Spencer Moseley

Recently, someone assumed the worst, got upset with me, and attacked me verbally. I respect this individual, but it put me in a sour mood that I couldn't get rid of for a full 24 hours. It's painful to be angry. I felt tired, my forehead felt tense, and my chest was tight. I had my head slightly bowed all day considering different responses I could make to hurt this person and exact my revenge.  As I lay in bed, I turned on Sam Harris's Waking Up app (10/10 recommend), and his daily meditation invited me to wish loving kindness towards someone who hurt me. At first, I couldn't; but then he invited his listeners to consider how so much of why others hurt us comes from the fact that they themselves are hurting. I considered how this person who hurt me was himself hurting, and my whole attitude warmed. I felt my chest relax, felt my forehead wrinkles die down, and I felt at ease. I don't feel like I forgave this person at all. I feel like I understood this person, and ...

School was ending in Kindergarten and I went outside to wait for my mom to pick me up. I must have read some story about Jesus calming the storm, because I was outside waving my arms towards the sky and attempting to control the weather. My eyes were closed; I was in the zone. Until my friend, Billy, came up to me and said, "You're trying to be like Jesus, aren't you?" "Of course not," I replied, dropping my hands to my backpack straps. My face must have turned red and luckily Billy moved on to something else—like throwing stuff at girls or some other normal Kindergarten shit. This is the first instance I recall of trying to get attention.  I love acting, always have, and I'm good at it. I've nailed roles like the Elvis-themed-Pharaoh in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,  Scrooge in A Christmas Carol , Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream , and Ernie in It's a Wonderful Life . I've always had a knack for the stage and love pu...

Life is inherently dissatisfying. Dissatisfaction seems to arise from the expectation that one day life will be satisfying. That we will one day have answers to those deep existential questions: where did we come from, what is the meaning of life, and so on.  But all of these questions as of right now are unanswered. We see religion claim it knows that we were created by a God or that we are here to love others; but that still begs further questions. Where did God come from? Why did God choose to create life? So even claims of religion end up just as dissatisfying as claims of science in the sense that they don't bring us any closer to complete certainty about anything. Uncertainty seems to just be. For everyone. And to be honest, I don't know if there will ever be a "way out". That's kind of saddening. We are these creatures orbiting the sun in a seemingly infinite universe of randomness and happenstance. And all of us are different, with different needs and desi...

I am writing now to feel a little better. I was jogging with a relative and talking about all things life.  He's 11. He misses his friends and his nice teachers at school, and Covid has hit his lifestyle pretty hard. I felt sad. I realized I'm not so young, but I don't give my friends primary attention like he does. I haven't found that Asian-American, hybrid personality that focuses on both self-development and community. I'm concerned for me and my latent sadness. It's always there lurking beneath the surface with my anxiety. Some moments I'm free of this and jumping for joy, but most of the time I'm in touch with this tension in my neck and shoulders. This fear that I'm not living right, doing right. That I could be doing better if I was making more money or in a relationship or in better shape.  There's lots of models for better places to be than the place I am now, or at least that's how things appear. Usually I find when I dig a little ...

When I tell people I spent 6 years of my life as a seminarian, starting in high school, they often look at me in disbelief— their faces betraying a  "why tf would you do that" . Now might be a time to share some experiences. The Legionaries (LC's) were a militant, Catholic religious order known for loving the Pope and making loads of money from benefactors. All of us seminarians spent an hour a week writing to people we knew or barely knew asking for financial assistance. I can't speak to who the LC's are now, and I've heard they are a chill group of people now. We survived off of food donations when I was an LC. One time, the groceries we received from donors included chocolate ice cream bars that wouldn't melt in direct sunlight. Center Harbor, New Hampshire, where I spent my time as a high school seminarian, can get surprisingly hot and humid in Summer; but even NH's summer could do nothing against this strong, chocolaty boi. As I ate my bar, I ...

"Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it." -Words of Jesus from Mark 4:11 I hated most of my time in novitiate. I chose to be there, but high school seminary did not prepare me for this. In high school, I was told how awesome novitiate would be: developing a close relationship with Jesus, wearing a cassock, drinking. I didn't realize how infrequently I would be able to talk to my family or that I would spend the majority of those two years in absolute silence. Breakfast was a drag. We would sit there eating oatmeal after praying for an hour and a half (we'd woken up at 5:30 am to do this). All I could hear during breakfast was the clanking of silverware on bowls and plates; and spoons sliding on platters passed from novice to novice. Waiters would patrol the cafeteria and novices would get their attention by raising a hand when they wanted a refill.  Our days were structured in high school, but there were many departures from the daily routi...

"Our hearts are restless until they rest in you." -St. Augustine "Happiness does not exist outside the Catholic faith." -Anonymous I almost said, "quarantine has made me restless," but had to phrase it more honestly: "I have been restless during quarantine." There are moments when I am happy. Usually I'm lost in the moment and appreciate whatever is going on around me. But other times, I can't get there. I try to find a path to happiness, and maybe my chemistry is imbalanced, or my anxiety is too high; but I lose my creative approach to inner freedom. My synapses stay separated like the index fingers between God and Adam. I have heard from close friends that the only path to consistent happiness is Catholicism, which used to be my focal point of return in tough times. I would be miserable and remember that Jesus loved me no matter what, that he died for me. I would sit in front of the Eucharist and encounter that love. No other ...