Your Body is a Seed

When I was younger, I used to practice giving interviews in front of the mirror. To prepare, I'd swipe my finger across rows of lipstick, eyeshadow, and rouge that sat potbound in one of those makeup palettes purchased for pennies; it all looked like the color of whoopee cushion by the time it reached my face. Then, I'd hop onto the bathroom counter, close the door, and practice my winningest answers (and smile) to questions like, "How does it feel to be the youngest girl ever to win an Oscar?" or "What's it like being married to a part-time nurse with three kids and a career on Wall Street?" I was interviewer, interviewee, and even commercial spokeswoman between segments. I was in love with the experiment of becoming me.Last month, I got to listen in on a media training workshop from the inimitable Macky Alston. The training was part of a Courage & Renewal retreat I helped lead for the Beatitudes Society, a nonprofit whose mission is to equip young progressive Christian clergy in becoming public theologians and agents of change. (Interested in nominating someone for next year's fellowship? Click here.) Macky was a masterful teacher, helping us to be ourselves in front of the camera, to peddle in stories and not just points, to say it fast and say it often. But more than that, he was a damn near motivational speaker. I swear to you he melted everyone in the room when he said, "I could make an award-winning documentary on any one of you." We had the stuff of legends within us simply because we were made by one.I remind myself of this when I do real interviews now with people like Jonathan Merritt at Religion News Service or Shane Blackshear at Seminary Dropout. Sometimes I get word that a drive time show in Decatur wants to talk to me for twenty minutes. Other times it's a print journalist on a deadline and could I be available tomorrow or - better yet - later today? Sometimes it all happens so fast I forget to have fun. I forget there's another legendary human on the line. I forget I've got what I need within me (and, thanks to Macky, my core message in front of me).I do still remember to put lipstick on, yes, even for radio.I love talking, writing, breathing the new book whether on the phone or in my sleep. I've never loved any work more. But as the days grow longer and warmer, I find myself unable to keep pace, unable to keep away from the sun and soil and sidewalks. It struck me reading Scripture this week that our bodies are like seeds."The earth produces of itself," Jesus says (Mk 4:28). Our only job is to rest in the ground beneath us. And stretch toward our nutrients when needed.The seed is in love with the experiment of becoming grown.If the lesson of winter was "making friends with the dark," the lesson of spring is "allowing myself to be a seed." This means napping in the sun when the book stuff feels too urgent. This means going outside when my body is done at the desk. This means pouring a glass of wine when the dog puts her paws on my thighs and says, "Enough." Some days this happens embarrassingly early, like 2:30 early, and I just let it.I let myself grow. My body is not a machine.It's a seed.