have been questioning more and more lately where I should go from here- if really teaching in a typical setting is how I should proceed next. It was what I always visualized, perhaps really what I dreamed of- teaching special needs children in a classroom in a public school (or something modeled like it). Now I wonder if I shouldn't consult, work in a therapeutic setting, teach teachers, teach in another special school, or go into ministry. Maybe I should quit the whole thing and apply for some fellowship, travel the world, write, volunteer in Guatemala. People always tell me I can do "more" than teach. I think they mean something more prestigious, more adventurous, more interesting by societal standards- but really, there is nothing more you can do than make a difference in a child's life- then teach someone the key skills to a satisfying and successful life. But in my weaker moments, I sometimes think I might agree with society and this week was one of them. This week I found myself in an existential crisis questioning what to do when I've always felt the call to teach. And then I thought of Langston's words.
Has not my dream been deferred? First I, like everyone waited through college, working toward my dream, but never quite there. Then, unlike everyone, I felt unready to pursue teaching in a regular setting where I was behaviorally and educationally responsible for all my students- their only line of defense, if you will, in circumstances with few resources (very unlike where I teach now). So, I deferred my dream for the sake of it itself- to learn more to be a better teacher to be more prepared to serve my students. And while I'm teaching now, it's a different kind of teaching- I'm not a classroom teacher. I miss legitimately teaching children a concept, presenting it, and working with the same student on the same objective day after day and seeing them make progress- not just on paper like I do now- but right before my eyes. I miss the personal contact of direct, continuous instruction and the joy that comes when you teach a child to do something. I have not truly taught in the way that I dreamed of teaching for sometime- and not really as I truly dreamed of teaching (more effectively- I was not as effective as I would have liked as a student teacher in college).
My dream has been deferred.
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Does it just go away? No, not this one- other things came in perhaps to try to replace it, but it remains
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Perhaps this is more the case. I festers, it eventually grows into something inside me that begins to yearn to break free. It festered when I first came to this job- wanting to do more education/curricular work- I was prideful and angry at times. And then pushes to break free and run- making me ache sometimes.
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
But often I forget, forget the ache and the yearning. It crusts over syrupy sweet- the raw truth of my calling has been sugared over so I get caught up in all the work I do and can gently, unconsciously, forget it.
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
No maybe about this one
Or does it explode?
Explodes into questions- and eventually a beast uncontainable that you must live out no matter the cost or explodes into unrecognizable pieces of its original form and leaves you to make something, perhaps a new dream, out of what's left. I hope for the former before the latter because honestly, I don't want a new dream, I don't want pieces of a dream- I want this dream.
This week, as I watched my student giggle happily, free from limitations allowing her to attend an event like typical students I realized there is nothing "more" that I could want than this- nothing "more" I could do than to live out the dream of doing the kind of work that allows students to live lives with moments like that one.
And honestly, we're nearing the end- it won't be long now before, if God continues to lead me in the way I've been led this week, this dream is no longer deferred
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Week 61: Ten Years
I'm not going to say much about the tragic events of September 11th because enough has been said today and in far better words than I could say it. I will say that I did appreciate the Ground Zero ceremony's choice of words because they included two of my favorite writers: God (via some awesome messengers) and Paul Simon (can we talk about that version of sound of silence? Well, not here, I will get way too far off track, but let's talk sometime, ok?). The best part was that they did not spin the words in a way that made our country some kind of an idol, either, as I half expected. In fact, their word choice even made America and all that we know seem fleeting and that God is really all there is. Which I completely agree with, I just didn't expect to hear it on a nationally televised broadcast that incorporated a lot of politicians.
But that's enough about that. What I am going to say is how September 11th, like all major events in history that make you remember where you were at the moment they occurred/you found out, made me think about my growth through time and what that means to my "next phase in life." Basically, this post is a pretty self-centered take on 9/11.
10 years ago around 8:30 in the morning I awoke for the first ever "late arrival day" at my high school in one of my first weeks at that very high-school as I was a freshman. I was so young that I was at the stage where I woke up, got some cereal, turned on the TV, heard "a plane has been hijacked" and thought, "boring" so I changed the channel to my usual pokemon. That's right. I ate cereal and watched Pokemon when I was a little freshmen. Heck, I'd probably do that now if I weren't addicted to facebook and spent all my cereal time on that every day. Also, I'd have to find a channel with classic pokemon which could prove difficult. Again, I'm off track.
10 years ago I sat outside on a beautiful and clear Tuesday morning in size 1 incredibly faded jeans with a belt covered in silver glitter and an extra small juniors baby blue tank top (after watching pokemon, too. I was a freshman, don't judge me) waiting for the bus, thinking about life. At that point, my concerns revolved around getting into the latest play and getting good grades for some far off dream of college and eventually teaching special ed. I knew naught the details. I probably meditated on the latest note my best friend, Brittany had written me, thinking only of my small circle of friends I had known since elementary/middle school. I lived a world with fewer restrictions. A world that didn't require me to know what anthrax or bio-terrorism was. I lived in an America without the Patriot Act, without a department of homeland security. I went to a high school where, when people considered joining the military, they didn't have to consider that they could be immediately entering into an ongoing and active war.
Imagine if that me had awoken in my body this morning. It would have found itself in a strange apartment in Millbury, Massachusetts. In fact, it would have found itself on the floor of said apartment on an air mattress sleeping next to three people who would have been strangers (rather than close friends who I was incredibly glad to finally get together with). That version of myself would find itself wearing a sweatshirt from a college I had not heard of or considered, but had since graduated from. It would have found itself on eastern time instead of central, revisiting the events of 9/11 on TV right in time with when they occurred. It would have considered New York City a strange and frightening place and would be shocked to learn it had already been there... thrice, and was expecting to travel there again tomorrow. That me would have no idea what Applied Behavior Analysis was, let alone believe that, in only ten years had not only graduated from highschool, chosen a college and graduated from it, but would have also nearly achieved a master's degree in a field it had never heard of.
That me would be shocked to see all the scars on my body and wonder where they came from, as well wonder how I was wearing pants 4 sizes bigger and bras with a cup size 5 sizes bigger. That me had never really been interested in a boy aside from socially "crushing" to be cool. That me would know nothing of the kind of work I do. That me couldn't have told you really Jesus was, why I needed Him, or really explain why He was my savior. That me couldn't name a favorite bible passage. And, get ready for this: that me would wonder why in the hell there are 20 Bob Dylan albums in my car. That's right, 10 years ago, I thought Bob Dylan was lame. And THAT, my friends, is how much changes in 10 years. Especially 10 years of adolescence. Granted, the next ten will probably be a bit calmer but I think I will still find that when I wake up for the 20th reunion of September 11th, I will be waking up in a completely different place- professionally, personally, spiritually, geographically.
I worry so much about my next phase in life- worry that I have to get somewhere, become something. And of course, I must pray and focus my efforts but I shouldn't worry so much because time changes things to a ridiculous degree. I have no doubt that 10 years from now, I will wake up with just as many blessings as these ten years have brought me, if not more, and wonder (no matter how much I focus and pray and write and however many weeks I dedicate) how I got there.
But that's enough about that. What I am going to say is how September 11th, like all major events in history that make you remember where you were at the moment they occurred/you found out, made me think about my growth through time and what that means to my "next phase in life." Basically, this post is a pretty self-centered take on 9/11.
10 years ago around 8:30 in the morning I awoke for the first ever "late arrival day" at my high school in one of my first weeks at that very high-school as I was a freshman. I was so young that I was at the stage where I woke up, got some cereal, turned on the TV, heard "a plane has been hijacked" and thought, "boring" so I changed the channel to my usual pokemon. That's right. I ate cereal and watched Pokemon when I was a little freshmen. Heck, I'd probably do that now if I weren't addicted to facebook and spent all my cereal time on that every day. Also, I'd have to find a channel with classic pokemon which could prove difficult. Again, I'm off track.
10 years ago I sat outside on a beautiful and clear Tuesday morning in size 1 incredibly faded jeans with a belt covered in silver glitter and an extra small juniors baby blue tank top (after watching pokemon, too. I was a freshman, don't judge me) waiting for the bus, thinking about life. At that point, my concerns revolved around getting into the latest play and getting good grades for some far off dream of college and eventually teaching special ed. I knew naught the details. I probably meditated on the latest note my best friend, Brittany had written me, thinking only of my small circle of friends I had known since elementary/middle school. I lived a world with fewer restrictions. A world that didn't require me to know what anthrax or bio-terrorism was. I lived in an America without the Patriot Act, without a department of homeland security. I went to a high school where, when people considered joining the military, they didn't have to consider that they could be immediately entering into an ongoing and active war.
Imagine if that me had awoken in my body this morning. It would have found itself in a strange apartment in Millbury, Massachusetts. In fact, it would have found itself on the floor of said apartment on an air mattress sleeping next to three people who would have been strangers (rather than close friends who I was incredibly glad to finally get together with). That version of myself would find itself wearing a sweatshirt from a college I had not heard of or considered, but had since graduated from. It would have found itself on eastern time instead of central, revisiting the events of 9/11 on TV right in time with when they occurred. It would have considered New York City a strange and frightening place and would be shocked to learn it had already been there... thrice, and was expecting to travel there again tomorrow. That me would have no idea what Applied Behavior Analysis was, let alone believe that, in only ten years had not only graduated from highschool, chosen a college and graduated from it, but would have also nearly achieved a master's degree in a field it had never heard of.
That me would be shocked to see all the scars on my body and wonder where they came from, as well wonder how I was wearing pants 4 sizes bigger and bras with a cup size 5 sizes bigger. That me had never really been interested in a boy aside from socially "crushing" to be cool. That me would know nothing of the kind of work I do. That me couldn't have told you really Jesus was, why I needed Him, or really explain why He was my savior. That me couldn't name a favorite bible passage. And, get ready for this: that me would wonder why in the hell there are 20 Bob Dylan albums in my car. That's right, 10 years ago, I thought Bob Dylan was lame. And THAT, my friends, is how much changes in 10 years. Especially 10 years of adolescence. Granted, the next ten will probably be a bit calmer but I think I will still find that when I wake up for the 20th reunion of September 11th, I will be waking up in a completely different place- professionally, personally, spiritually, geographically.
I worry so much about my next phase in life- worry that I have to get somewhere, become something. And of course, I must pray and focus my efforts but I shouldn't worry so much because time changes things to a ridiculous degree. I have no doubt that 10 years from now, I will wake up with just as many blessings as these ten years have brought me, if not more, and wonder (no matter how much I focus and pray and write and however many weeks I dedicate) how I got there.
Weeks 53-55: You're really not done yet
Hey, remember this post? Well, you don't really have to because I posted it a while ago and the events of it occurred oh, 4+ months ago. But, I'm catching up because what I'm about to tell you happened only 2 months ago. I also posted some happenings from more recent weeks already so apologies for going out of order.
Well, in case you don't remember (and since I don't expect you to) here is a re-cap: I was mentally and professionally ready to leave the team where I work at my current job and hoping to transfer to work with younger students in a different setting at my same school. I expected this transfer but was anticipating it too much and not appreciating the time I had left. I came to realize that I was "not done yet" and that I had more to do with my students with the time I had left. Little did I know. Due to staffing, it was revealed to me about 2 months ago that I would stay with my same students for this next year. This was a bit unexpected. Now, not only was I "not done yet," I was really not done yet- not for another year.
I had expected this coming year, my final year, to be another learning year. My three years out on the East Coast have not been so much about giving in terms of education. They have been more about learning so I will be better equipped to give back when I leave. But because I work in such a rich setting with so many resources my presence is not especially vital. Students would be getting relatively the same quality of education whether I am there or not. Whereas, kids in a public school back in the midwest might go through their entire school career without being taught any form of communication would they could be completely capable of using some kind of picture communication system if they didn't have teachers with ABA experience.
Between this distinction and prayer, I have always felt that this was more of a learning time. But, when I found out my third year would be the same as the last two I thought that perhaps this would be more of a giving year- what else could I learn?
Well, working in the program I work in is something that people have difficulty making it through a year of (let alone 3) especially as a teacher on the floor with students. It's a little different if you move up to different positions/have better hours (although that is still an incredibly hard an thankless job that you couldn't pay me to do and I respect all my supervisors for doing it). So one year is hard enough for some, two years in my placement is tough- people almost never make it through three full years in the placement where I work as a direct care teacher, let alone sign up for it.
Don't get me wrong, I have the best job in the world but that saying you've heard of for teaching jobs applies more than ever at my job: "it's the toughest job you'll ever love." The sad part is that because of the tough aspect, you can only do what you love for so long. And I do need to realize that my time doing this amazing work is fleeting and given the ministry call I keep feeling, my time working with the best kind of people on the planet (special needs children) may be limited, even if I don't really want it to be (I'm still not sure on this, so don't hold me to it, but let me tell you- these 70 weeks of prayer have seen some Ca-razy changes). Given all that, I need to appreciate this while I have it.
But I digress. Let's get back to the story: when I had thought I might leave my placement for a new one I felt like a quitter. I had grown exhausted of trying to love people and persevere in love and tolerance and to fight to improve the things that frustrated me without being hurtful or harmful. So to just leave (even if it also was for professional reasons) felt like I was letting the darkness win. I couldn't love properly, I couldn't work for what was right, I couldn't be the person I wanted to be at work, so I should just leave? And besides, my students are the world to me- one random year working in a different area would feel like a fluke. So, in some ways, when I heard the news that I was staying, it felt right. Still incredibly daunting, but right. And then I realized, while this was a giving year, it was most definitely a learning year. Maybe less growing professionally and more spiritually. This year would be a lesson in endurance and perseverance in love and all the actions that it entails. When I had prayed about what to do this year professionally and when it came down to asking God about my next placement I had asked him to put me where I would grow most into the person I needed to be to do His work, especially when I left here. I had thought that meant doing early intervention work with younger students but God obviously has other plans. And I can only believe that my staying in this placement was an answer to my prayer, especially considering what I will be returning to when I go back home. Leaving here I will face trying to love my mother in her rough medical state, trying to love people who will hate the kind of work I will do, and will be trying to persevere to be effective for my students in an environment with limited resources. Did I think God was just going to toss me into that unprepared?
Well, I must have thought that if I thought He was going to let me get away with running away from trying to persevere and endure in love and just drop things when they got hard. But, He didn't. And as I begin to work into this year, with some added changes to make my life a little more sane and to allow myself to actually have time to teach and spend quality time with my students again, I begin to fall in step. I remember again why I do this and I begin to feel the beginning of love for people I could not have loved before. But, I am gaining the wisdom to recognize none of that is because of me- it is simply by Grace that I can even begin to endure in love. Although, I must work every day to accept it and to live it out.
So now, months after grappling with this news, I get up and go to work daily and feel like a new woman. My co-workers say it's because my schedule changed and because I have less responsibility. Well, that accounts for the lightness I feel, but the feeling like a "new woman?" There's only One who can do something as dynamic and amazing as that.
Well, in case you don't remember (and since I don't expect you to) here is a re-cap: I was mentally and professionally ready to leave the team where I work at my current job and hoping to transfer to work with younger students in a different setting at my same school. I expected this transfer but was anticipating it too much and not appreciating the time I had left. I came to realize that I was "not done yet" and that I had more to do with my students with the time I had left. Little did I know. Due to staffing, it was revealed to me about 2 months ago that I would stay with my same students for this next year. This was a bit unexpected. Now, not only was I "not done yet," I was really not done yet- not for another year.
I had expected this coming year, my final year, to be another learning year. My three years out on the East Coast have not been so much about giving in terms of education. They have been more about learning so I will be better equipped to give back when I leave. But because I work in such a rich setting with so many resources my presence is not especially vital. Students would be getting relatively the same quality of education whether I am there or not. Whereas, kids in a public school back in the midwest might go through their entire school career without being taught any form of communication would they could be completely capable of using some kind of picture communication system if they didn't have teachers with ABA experience.
Between this distinction and prayer, I have always felt that this was more of a learning time. But, when I found out my third year would be the same as the last two I thought that perhaps this would be more of a giving year- what else could I learn?
Well, working in the program I work in is something that people have difficulty making it through a year of (let alone 3) especially as a teacher on the floor with students. It's a little different if you move up to different positions/have better hours (although that is still an incredibly hard an thankless job that you couldn't pay me to do and I respect all my supervisors for doing it). So one year is hard enough for some, two years in my placement is tough- people almost never make it through three full years in the placement where I work as a direct care teacher, let alone sign up for it.
Don't get me wrong, I have the best job in the world but that saying you've heard of for teaching jobs applies more than ever at my job: "it's the toughest job you'll ever love." The sad part is that because of the tough aspect, you can only do what you love for so long. And I do need to realize that my time doing this amazing work is fleeting and given the ministry call I keep feeling, my time working with the best kind of people on the planet (special needs children) may be limited, even if I don't really want it to be (I'm still not sure on this, so don't hold me to it, but let me tell you- these 70 weeks of prayer have seen some Ca-razy changes). Given all that, I need to appreciate this while I have it.
But I digress. Let's get back to the story: when I had thought I might leave my placement for a new one I felt like a quitter. I had grown exhausted of trying to love people and persevere in love and tolerance and to fight to improve the things that frustrated me without being hurtful or harmful. So to just leave (even if it also was for professional reasons) felt like I was letting the darkness win. I couldn't love properly, I couldn't work for what was right, I couldn't be the person I wanted to be at work, so I should just leave? And besides, my students are the world to me- one random year working in a different area would feel like a fluke. So, in some ways, when I heard the news that I was staying, it felt right. Still incredibly daunting, but right. And then I realized, while this was a giving year, it was most definitely a learning year. Maybe less growing professionally and more spiritually. This year would be a lesson in endurance and perseverance in love and all the actions that it entails. When I had prayed about what to do this year professionally and when it came down to asking God about my next placement I had asked him to put me where I would grow most into the person I needed to be to do His work, especially when I left here. I had thought that meant doing early intervention work with younger students but God obviously has other plans. And I can only believe that my staying in this placement was an answer to my prayer, especially considering what I will be returning to when I go back home. Leaving here I will face trying to love my mother in her rough medical state, trying to love people who will hate the kind of work I will do, and will be trying to persevere to be effective for my students in an environment with limited resources. Did I think God was just going to toss me into that unprepared?
Well, I must have thought that if I thought He was going to let me get away with running away from trying to persevere and endure in love and just drop things when they got hard. But, He didn't. And as I begin to work into this year, with some added changes to make my life a little more sane and to allow myself to actually have time to teach and spend quality time with my students again, I begin to fall in step. I remember again why I do this and I begin to feel the beginning of love for people I could not have loved before. But, I am gaining the wisdom to recognize none of that is because of me- it is simply by Grace that I can even begin to endure in love. Although, I must work every day to accept it and to live it out.
So now, months after grappling with this news, I get up and go to work daily and feel like a new woman. My co-workers say it's because my schedule changed and because I have less responsibility. Well, that accounts for the lightness I feel, but the feeling like a "new woman?" There's only One who can do something as dynamic and amazing as that.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Weeks 59-60: The demons of exercise
The beginning of a new contract/school year, a new schedule, a lack of actual classes, and the beginning of the end of my time here. I felt like I needed to re-vamp my life in some ways so I could be refreshed and ready to do a third year of very rewarding but intense and stressful work. I want to get the most out of this year and become who God really wants me to be. Of course, when seeking these things, the answer is to turn to God and seek the spirit in order to renew and prepare your spirit. And while I am doing those things, I also turned to other things- lifestyle changes like exercising regularly. So I joined a gym and began taking fitness classes about 4 times per week so I actually work out. Sounds pretty good in theory, right? Nothing wrong with exercise.
Well, if you're thinking that, you're forgetting who you're dealing with here. If there's anyone who can turn something like taking fitness classes and turn it into the catalyst for an existential crisis, it's this girl. Who else goes to a fitness class and thinks about the theology behind what the instructor is saying?
Nonetheless, let's explore this. Let's take a theological trip through the many fitness classes of my gym. First, I went to Zumba, one of my favorites and something I had done before. It's a really fun workout that you don't realize is a work-out. Lots of modified salsa/latin (and a touch of hip hop) dance. And while I love it, a lot of the moves are pretty sexual and in a way, it's not exactly biblical as if you did these moves in front of anyone (and didn't suck at it, like I do) you might be "leading your brother to sin." A large focus of the moves is looking sexy and cool. Zumba's motives are fun and fitness with a hint of lust and vanity.
Next you have spin which is really not that terrible except that you spend an hour spinning in circles not going anywhere, listening to angry music to push through the pain with no forward movement. And besides, you get just as much of a work out from riding a horse for an hour and it's much more fun (albeit more expensive). If there's anything good about spin it's that there are old ladies in those classes who can kick your butt. At least it humbles your pride.
I have gone to a number of yoga classes at my gym- some very different from what I'm used to. I have been going to yoga on and off for years and found myself enjoying a class that was less of a boot-camp/pushy work out and more of the spiritual side of yoga. But then it hit me, and after talking to my friend, really began to bother me that yoga in many ways was idolatry. First off, it is used as a religious practice in some ways and yoga in hinduism is not comparable to communion in Christianity, imagine how Christians would feel if some new age-y craze swept India and people began having communion but altering it to suit their needs- maybe turning it into some kind of party (pass the wine!) or simply partaking in all the traditions without truly believing it. In Yoga in America we use the same phrases, we bow, we speak of things like the "third eye," but we practice them without believing them. Aside from all this, as it is religious practice, in a way there is idolatry in that aspect if you are going along with really any of the spiritual aspects of yoga. Additionally, simply the phrases and beginning/ending of yoga practices have a self-focus. Yoga asks us to turn into the self, give ourselves gratitude, bow to ourselves and one another- in a way, it is self worship. In many ways in yoga, you make yourself an idol. Then there are the salutations to God's creation- but in many ways, if we are not careful, we find ourselves worshiping the created and not the creator. Of course, the creator is given much credit in Yoga- but there is too much credit ALSO given to the created (including ourselves).
All of these thoughts really bothered me. I love yoga and loved attending but found myself torn at a few yoga classes. There is nothing wrong with yoga as simply an exercise but the problem comes when it is misused- primarily when people do not see the danger. Typical yoga classes simply include phrases (like, "give yourselves gratitude," "bow to yourself")that are not scriptural and are bad theology so when we here them or think it is ok to adopt them, things can get very sticky. I found that I was ok with yoga as long as I turned my thoughts out to God and skipped the bowing to myself/using phrases that implied theological statements I would not agree with. But for a while, I began to have a yoga crisis. Ridiculous, I know.
So, there you have it- Yoga bring idolatry in the form of self and nature/creation worship.
Finally, I tried a Body Combat (Les Mills) class. Body Combat was incredibly fun and a great workout but I could not get over the ideas behind it. Part of my issues go with my job related instincts to defend, hold, and contain rather than attack, punch, and knock down. But at the same time, these instincts are healthier and of he spirit, I think. In Body Combat the instructor would yell things like, "take that person down! These are not aerobics knees, these are cracking-someone's-head-on-your-knee knees!" Or, "I don't know what this person did but they deserve it- elbow them in the face!" "Look at that person and punch them! Knock them out!" The aggression, the anger behind the movements was bothersome. Most of all, the concept of retribution and justice that we take it upon ourselves to enact rather than forgiveness or rehabilitation. So, here you have not doing unto others as you would have them do unto you, aggression and rage.
I punched and kicked through Body Combat class, enacting some twisted justice on an invisible opponent and wondering if all the theology behind so many forms of exercise was rooted in some sin/some terrible theology. But here's the thing about group fitness rooms: They have mirrors. The instructor then said, "take a look in front of you at your opponent," and there I saw myself. All this sin that I pointed fingers at in all of these exercise classes was just a product of the self- and in my case, MYself. My only opponent in exercise, in life- the only opponent I am taking down in body combat is my (intentional space) self. Hopefully this year I can do a little bit better with killing my self off and replacing it with the Spirit.
Well, if you're thinking that, you're forgetting who you're dealing with here. If there's anyone who can turn something like taking fitness classes and turn it into the catalyst for an existential crisis, it's this girl. Who else goes to a fitness class and thinks about the theology behind what the instructor is saying?
Nonetheless, let's explore this. Let's take a theological trip through the many fitness classes of my gym. First, I went to Zumba, one of my favorites and something I had done before. It's a really fun workout that you don't realize is a work-out. Lots of modified salsa/latin (and a touch of hip hop) dance. And while I love it, a lot of the moves are pretty sexual and in a way, it's not exactly biblical as if you did these moves in front of anyone (and didn't suck at it, like I do) you might be "leading your brother to sin." A large focus of the moves is looking sexy and cool. Zumba's motives are fun and fitness with a hint of lust and vanity.
Next you have spin which is really not that terrible except that you spend an hour spinning in circles not going anywhere, listening to angry music to push through the pain with no forward movement. And besides, you get just as much of a work out from riding a horse for an hour and it's much more fun (albeit more expensive). If there's anything good about spin it's that there are old ladies in those classes who can kick your butt. At least it humbles your pride.
I have gone to a number of yoga classes at my gym- some very different from what I'm used to. I have been going to yoga on and off for years and found myself enjoying a class that was less of a boot-camp/pushy work out and more of the spiritual side of yoga. But then it hit me, and after talking to my friend, really began to bother me that yoga in many ways was idolatry. First off, it is used as a religious practice in some ways and yoga in hinduism is not comparable to communion in Christianity, imagine how Christians would feel if some new age-y craze swept India and people began having communion but altering it to suit their needs- maybe turning it into some kind of party (pass the wine!) or simply partaking in all the traditions without truly believing it. In Yoga in America we use the same phrases, we bow, we speak of things like the "third eye," but we practice them without believing them. Aside from all this, as it is religious practice, in a way there is idolatry in that aspect if you are going along with really any of the spiritual aspects of yoga. Additionally, simply the phrases and beginning/ending of yoga practices have a self-focus. Yoga asks us to turn into the self, give ourselves gratitude, bow to ourselves and one another- in a way, it is self worship. In many ways in yoga, you make yourself an idol. Then there are the salutations to God's creation- but in many ways, if we are not careful, we find ourselves worshiping the created and not the creator. Of course, the creator is given much credit in Yoga- but there is too much credit ALSO given to the created (including ourselves).
All of these thoughts really bothered me. I love yoga and loved attending but found myself torn at a few yoga classes. There is nothing wrong with yoga as simply an exercise but the problem comes when it is misused- primarily when people do not see the danger. Typical yoga classes simply include phrases (like, "give yourselves gratitude," "bow to yourself")that are not scriptural and are bad theology so when we here them or think it is ok to adopt them, things can get very sticky. I found that I was ok with yoga as long as I turned my thoughts out to God and skipped the bowing to myself/using phrases that implied theological statements I would not agree with. But for a while, I began to have a yoga crisis. Ridiculous, I know.
So, there you have it- Yoga bring idolatry in the form of self and nature/creation worship.
Finally, I tried a Body Combat (Les Mills) class. Body Combat was incredibly fun and a great workout but I could not get over the ideas behind it. Part of my issues go with my job related instincts to defend, hold, and contain rather than attack, punch, and knock down. But at the same time, these instincts are healthier and of he spirit, I think. In Body Combat the instructor would yell things like, "take that person down! These are not aerobics knees, these are cracking-someone's-head-on-your-knee knees!" Or, "I don't know what this person did but they deserve it- elbow them in the face!" "Look at that person and punch them! Knock them out!" The aggression, the anger behind the movements was bothersome. Most of all, the concept of retribution and justice that we take it upon ourselves to enact rather than forgiveness or rehabilitation. So, here you have not doing unto others as you would have them do unto you, aggression and rage.
I punched and kicked through Body Combat class, enacting some twisted justice on an invisible opponent and wondering if all the theology behind so many forms of exercise was rooted in some sin/some terrible theology. But here's the thing about group fitness rooms: They have mirrors. The instructor then said, "take a look in front of you at your opponent," and there I saw myself. All this sin that I pointed fingers at in all of these exercise classes was just a product of the self- and in my case, MYself. My only opponent in exercise, in life- the only opponent I am taking down in body combat is my (intentional space) self. Hopefully this year I can do a little bit better with killing my self off and replacing it with the Spirit.
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