Time Away and a Little Perspective

I haven't posted anything substantive in a while; in part I've been busy, but the truth is, I've also been in a little bit of a funk for the last month or two, and I wasn't ready to write about it. I've had this vague sense of unhappiness, of sadness that comes and goes. It hits me at odd times out of the blue, but fortunately it's not been overwhelming or long-lasting--but present enough for me to take note of it. This week I took a few days off to spend in The City--seeing friends, walking in my (former) neighborhood, attending evensong at the chapel at my seminary, hearing a lecture by Amy-Jill Levine, a Jewish NT feminist scholar who teaches at Vanderbilt. The three days away were relaxing and fun, but more importantly, I think, they helped to give me some perspective, and to process my feelings a bit. They allowed me to parse what exactly it is I've been missing.

Part of what I miss is the seminary. I miss the community seminary provided for me, the sense of common purpose, the friends I made there. I miss the physical location which is one of the gems of the city.

Part of what I miss is intellectual engagement. I am enough of a school nerd that I like being in classes. Seminary of course is not an end in itself, and many people can't wait to be done with it, and out in the real world. But for me (a former academic and a perpetual student) the classroom is very much part of the real world. I know that I can read and study on my own, but that doesn't always provide the same kind of engagement.

Part of what I miss is having female colleagues. I get along just fine with men, can work well with men, get along well with my boss, but I treasure and miss the female friends, mentors, and colleagues that I had in the city. Where I live now, I have no female colleagues, and I've yet to make good friends, male or female (there's that old injunction about not being friends with your parishioners, combined with the difficulty of meeting people outside of the church that makes this a difficulty for clergy in general). I've been lonely.

Part of what I miss is the city itself. I miss the diversity and the vitality of the people. I miss the activity around me. I miss walking the city. I miss the coffee shops and the bookstores and the delis and the cafes and the museums and the parks. I even miss the sound of the traffic on the street.

I live in a beautiful place, and I have a job I really like,and I've felt guilty even hinting that I might be unhappy here. I've always been a "bloom where you are planted" kind of person, adjusting to living in a variety of different places, and coming to love many of them. Maybe over time I'll come to love this place where I am now, and maybe I won't. The reality of clergy life means that I likely won't be here forever. I've already been trying to appreciate the good things about it--the birds and wildlife in my yard, the historical setting, the nearby ocean and bay, the welcome I've received in my congregation, the demands and joys of my job. The challenge for me now is to try to make up for some of the things I miss. Some things are more easily remedied than others--I can look for classes and lectures in Nearby City more readily than I can conjure more female colleagues in my area, and I can't turn my village into the city. But this trip boosted my spirits enough for me to realize that maybe I need to plan on a trip to the city every few months, and I need to stay connected with my long-distance friends.

None of this is earth-shaking revelation, I guess, but processing it and thinking it through, and talking about it a bit with friends seems to have helped, for the moment at least.