lufrombarcelona

[lufrombarcelona]

Faith & Some Laws of Physics

My favorite part of swimming in the sea is the temporary escape it gives me. A few breast strokes and some scissor kicks propel me from the overly crowded beach into the deep and more solitude waters. My body cuts through the water like a hot knife through butter: easily, smoothly, and effortlessly. I know I've reached my destination when the playful slush of the waters drowns the voices on the shore. It is here where I can turn down the dial of my thoughts and simply exist.

I float in the silence, as I do in the water. As much as I'd like to momentarily sink, Archimedes' Principle holds as I stop fluttering my legs beneath the surface and relax my body. Like a steady cascade, my thoughts begin to leave my head, trickling down through my body, I can almost always feel them flow through the fibers of my muscles. From the source, they make their way down my body to my appendages, like blood naturally circulating down to my extremities. Unbound by laws of nature, my thoughts seemingly drain from my body. I'd be lying to say they disappeared - they surround me, keep me afloat.

I inhale deeply.

As my body extends, my toes and fingers peer out from the water. "Little sausage glaciers", I sometimes think as they surface into my peripheral vision. I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and let my ears submerge in the water. I hear and think nothing, and, in these moments, I simply am.

****

My first anxiety attack was in 2017. Looking back to that moment, it was clear that my ambitions and the shifting landscape of my personal life would edge me to this moment - as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20. My parents had separated and a divorce was clear in the horizon. Shortly before, I had moved out of our family house for the second time, but unlike the first time I moved out for college this instance seemed definite - I would never return to the same house again.

Pencil in hand and my eyes fixed on the practice exam before me, I sat in the guest bedroom of my apartment as I had five times a week, for the previous two months, studying and taking practice Law School Admission Tests (LSATs). I was under pressure, literarily. I did my best to balance my full-time job and personal life with my dreams of going to law school.

Three times a week I would sit down and take a practice exam composed of four 35-minute sections, after my eight-or-so hours work day. On the two other study days, I would review those exams meticulously. As I corrected the exams, I would repeatedly think, "How could I have made such a silly mistake?" Over, and over, and over again.

Anxiety is an unwanted companion. It is ruthless, unforgiving, and an unbiased predator that will pounce at your peace no matter your emotional state.

****

Faith is belief in the improbable and it is unfalsifiable. Faith has many forms, but for me, it is the belief in the existence of a divine being, His presence in each molecule of every creature. His existence is evidenced by love, nature, and empathy.

A fala de Deus é lógica E quem não percebe em tempo Do fruto da vida não conhece o sabor

O sopro de Deus é vento Na trilha do pensamento É o macio no algodão, no algodão

A arte de Deus é tudo É o acontecer do mundo É o bater do coração

Geraldo Azevedo's take on God's existence is beautifully captured in his song, Tudo é Deus. A loose and more personal translation of the three verses above:

The language of God is logic, and those who fail to embrace His presence miss out on the full pleasures of life

God's breath is the wind in our thoughts, it is the tenderness of what is organic

God's creativity is everything, it is the conception of the world, and the beating of the heart

There is some irony to these lyrics in the context of this post. If faith in God makes for a sweeter life and His breath guides our thoughts, how could I still be plagued by anxious thoughts?

****

In 2023, I am still haunted by the thought "how could I have made such a silly mistake?" The thought is redundant and often forces me to question my own sanity and, quite frankly, my own intelligence. It's not a great feeling. But, unlike six years ago, I have learned to be more self-compassionate, and when I am not able to practice self-compassion, I know I can turn to God's infinite and constant love.

Anxiety is corrosive, it eats at our mental and physical health. It distorts reality, often magnifying small issues into problems of cosmic dimensions. It lives in the echo-chamber that is our brains, the one into which we shout "I'm not good enough!", and confidently trust in when the same phrase reverberates into our ears. Anxiety amplifies the human tendency to see the worst in ourselves.

To me, this is why faith is so important.

Where the human thought can be self-flagrant, God is compassionate. Where human thought can be imprisoning, the grace of God is liberating. Where our brains may tell us "you are not enough", God shouts back "you are more than enough!"

****

Much like the LSATs, self-compassion is an art that takes practice. It requires thought, introspection, and time. A lot of time. I have been going to therapy on-and-off since 2019, and continue to struggle to put self-compassion into practice.

The irony to holding Christian beliefs is that you must straddle the worlds of faith and logic. In Geraldo Azevedo's song, in my loose translation he sings:

The language of God is logic, and those who fail to embrace His presence miss out on the full pleasures of life

The language of God is logic. Logic, much like faith, cannot always be proven, but it is something that is, and that we accept, when it is sound. Anxiety is illogical, it is the fear of what has not yet happened and yet it controls our lives. It deprives us of the present and robs us of opportunities. When we are fearful, we are less willing to take chances in others and in ourselves.

I think I continue to be plagued by anxious thoughts because I have not fully trusting of God. I am skeptical. I can be stubborn. I don't like letting others guide me. But I'm learning that the more I let go of control and let my faith guide me, I am less fearful.

****

My body, enveloped by the water, sways in the gentle tide. Neither tethered nor anchored, I am instinctively aware that I am no longer in the same place.

Eyes still closed, I exhale and slowly let my limbs sink below the surface. My head ascends from the water as I become upright, and I feel the small pools of water in my ears trickle back into the sea. The sun hits my face and I can see the translucent red of my eyelids. Before I can open my eyes, I know that I am closer to the shore. The voices of the multitudes are an assurance that I have been carried closer to (and not further from) the shore. I can discern the voices from what was seemed like white noise only moments ago.

I open my eyes and begin to take in the sights on the shore. Beach umbrellas. People playing beach volleyball. Naked baby bums. Couples and friends laying down together, their legs intertwined. Kids crashing into waves, the water breaking around their bodies as they run towards the sea.

I feel lighter, though I am exactly the same. I start to flutter my feet and to stroke my arms through the water. Left right. Left right. Left right.

As I near the shore, I know my body will no longer float. My feet will will find the ground and it will find my weight - Newton's Third Law will hold.

The ground will hold my weight.

[lufrombarcelona]

Home is Where the Heart is

As I write my first blog entry, I can't help but smile: my heart is full, my mind is at peace, my dogs surround me like a flock of pigeons in Plaça Catalunya, the angelic voice of Bedouine fills my bedroom, and I am home.

I am home.

When I created this blog, my intention was to christen it with a post about my life in Barcelona. About the "new" me, my new home, and my new beginning. Fortunately, each attempt at writing my first blog entry failed. It felt like writing an unfulfilling journal entry that begged to be ripped from a spiral only to be crumbled like unwanted direct mail marketing and thrown into the trash. Over, and over, and over again.

But, as the universe would have it, I am writing this post in Texas.

The truth is, I was terrified to return to Dallas for the summer and unwilling and unhappy about it. I don't know why I was so reluctant and scared to come back to Dallas - truthfully, I don't care to know. What is certain, however, is that God's plans are perfect and that my forced time in Dallas is an unforgiving and joyful reminder to go with the flow - to let my feet up in the waters, spread my arms out, close my eyes, and, as I float belly-up, let the current carry me.

So, today, I am right at home in Dallas. And next month, when I return to Barcelona, I will also be home. Because the concept of home defies a physical space. It is too grand to be reduced to a four-walled structure. Home is the people who we love and love us. It is the bonds that connect us across time and space. It is the reminder that even in our physical solitude, we continue to be loved and supported. Because - if you didn't see it coming - home is where the heart is.