So a few years ago, there was this great big hullabaloo about bullet journaling. Mindfulness! Productivity! Organization! Analog thinking in a digital age! Here’s a link to the website.
I loved the idea. I love a lot of ideas–it’s honestly a problem for me, if I’m not careful. But I liked the foundational principle, because I like making lists, and I like checking things off lists. I’d tried methods before, and I had these grand designs for hand-written journals, and deep, perfectly symmetrical notebooks–are you a notebook person? Someone who can’t help but buy those little books at the front of bookstores, and fill them with (ultimately) your best intentions? I’ve gotten better with that; I don’t buy any except the annual bullet journal anymore.
I don’t want you to hear “bullet journal” and think of this:
There’s nothing wrong with the above, if that’s your thing. I have noticed, digging through pages upon pages of “interesting page ideas,” that there’s got to be a lot of pre-formatting that happens with these posts, right? I make mistakes all the time, and it took a long time to just cross out the mistake and keep going; to miss a day or week and pick it back up. I can appreciate the stuff above, but it’s very… manufactured.
I don’t do it in color. I don’t draw. I have pretty straight forward pages. I’m happy with it.
I have monthly pages. This is my monthly tracker–and yeah, I know, I didn’t exercise a lot in the top of the year.
This is what my weekly tracker looks like–I have some tasks every day, I try to mindfully reflect at the end of the day on what was accomplished (left hand margin); I keep notes and little bits of information on the right hand margin, and goals at the bottom right. The goals line up to the Seven Points.
I recommend bullet journaling–it’s simple, it has helped me keep things in line, and I suppose I’m more mindful. I recommend you practice grace with yourself. If you want to do the ornate, full-color, taped up pages, go for it–but I’ve found more success with a pen, going one day at a time.
…upon further reflection–I am really not trashing people who do the very planned, meticulous pages. I do not personally find value in it. But if that is the means and modes of self-expression for you, go for it. I don’t care, so long as it does cause or perpetuate harm, really.
On my best days, I get up just before five in the morning. I say morning prayers. I pour a cup of coffee. And I spend about thirty minutes studying scripture. In 2020, it was First Corinthians. This year, it’s Second Corinthians.
Believe it or not, I’m not sharing this information so I can seem like Such A Better Person Than You.
A few years ago, my friend Casey asked what part of the Bible I was studying. “Oh,” I said. “I’m doing this series on Galatians in the spring, I think, so I’ve been really getting through commentaries,” and she cut me off. “For yourself,” she said. “What are you studying for your own spirit, for your own development?”
So yes, this is kind of a pastor-specific post, but bear with me here–in all the hubbub of planning studies and prepping sermons, I’d lost track of the spiritual practice I enjoy the most–Bible study.
I formalized it in 2020–I want to be clear: I did personal Bible study prior to last year. Last year, however, I made a ridiculous goal and actually succeeded: Go through First Corinthians with three commentaries. The ones I chose were J. Paul Sempley’s from The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Richard Hays’ from the Interpretation Commentary series, and Gordon Fee’s massive tome from the New International Commentary on the New Testament. I went pericope (chunk of text) by pericope (chunk of text), usually early in the morning, with a few Saturday marathons.
It’s more about this: I set a goal and stuck to it. I’m a big thinker; I live in my head and the future, and I sometimes struggle with the idea of completing something and the work it takes to do so. (The idea is just as good, I believe at the onset, as actually completing it.) It’s nice to have thoroughly studied a foundational text of Christianity. I bought two more commentaries to work through as I type up my notes, after I finish 2 Corinthians. In the picture below, you can see the few notes I have–the yellow pages on top of the shelf.
If you are looking for a spiritual practice and you’re not so big on silence or stillness, I recommend the deep study of scripture. Grab a couple commentaries–they’re surprisingly cheap at used bookstores, go figure; bookshop.org has a few new ones, surely. Find some time, open some scripture, say a prayer, and start taking notes. I’ll even write out some steps, right here:
Pick a book that’s not super long, and not remarkably complex. Don’t start with Jeremiah or Ezekiel, is what I’m saying. If your goal is to get through an entire book, choose something doable–a minor prophet, an epistle. Do you prefer narrative, or are you all right with theology?
Get a couple of commentaries–at least one academic. Historical, literary, ideological, and all those other contexts matter, as do the original languages. It’s fine if you want to use “Laity Dave’s Quick Jaunt through Philippians,” it really is–but learn something. Also feel free to skip the paragraphs in which syntax is parsed and parsed and parsed.
Print out the scripture double-spaced. You’ll want to take notes on some word choices and orders–translations into English are, by definition, imprecise because they’re not in Greek. What does it mean for “power” to be exousia rather than dynamis? You may think nothing right now–but you’re mistaken! Make notes on the printed out scripture, keep it with your notes.
Set aside actual time to do it. Twenty minutes, once you get into the groove and become familiar with the commentators, is a productive amount of time. I can never do more than forty in a sitting. My brain has enough, and that’s okay.
Invite the Holy Spirit to guide your study. Because this is feeding your Spirit and deepening your faith. Why wouldn’t you want the presence of the Divine invoked and blessed for it?
Make good mistakes, don’t get caught up in form. In the picture below, you’ll see I have a picture of my notes from Hays Chapter 11:17-34, which was broken up in the commentaries as vv. 17-22, 23-26 and 29-34. Because of how I formatted the printouts, I put the third page of the notes, and only the third page of the notes, in the new section with the printed out scripture. If you’re thinking, “This has no bearing on anything I care about, Arthur,” you’re absolutely right! That right there is the point: these are your notes. Throw them away when you’re done, if you want. But again, why would you do that?
And, as with exercising, as with journaling, as with anything that matters in the work of transformation–if you miss a day, or a couple days, or a week, or two weeks: just come back to it. Turn the page and start up again. Because if it–whatever it is–is about doing something flawlessly and effortlessly the first time, you probably should not be reading this blog nor doing anything suggested herein.
Are you going to study scripture this year? What are you thinking about? Need recommendations? Want to tell me why I’m wrong about everything? Leave me a comment, drop me a line!
While establishing the baseline yesterday for Transformation Tuesday, I said I’d post about my go-to workout in 2020 (and probably for at least the start of 2021): The Thousand Reps. So I found this in early 2020, from darebee.com (which, if you’ve never been, is a marvelous free resource that you should use, and donate to–they are not a sponsor of this blog. Yet?) It’s a challenge to do 1,000 reps of exercises in a day, stacking six exercises however one wishes to do so.
I made two changes over the seven months I’ve been doing this–instead of jump-in planks, I do knee-to-elbows; instead of hop-heel clicks, I do high knees. These changes came over time–I work out on a concrete porch, my knees couldn’t take the hop-heel jumping (and yes, I could have just changed my form!)–but here’s a sample of numbers from workouts.
Please note I’ve kept track of these only since June, when I began this kind of exercise in earnest. (In 2020, I worked toward The Thousand Reps 74 times, reaching the goal three times.)
high knees (hop heels)
elbows-to-knees (plank jump ins)
four sets, four sets and five sets, respectively
The intention behind the design of The Thousand Reps may have been to do numerous workouts in a day, but I don’t have the time for that. I do 1,000 in less than thirty minutes, with adequate rest between sets. It only took me six months to figure it out–and I more or less took October off.
For the mathematically uninclined, The Thousand Reps is done in five sets of 25 push-ups, sit-ups, high knees and elbow-to-knees, and then fifty squats and fifty jumping jacks. When this becomes easy, I will add a sixth set, or increase the number of reps per set. But right now, in January 2021, I’m happy to aim for 16 bodyweight exercise sessions, and eight The Thousand Reps workouts.
I joked with B. the day I hit one thousand, “Now I don’t have to work out anymore.” It’s sometimes hard to stay motivated, after six months of working toward it. And there were so many plans–I’ll get to 750 by September, and 850 by October–and it took one day to just snap and insist on doing one more set. And here we are.
You can do this too. Start with what you can do, and then do a little more every day. It is possible–I’m living, walking, talking proof–and then you get to say things like, “Oh, I do 125 sit-ups each workout,” and feel smug as you grate cheese on your abs.*
What’s your go-to workout? Do you use equipment at home? What’s that like?
*actual results will vary; I probably have abs, but I also love cheese.
My alarm went off at four forty-five today–I did not kick it from a regular weekday schedule, and I think my phone believes I’ve given up on holidays. (It no longer asks, “Tomorrow is Flag Day (Observed); would you like to forgo your alarm?) I gave my orange cat Copperfield his dose of pain meds, and saw that it was snowing out.
Y’all. I love snow. I wrote about it some yesterday, before the next beginnings of today, because I really love snow. It’s a blank slate. It’s a callback to good days of childhood. It makes the world–at least the world under inches, the world of a few miles–be so intentional and examine their priorities.
As I went back to bed at five a.m., having drugged the cat and thought about doing Vigils (I went to sleep hours past my bedtime, I was groggy), I thought, “Well there goes the Best Morning on the first day of the year.” I promptly let go of that self-criticism, and went back to sleep.
Do you have a morning routine? I’ve developed one in the last six months. Here’s a picture of it, rather than a list:
On what I call best mornings, I rise early. I say prayers, I have coffee, I meditate on Hafiz a little, and I study scripture. I convince myself I should work out, and then do so, trying to negotiate away sets with myself the whole time. I sometimes succeed at stopping early.
This morning, I woke up and stayed in bed a bit. I watched the snow come down with B in a quiet house. I had a bagel and cream cheese a friend of ours shipped from New York. And I still found the time to pray, and do the daily Psalms, and sit with Hafiz, and look out on the next beginning of the next year.
I know a few years ago, I would have considered the year blown by sleeping, or not following a regular order, or not hitting every barely-considered self-made barrier checkpoint from the beginning. Resolutions that don’t have room for failure–repeated failure, complete failure, overt failure, unintentional failure–aren’t resolutions but self-loathing written down in a numbered list.
This is what I know: Today is a new day, just like yesterday was, and just as tomorrow will be. Therefore today I can strive to become more, and maybe through God’s grace and increased discipline, I will. And maybe I won’t–and tomorrow’s a new day.
I needed the snow this morning. It’s really coming down, and though it is supposed to stop at noon, I kind of hope it goes and swirls and falls all day and night. A good reminder for one like me who needs to live in next beginnings.
I grew up outside of Saint Louis, Missouri, and we had snow in the winter. Maybe not a lot, but some, and I cannot remember a winter without it.
I moved to Texas in 2007, and there were maybe three instances of meaningful snow. (There was also the time TCU cancelled classes for two days because of an eighth of an inch of snow, but that’s not to be discussed on this blog, surely.)
I am now in Kansas. We are expecting five to eight inches. I am very excited because I love snow. I am very excited, too, because it is to happen tonight, the last night of 2020, and into the morning of the first night of 2021.
This is not a blog about New Year’s Resolutions. This is a blog that begins, formally, on the first of January because I have benchmarks and goalposts in this continual work of transformation–I want to work toward something–and I am so very excited to start the new year.
I have recently talked resolutions with a few friends, and none of them do New Year’s Resolutions. To be honest, I don’t officially, either–I take inventory, alter course, and keep aiming for the next right thing. I love calendars and goal tracking–tonight’s my jam, y’all! It’s okay to start over again and again and again, so long as there’s progress. I realize it means it’s not a clean restart–there’s always nuance.
Today is a simple day. I will be taking care of some work matters that must be addressed. I’ll be reading for class in a few weeks, and then making dinner. Tonight, I have no idea what we’re going to do until midnight, because The Kid has decided she’s going to try to stay up. At some point, I will be archiving my orange book and blessing the 2021’s Blue Book. And I am going to watch the snow fall. I am so ready, I hope it does not get blown off course.
Welcome to arthur the lesser, though we begin in earnest tomorrow. Bundle up!