The Freelance, Unconventional Nun Has Chosen a Theme Song.

www.katieherzig.com

*8 Things: What I Love About My Tribe

1. I don’t think they realize they are my “tribe”

2. They come from a wide range of backgrounds

3. They want to talk about the big, scary things

4. We can never go to enough concerts

5. They are women

6. They are strong

7. We LAUGH so hard the neighbors often ask us if something was wrong because they thought they heard someone scream

8. Through all the things we’ve seen we still believe in fairy tales. 

If it hadn't been for this *8 Things I wouldn't have been able to put up the blog I did. I had been sitting on the thoughts for a while but it wasn't until I made my list that I realized how to word what I needed to!

Be inspired by Magpie Girl and join *8 Things yourself!

The Freelance, Unconventional Nun: Thankful

The Freelance, Unconventional Nun is one party cynical, one part bitter, one part wounded.  This is what I left you with last.  But I am also hopeful and thankful.  The point of FUN is not that I am single, a man-hater or a whiny twenty-five year old.  The point is that I’m not alone; I have an amazing community around me.  Like I said it’s been a long year for my friends and I.  We have found more than enough to laugh and cry about and for me this has led me to realization that what I needed was them. 

I was always one of those women who would get my friendships with boys confused (for reasons discussed last time).  I got to a point at the end of 2007 when I decided that I wasn’t going to touch boys.  This was a very funny and extreme resolution because at that point I had still never even been kissed.  It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle the physical contact, hugging is one of my favorite activities.  I just felt my friendship needs changing and knew that I was in some sort of self-preservation mode.

When I moved back to the states from New Zealand I was pretty much on my own.  I moved back in with my family for a summer and had no friends in town.  My best friend lived an hour away with her husband.  I found solace in my books and I devoured Anne Lamott.   I used the season of separation to evaluate my life.  What were the things I wanted? Needed? Dreamed about?  I started to see many of my needs change. 

This most obvious change needed was spiritual.  The practices I had been doing no longer seemed to have the same effect they once did and needed to be reevaluated.  The way I viewed my friendships needed changing.  I have always had great friends around me, but I was appreciating them in a whole new way except that now they were very far away.  I knew that in Seattle I would have a chance to explore both of these aspects of life. 

When I got to Seattle I moved into a house with three women who had traveled and lived and loved and educated themselves and weren’t afraid to speak up at the many things they saw as injustices.  They also weren’t afraid to share good wine, or books or music or spirituality or the various parts of life called art.   I also found a church community that was completely different from anything I have ever been apart of it (yet another chapter in my episodic spiritual life).   One night they made an announcement about the women’s group, Hysteria, and said to talk to Jolie about it if we wanted to know more.  After the service I promptly found Jolie and asked, “Are you the woman who has hysteria?”  (Which got even funnier when I looked up what ‘hysteria’ means.)  Jolie told me that yes, she was one of the founding mothers of the group that was created to be a place for women to share their lives, drink wine and create. 

As I became a part of this group, I realized that it feed my soul far more than a large church gathering did.   I meet people my roommates go to grad school with and have been pleasantly surprised by some of the amazing women I work with.  I then started to see how these great friends I was making are really the “church” I have been looking for.  These women are strong, beautiful, courageous, brilliant spiritual and grounded.  We aren’t an organized group sitting in rows.  We gather around dinning tables and coffee shop patios and books and lakes and wine and each other. 

The Freelance, Unconventional Nun has so many parts it’s hard to explain them all in one go.  In fact I’m still foggy on who she is and what she does but that is life right? We gather together with people in places around things and we learn about life and we cry and laugh and hopefully we don’t miss the gifts that as we women share with each other.

 

 

*8 Things: What I Know For Sure

1. I am a sensitive flower.

2. The Ocean and the Mountains breath life into my soul.

3. If I couldn’t write I would die.

4. I exist.

5. Sometimes I just need to check out.

6. I want a quiet life.

7. Traveling is what keeps me going.

8.  I have faith the world can change. 

 Be inspired by Magpie Girl and join *8 Things yourself!

A Little Rumi For You...

Obviously not a FUN original but one that is speaking to me today more than anything else.  Rumi is one my favorites.  He was a Persian Poet from the 13th century, a Muslim and a mystic.  

I will give up anything to win your heart

but if you say no,

I will accept and walk away filled with

the sweetness of your denial.

I have come secretly to seize your flame for my soul

I have come to steal from the King's treasure

but if I do not succeed,

I will accept and walk away knowing

where the gold is hidden.

Play your tricks, pinch my hat if you like

but I will walk away with your golden belt!

Tempted for so long to have a vision of you

I myself have turned into a vision.

You have seized the fortress of my heart,

your love arrows can split even a mountain,

how can my poor heart ever escape them?

I don't even dare to mention your name

and call you "My Moon"

jealous that others may discover you.

-Rumi, translated by Azima Melita Kolin & Maryam Mafi

Here is a great clip from the Daily Show that actually shows beauty within the chaos of Bagdad and shows the poetry of the past still inspires new generations to create.  (I think only American's can see the clip...sorry about that ;)

What the F*ck Was I Thinking?

The Blog You've All Been Waiting For: The Freelance, Unconventional Nun?

I will now tell you about freelance, unconventional nunnery.   It’s an idea that was birthed after witnessing too many boys gone bad.   I was telling a co-worker about it and he pointed out that as an acronym, Freelance Unconventional Nun spells F.U.N.  Ironic. 

A couple weeks ago my friend Josh asked me what the Freelance, Unconventional Nun (FUN) was.  I told him that it “basically means I’m bitter.” I don’t like this reality, but it’s true.  The term was coined at the beginning of the year and has been a collaboration effort.

It started with a boy that shall remain nameless whom I was involved with for a few months when it ended quite bitterly.  In the wake of this I got lost in the flood that is my string of “relationship-like experiences.” Thinking back over the last few years and contemplating the possibility of becoming a lesbian, I came to the realization that my only real option was to become a nun.  

During our homemade happy hour I announced to Nicole that I was becoming a nun.  She then presented me with the idea of being “unconventional” which allows me to avoid the vows of celibacy and poverty if I want to (it changes daily).   Later that week I was telling Paula at work about my unconventional Nun-hood and how it was all on my own terms.  She responded with “Oh, so you’re freelance.” So you see, while F.U.N. is my current identity the credit belongs to many.

I’ve had a string of what I like to call “relationship-like” experiences.  All of whose identities will be protected even if I don’t want to.   I’m a girl who likes boys, always have and I think I always will.  I have a lot of friends who are girls who also like boys.  So we find these boys…somewhere.  Things are fun.  Relationships build, and then things go awry.  This seems to be the normal cycle of single men/women relationships.

I think I’ll start with myself (while trying to protect identities).  There was a time in my life when I lived in what some would call a commune.  Through our community came and went a man who caught my eye (let it be noted that I will now mash a few men into one).  We spent a lot of time together, maybe too much.  He displayed many of the characteristics of a gentleman that would be distracting to me, but we were living in this environment that was not conducive to normal romantic relationships.  Over the course of many months unsaid feelings grew too strong.  Finally the day came when (in usually an embarrassing manner) I divulged my feelings.  Maybe I wrote a letter or brought it up during a long car ride so neither of us could escape. The result was often the same: In an effort to save the little bit of face I had left, I still never told the full truth.  Usually I was in some sort of second place, but at least I was pretty and a great friend.  Ouch.  Let me tell you the problem with this story.  The problem is that all these things that were happening went un-mentioned and un-validated.  In the end everything was just left ambiguously hanging for us all to ignore.  I moved and moved on.

So, now I live in Seattle.  I’m surrounded by girls, which I reckon is pretty good.  It can be more dramatic but with fewer love triangles.   There will always be the ambiguous relationships that hang over our heads, slightly mess with our hearts and lead to a few tears.   However, this year my friends and I have witnessed some situations that have left us all a little catatonic. 

I will start with Laura’s story.  She has given me permission to use names.  His name was Chris Conners, at least that’s what he said. He was a good boy, led the church youth group, lived in a community of men and snowboarded (supposedly).  He gave Laura great presents like backpacks and Chacos and a trip to New York which were all paid for with the money he stole from her and wicked web of lies he weaved over the course two months.  I kid you not folks.  Turns out upon further investigation he was a pathological liar. 

Ok, and then there are more great stories, which, for their own good I will fabricate details so as to get across the ridiculousness of them without breaking trust or faces.  Let’s see, there is the boy who can’t make up his mind so he keeps all the ladies around for “options”.  There is the man who just decides that he wants to beat his wife and leave.  There is the ex-lover stalking.  How about “I don’t want to hold hands with you in public, but why don’t you spend the night.” There is the guys who awkwardly pauses after seeing someone’s facebook photo because her personality is apparently lost in the shadows.  Should have had a better photographer.  There is the emotional whore.  There are the ones who like the “young ones,” and the ones who ignore her until he needs something. 

It has been a long year for my friends and I.  Its easy to joke about it, laughing is better than crying right? We have seen many situations play out before us, sometimes involving us; things that have left us wondering whether this love thing is real, whether we’ll ever find someone we can enjoy and be broken with and have the opportunity to forgive in the moment rather than the explosions and pain that are rooted to deep to ever rectify.  Some of us are wondering if any of it is even worth it considering the divorce rate.

I’ve just painted a not so pretty picture of men but let me take a minute to clarify that women aren’t out of the clear either.  I myself am one of the most emotional people I know.  People like me read into things and often put too much weight on things.  It often feels like we hurt ourselves in this sad, masochistic way, but who is responsible for the ambiguous interactions and words that leave us wondering what the hell that could have meant?  And what happens when someone finally wakes up and decides that all the things we were trying so hard to ignore have affected us?  What happens to those of us who find ourselves hurt by both jerks and great men alike because we were simply hoping for something good?   My little bit of experience tells me that men often don’t think enough and women think too much.   Women are taught to sit quietly and be pursued, to not speak up.  For me, I usually don’t want to scare him off.  I seem to forget that if he is scared off, then he probably wasn’t as strong as I deserve anyway.  Either way, we don’t call men out when they are messing with our heads and hearts whether they are aware or not.

The Freelance Unconventional Nun is one part cynical, one part bitter, one part wounded.  The first two sometimes are only there to camouflage the third.  But there are moments that can still be F.U.N.     …to be continued