This post was written for #killingmonsters, a Freedom phenomenon where
brothers and sisters in Christ share their monster-killing stories. For more
information about #killingmonsters, please check out the end of this post.
This post is about bullfighting, but I don't own any bullfighting
photos. I own cat photos. I'm single, and I live alone with 2 cats, Choochie
and Macho. After I leave for work in the mornings, they begin their daily nap
marathons. Cats are very independent animals, and they're usually solitary, but
I'm glad they have each other (especially when they're awake). It's good to
have a peer.
Bullfighting is a very controversial topic, and I don't mean to offend
anyone. (I started Windowbrawl in the first place so I could have a place
online to discuss controversial issues... but I've ended up using this blog to
talk about my relationship with God and my emotional healing instead.) I've
never seen any actual bullfighting up close, and I've never met any
professional bullfighters. I'm not pro-bullfighting or anti-bullfighting. While
I was growing up half-Hispanic, bullfighting was kind of a cultural icon that
was sometimes in the background, even if it was just on a wall painting in
somebody's living room.
Bullfighting is a major tradition that has a long, rich history,
usually in Latin American or European countries. (Unless it's been banned in a
country.) It's considered an art and/or a sport that usually ends with somebody
getting killed. (Hence the controversy.) There's nothing wrong with bulls. Somewhere
along the line, somebody just decided to make an art and/or a sport out of
fighting them. Once a bull charges into a bullfighting ring, the bull becomes a
monster. Still, almost everything about bullfighting is either misunderstood or
has the potential of being misunderstood, especially in another culture. For
example, take the spectators' cheering of the Spanish word "ole." From
what I understand and have been told, the spectators aren't cheering
"oh-LAY"; they're cheering "OH-leh." I don't exactly
understand the meaning of "ole," but it's a cheer, a crazy
exclamation that comes from the gut while you're in an emotional moment.
Because of the diversity of cultures and because of the controversy,
there are many different varieties of bullfighting. Sometimes they don't draw
any blood, on purpose. Sometimes the bull's life is spared, on purpose.
Sometimes female cows are fought instead of male bulls. But in general, what
happens is something to the effect of this: The bull enters the ring, the
bullfighters dance and prance around the bull, they wave a cape at the bull,
they stab the bull, the crowd shouts "ole," the bull dies.
But bullfighting can be extremely risky and dangerous. Sometimes the
bullfighters get gored to death in the ring. Sometimes the bull charges the
people in the crowd. However, if bullfighting is done skillfully, it can be a
thing of beauty that could inspire some beautiful works of art. Perhaps you've
seen one or more velvet paintings of a bullfight. Bullfighters get to wear some
pretty snazzy costumes. Sometimes music is performed before or during a
bullfight. Outside the ring, people have written music about bullfighting. Even
Bugs Bunny ended up in a bullfighting ring because he took a wrong turn at
Albuquerque.
I'm not exactly sure why, but bullfighting has also inspired behavior which
I personally think is foolish and dumb. I understand that the annual Running of
the Bulls is traditional and all, but... if a bull is let loose in the middle
of a city, don't visit the city so that you can get chased by a huge, heavy,
angry, dangerous bull. Tradition or no tradition, for crying out loud, stay the
heck out of town!
So, God has helped me see that bullfighting is a lot like loneliness-fighting.
And it's interesting that the word "bull" can have more than one
meaning.
Loneliness is different than solitude (good aloneness) and isolation (bad
aloneness). Loneliness itself, in my opinion, is vastly misunderstood. From
what I understand, loneliness is NOT a sin. While I'm a human being living on
this earth, there's a strong chance that loneliness is going to happen to me. I
think God saw that coming. He said in Genesis 2 that it wasn't good for a man
to be alone; yes, He was talking about marriage, but I think He was also
talking about being human in general. In Ecclesiastes 4, He said that two are
better than one. I don't think God has banned loneliness-fighting, and I don't think He punishes
people for being lonely. Psalm 68 says that He puts the lonely in families. He
understands that loneliness can hurt, and He wants to take care of anyone who's
lonely. And I think He also wants to kick loneliness' butt.
What makes loneliness a monster isn't the fact that I'm by myself. I'm
an introvert. Being by myself is good, because that's how I recharge. Putting
me in a room full of people won't necessarily cure my loneliness, because I
crave deep friendships. Having a string of surface-level conversations for a
couple of hours will drain me and will usually make me feel even lonelier. However,
having a face-to-face conversation with at least one deep, lasting, faithful
friend will refresh me while fatally stabbing my loneliness. ¡Ole! (I've just described my personality, but everybody's personality is different, and your loneliness bull may charge differently than mine does.) For me,
loneliness isn't a monster that gets killed once or gets hacked away at
gradually until it finally dies. For me, loneliness has been a recurring
monster. I usually get a new monster every week. My loneliness bull usually charges into the ring every Friday. People around me often have weekend hangout plans and I often don't, so the monster will start gnawing inside my gut or my heart.
Loneliness is a liar that feeds other monsters that I've been in the
process of killing, such as rejection or abandonment. I have to anticipate that
the bull will charge, and I have to skillfully dance and prance around the bull
and stab it until it dies. The most efficient way for me to kill my loneliness
is getting some time face to face with a deep friend, but I can't always count
on that happening. What I CAN count on is God meeting with me, but He's a very practical
God, too. I need to be ready to dodge bull such as "Nobody wants to spend
time with you" or "You're not important to anybody" or
"Everybody has forgotten about you." Getting to know myself is
important. Waving the cape of "Hmm, I think I'll enjoy my evening by grocery-shopping" or stabbing the knife of "I'm going to enjoy my evening by dancing to obscure folk music with my cats" is fancy footwork that distracts,
weakens, and injures my loneliness bull. ¡Ole! I might not be getting the deep
friendship time that I crave, but I can invite God into my living room while
I'm swing-dancing with my surprised-looking tabby. Hmm. Smell that? We're
cooking up some bull burgers tonight.
But fighting my loneliness bull can get really dangerous really fast if
I'm not careful. If I'm not actively engaged in my cape-waving or stab-dancing,
I could hurt innocent bystanders or myself. I could allow the bull to charge at
anyone who's around me. Or I myself could get gored. If I don't conquer the
bull on a Friday, it could hang around on Saturday and Sunday. Or it could
surprise-attack me at anytime. On a recent Monday holiday, I spent 3 hours
doing nothing -- not in a good way because I was resting, but in a bad way
because I was moping. (Perhaps I was technically clinically depressed for a few
hours, but God was there, and He and I were talking, and we worked it out, and
I don't plan to cry into my pillow in the middle of a sunny afternoon anymore.)
However, if I fight my loneliness bulls skillfully, I could enjoy some beauty
that I could share with other people. I'm artsy-fartsy. People write songs
about loneliness all the time, and I think it's because it makes them feel
better. Catharsis helps me tremendously. Stuffing my loneliness (or any other
feeling, for that matter) instead of expressing it healthily to God will make
me rot inside. Pouring my heart out to God, especially if it's in a cool way
like in a song or a poem, will puke out the bad feelings and turn them into
something useful and inspiring.
And, of course, the loneliness bull has also inspired behavior which can
be foolish and dumb. While the monsters have gnawed at me, I've thought things
like "Now I understand why people go to bars: There are PEOPLE there"
or "If I were to become an exotic dancer, at least people would pay
attention to me." I think maybe God pulls His hair and screams something like
"For crying out loud, just stay the heck out of there!"
I can't force people to spend time with me and cure my loneliness. But
God gives me weapons to fight the bull. And He's faithful to meet me wherever I
am. I'm still learning about the Psalm 68 concept of Him putting the lonely in
families. (What makes a "family"? Is it just genetics? Is it just
shared interests? Is it just showing up at the same meeting every week?) And
I'm learning that loneliness is a bull that's worth fighting. My sense of
self-worth and my sense of being are worth fighting for. I'm worth fighting
for.
At any rate, God IS my family. I belong with HIM. HE is the One who
protects me, covers me, and takes care of me. Whether I'm skillfully dancing
and prancing, or whether I'm using every shred of my will to stay away from my
pillow in the middle of a sunny afternoon, the bull can't touch me while I'm
hiding underneath the shadow of God my Family. I may not be His evenly matched
peer, but I'm His.
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