Do you ever get that unutterable sense of "knowing" in your belly? The one that convinces you of a thing, even if everyone says your wrong.
I think of it like intuition--resting under layer after layer after layer of consciousness. It sits quiet at the bottom of a dark ocean; cushioned by miles of undisturbed waters. When you're not listening, it still speaks, it's just you can't hear it. But it never shouts. It waits to be heard.
I'm usually struck dumb thinking, what's it saying? How should I respond?, I'm always reading hieroglyphics, always after long sprints, never reaching a finish line, and always barely finding what I'm looking for.
There's a good chance I'm sprinting in the opposite direction. Or in circles. Or the destination is right under my feet but my expectations don't recognize it.
And the funny thing is, I could beat myself into the ground running, but the little voice at the bottom of the ocean would never care. It goes on with or without me and all my attempts to dissect it's meaning. Down there, it's a different world entirely. I'm starting to think the message itself is less concerned with hearing and more with my way of hearing.
CS Lewis says you can never have something you want too desperately, because you aren't able to possess it. Is our desire to hear from God like that sometimes? What if we chase answers, because, in our hearts, efficiency sits like a fat king on his throne while the good prince wanders aimless in rags. We are prometheus stealing fire from Zeus--except Yahweh.
Maybe it is when we stop wanting God's advice so badly, and begin to want His presence more, that we hear his voice more clearly. It's like when you're in a relationship and then suddenly everyone wants you, or how everyone compliments your hair the day you don't style it, or when you searching for something you lost, and you don't find it until minutes after you've thrown your hands up in the air in desperation.
There are two ways to listen. One person listens, but you can see it in their eyes they are trying to use your words to form their next thoughts. Another person listens and comes inside your words. They move with the rhythm of what you're saying. They have a posture of listening. They delight in you.
Maybe, (just maybe), the last thing God wants to do is give us advice when we're so bent on stealing it for our own good. Maybe he wishes we would just sit and listen for listening's sake--the way we would listen to a friend or a lover. Because we delight in Him.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Love in Song of Solomon
Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners. -6:4
A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse, a spring shut up, a fountain sealed. -4:12
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night. -5:2
Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it; if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned. -8:5-6
So intense.
A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse, a spring shut up, a fountain sealed. -4:12
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night. -5:2
Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it; if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned. -8:5-6
So intense.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
On Submission
Submit to God--resist the devil and he will flee from you.
From a relevant magazine writer, "Submission to a right authority always means a corresponding refusal to submit to a false authority. Eve’s submission to the Serpent’s word meant she refused to submit to God’s. On the other hand, Mary’s submission to God’s word about the child within her meant she refused to submit to Herod’s. God repeatedly charges His Bride, the people of Israel, with a refusal to submit to Him because they have submitted to the advances of other lovers. The freedom of the Gospel means, the apostle tells us, that we “do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1)."
http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/relationship/features/27577-women-stop-submitting-to-men
From a relevant magazine writer, "Submission to a right authority always means a corresponding refusal to submit to a false authority. Eve’s submission to the Serpent’s word meant she refused to submit to God’s. On the other hand, Mary’s submission to God’s word about the child within her meant she refused to submit to Herod’s. God repeatedly charges His Bride, the people of Israel, with a refusal to submit to Him because they have submitted to the advances of other lovers. The freedom of the Gospel means, the apostle tells us, that we “do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1)."
http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/relationship/features/27577-women-stop-submitting-to-men
Saturday, December 17, 2011
True Self False Self
Last night I picked up a newspaper article titled: The True Self vs. the False Self, and was mildly surprised by how insightful it was. So I read it again today.
The argument is as follows: your essential nature is your true self--like God's handmade blueprint of your unique design, with preferences, longings, quirks, and behaviors. External forces from society either enhance or suppress your true self. When they do, you start to live out of your false self, a product of the you that people expect you to be.
We do this because our human desire for positive attention and affection is so strong. "In the course of life, the true self is sacrificed in favor of the false self in order to win approval, acceptance, and love."
So much of who we are is a product of what others have decided about us. However, the way we act might not be who we really are. This dichotomy creates conflict. "When we speak and behave in ways that are different from who we really are there is an internal fragmentation, or split, between the true and false selves."
Ask yourself these questions: Do you have difficulty making decisions? Do you easily fall into peer pressure? Do you feel a nagging sense of emptiness? Do you worry excessively about how others are thinking of you? If you answered yes to all of them, you're probably living out of your false self.
The true self, in contrast, comes with a sense of substance and fulfillment. Some of the people we respect the most are guided by it. They don't need to have a sexy job title to feel important. They don't need to wear designer clothes to feel beautiful. These people walk to the beat of their own drum and if you're not beating along, then, oh well.
Don't you want to be like that?
The argument is as follows: your essential nature is your true self--like God's handmade blueprint of your unique design, with preferences, longings, quirks, and behaviors. External forces from society either enhance or suppress your true self. When they do, you start to live out of your false self, a product of the you that people expect you to be.
We do this because our human desire for positive attention and affection is so strong. "In the course of life, the true self is sacrificed in favor of the false self in order to win approval, acceptance, and love."
So much of who we are is a product of what others have decided about us. However, the way we act might not be who we really are. This dichotomy creates conflict. "When we speak and behave in ways that are different from who we really are there is an internal fragmentation, or split, between the true and false selves."
Ask yourself these questions: Do you have difficulty making decisions? Do you easily fall into peer pressure? Do you feel a nagging sense of emptiness? Do you worry excessively about how others are thinking of you? If you answered yes to all of them, you're probably living out of your false self.
The true self, in contrast, comes with a sense of substance and fulfillment. Some of the people we respect the most are guided by it. They don't need to have a sexy job title to feel important. They don't need to wear designer clothes to feel beautiful. These people walk to the beat of their own drum and if you're not beating along, then, oh well.
Don't you want to be like that?
Monday, December 12, 2011
Brokenness and Hope in Hugo
Robert Mckee says, "Every effective story sends a charged idea out to us, in effect compelling the idea into us, so that we must believe."Hugo does this and more! I never see a movie twice, but this was worth it both times around.
The obvious theme of the movie is brokenness. Little orphan Hugo, who lives in a clock, desperately tries to repair his mechanical automaton against all odds... as a means of fixing himself (his loneliness, the pain of his father's death and his lack of purpose).
Then there's the blue jacketed train station inspector who finds sick pleasure in locking little orphan boys up in the orphanage. And finally, there's George: by appearances a toy shop owner, but really a famous film director in cognito who hides his identity because memories of the past hurt too deeply.
These 3 characters reveal 3 main ways people deal with their brokenness.
1) Accept and inflict: The inspector was orphaned himself as a child. His life of hardship led him to believe that the world is a cruel, cold place where you don't need family to survive. His world is reduced to functionality. "We're here to get on trains or off them. That's it," he says. With no hope for healing, he accepts life as it is and inflicts the same calamity he endured on others.
2) Ignore and keep moving: George lives in quiet resignation. Life dealt him a bad card, and so he resents anyone who reminds him of it. With no hope for healing, he bitterly shuts out the world and manages his toy shop.
3) Confront and hope for healing: All three characters acknowledge their broken condition, but Hugo is the only one who believes he can be fixed. In tearful desperation, he finally admits that if he fixes his automaton, maybe it will write for him a message from his father and "he won't feel so alone anymore." This hope makes him risk his reputation, his life, his health, everything. And it changes him. Halfway through the story, Hugo finds his purpose in fixing George, not just himself.
The beautiful felt idea of this movie is that healing only comes through hope. To me, the most moving part of the story was when Hugo was having awful night terrors, but every time he woke, he'd look at the automaton sitting there next to his bed: motionless, silent, "waiting." Earlier in the movie, Hugo's friend says, "Why does he look so sad?"
Hugo replies, "I think he's just waiting."
And I thought, wow, that's exactly what hope is like. While our fears (anchored in irrationality) are warring and tearing at our hopes, our hopes (anchored in reality) are unwavering, unchanging, and waiting to bring us healing. Not only for us, but for the other broken people in the world we're meant to encourage through the process. And this is life: one person's brokenness lends to another person's healing. When you admit that you are broken, you become more sensitive to the brokenness in others, and when they've lost all hope, the hope that carries you on carries them on.
Hugo was the reason why George came alive again, and if it wasn't for his brokenness--or his hope--George would have went on living a life of quiet resignation. At the opening of George's magic show, he thanks Hugo with the words:
"I am standing before you today because of one brave boy, who saw a broken machine, and against all odds, he fixed it. It was the kindest magic trick that ever I've seen."
Lets be that for each other.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Blanket
Today, truth feels like a blanket. I want to just wrap myself up in it, sit on the living room couch and gaze out the window for an hour without being interrupted.
Friday, December 2, 2011
December Truth
When they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things. Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between themselves: Who exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Nobody
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd banish us - you know!
How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Frog -
To tell your name - the livelong June -
To an admiring Bog!
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd banish us - you know!
How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Frog -
To tell your name - the livelong June -
To an admiring Bog!
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Abolition of Man
"In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midsts. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful." -Abolition of Man, Lewis
Monday, November 21, 2011
Little Post-it Notes
I have these little post-it notes in my memory bank. I think they are filtered by the information processing police in my brain keeping track of what's-important and what's-not.
I never get to read them until years later, but today I got to see one!
I was 17 when I fell into young dumb love for the first time. It was all the movie scenes--pushing shopping carts, kissing in the rain, writing songs about each other. When you're falling in love, inconsequential things are always pregnant with meaning, and this was one of those times. We were sitting in the car, mellowing out to some weepy emo song when I asked him to tell me what he dreamed of. Where was he, what was he doing, what was he feeling, at the most perfect moment he could imagine?
He said he was walking down a street positioned in a quaint little town, wearing a big black peacoat and gloves. The best feeling was the warmth of someone else's hand in his on a cold, winter night.
I told him I pictured myself in a rustic, sort of trendy run-down basement in a big city where things happened that shaped the world. I was praying with a group of close friends that God would move and do something through us as a community.
He said that sounded awesome, started the car, and we drove home.
He wouldn't even remember this conversation happened. I didn't remember it--until I realized that, 3 years later, we were both living out our dreams. He moved back home and dated a pretty blonde for three years. I moved to Manhattan and tried to change the world (/realized that world changing is slightly more fun in theory than in practice).
Your dreams really do inform your life. Think about them, verbalize them, see if they match up with someone else's. I always wondered why it didn't work out with that guy. Maybe it's because we had different dreams.
I never get to read them until years later, but today I got to see one!
I was 17 when I fell into young dumb love for the first time. It was all the movie scenes--pushing shopping carts, kissing in the rain, writing songs about each other. When you're falling in love, inconsequential things are always pregnant with meaning, and this was one of those times. We were sitting in the car, mellowing out to some weepy emo song when I asked him to tell me what he dreamed of. Where was he, what was he doing, what was he feeling, at the most perfect moment he could imagine?
He said he was walking down a street positioned in a quaint little town, wearing a big black peacoat and gloves. The best feeling was the warmth of someone else's hand in his on a cold, winter night.
I told him I pictured myself in a rustic, sort of trendy run-down basement in a big city where things happened that shaped the world. I was praying with a group of close friends that God would move and do something through us as a community.
He said that sounded awesome, started the car, and we drove home.
He wouldn't even remember this conversation happened. I didn't remember it--until I realized that, 3 years later, we were both living out our dreams. He moved back home and dated a pretty blonde for three years. I moved to Manhattan and tried to change the world (/realized that world changing is slightly more fun in theory than in practice).
Your dreams really do inform your life. Think about them, verbalize them, see if they match up with someone else's. I always wondered why it didn't work out with that guy. Maybe it's because we had different dreams.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Water Slow
Any bud can grow
Into a full-blown rose,
So be careful where you water
And always water slow.
Choose how you may,
But you may be misguided
There are hues of every shade,
And thorns of many sizes.
Into a full-blown rose,
So be careful where you water
And always water slow.
Choose how you may,
But you may be misguided
There are hues of every shade,
And thorns of many sizes.
Friday, November 11, 2011
A good relationship should have...
1) The "secret thread" that turns strangers into close friends.
"You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words...Are not all lifelong friendships born at that moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling...of that something wich you were born desiring..."
-The Problem of Pain
2) The ability to share everything.
"The person love does to us fit, like manna, has the taste of all in it."
-Emerson
"For a good wife contains so many persons in herself. What was H. not to me? She was my daughter and my mother, my pupil and my teacher, my subject and my sovereign; and always, holding all these in solution, my trusy comrade, friend, shipmate, fellow-soldier. My mistress; but at the same time all that any man friend has ever been to me. Perhaps more. If we had never fallen in love we should have none the less been always together, and created a scandal...Solomon calls his bride Sister. Could a woman be a complete wife unless, for a moment, in one particular mood, a man felt almost inclined to call her Brother?"
-A Grief Observed
"You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words...Are not all lifelong friendships born at that moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling...of that something wich you were born desiring..."
-The Problem of Pain
2) The ability to share everything.
"The person love does to us fit, like manna, has the taste of all in it."
-Emerson
"For a good wife contains so many persons in herself. What was H. not to me? She was my daughter and my mother, my pupil and my teacher, my subject and my sovereign; and always, holding all these in solution, my trusy comrade, friend, shipmate, fellow-soldier. My mistress; but at the same time all that any man friend has ever been to me. Perhaps more. If we had never fallen in love we should have none the less been always together, and created a scandal...Solomon calls his bride Sister. Could a woman be a complete wife unless, for a moment, in one particular mood, a man felt almost inclined to call her Brother?"
-A Grief Observed
Thursday, November 10, 2011
A Sea of Flight
She hobbled through the whole world blindCause she just wanted to rest her eyes,
Just wanted to rest her eyes.
She loved the darkness more than light,
The hazy cloud of the quiet night
Where no foul thing could harm or bite.
Her tools were too worn down to fight,
So she bathed herself in a sea of flight
In the hazy cloud of the quiet night.
She just wanted to rest her eyes,
Just wanted to rest her eyes.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
What is Masculinity?
All my girlfriends seem to be itching to get married, while my guy friends are postponing it as long as possible. What's the deal?
When you think of marriage, it doesn't even seem to fit the "alpha male" nature. When a guy is single and using women, people will say, "He's just being a guy."
It's a shame that our view of masculinity is so base and...animalistic. Tim Keller in The Meaning of Marriage says that throughout history this trend was reversed. Marriage was actually the means by which males became truly masculine. "For most of Western history, the primary and most valued characteristic of manhood was self-mastery...a man who indulged in excessive eating, drinking, sleeping or sex--who failed to 'rule himself'--was considered unfit to rule his household, much less a polity..."
Our definitions of "what's masculine" and "what's not" are off. As women, we are partly to blame because we expect nothing more of men than their baser qualities and then blame them for not marrying us.
We perpetuate the idea that "guys are just gonna be guys" when that idea doesn't even represent what real masculinity looks like: someone who's affections are not easily moved, someone who knows what they want and is willing to fight for it, someone who is secure enough in his own person to love you selflessly, not because he is trying to fill a void in himself.
A man that can rule himself is truly captivating.
When you think of marriage, it doesn't even seem to fit the "alpha male" nature. When a guy is single and using women, people will say, "He's just being a guy."
It's a shame that our view of masculinity is so base and...animalistic. Tim Keller in The Meaning of Marriage says that throughout history this trend was reversed. Marriage was actually the means by which males became truly masculine. "For most of Western history, the primary and most valued characteristic of manhood was self-mastery...a man who indulged in excessive eating, drinking, sleeping or sex--who failed to 'rule himself'--was considered unfit to rule his household, much less a polity..."
Our definitions of "what's masculine" and "what's not" are off. As women, we are partly to blame because we expect nothing more of men than their baser qualities and then blame them for not marrying us.
We perpetuate the idea that "guys are just gonna be guys" when that idea doesn't even represent what real masculinity looks like: someone who's affections are not easily moved, someone who knows what they want and is willing to fight for it, someone who is secure enough in his own person to love you selflessly, not because he is trying to fill a void in himself.
A man that can rule himself is truly captivating.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Dancing at night on a kitchen floor
Midnight shadows dance along
Somewhere a piano drones on and on
Beauty finds it's favorite song
To linger here before it's gone.
Body moves and twirls it's feet
Forward, back, again, repeat
We're making marks on the kitchen floor
Faking peace in a time of war.
Somewhere a piano drones on and on
Beauty finds it's favorite song
To linger here before it's gone.
Body moves and twirls it's feet
Forward, back, again, repeat
We're making marks on the kitchen floor
Faking peace in a time of war.
Art is War
Feeling demotivated? Lame? Procrastinating? Don't want to be an artist anymore?
Read this book. Now.
It helps readers channel their creative energy, unlock potential and overcome the fears that stop them from reaching their fullest potential.
By following the theme of resistance (a universal force that never rests from attacking awakening artists from creating) it makes us aware of what we're up against in any meaningful, creative endeavor.
Resistance tells you to forsake the noble for the easy. Quit your writing projects and get a normal job, settle down with that person you aren't madly in love with, put off that project just one more day. Resistance does anything it can to stop you. It shows up in all kinds of forms - and not always like the green ugly monster in your closet - it sometimes uses even the most reasonable arguments to get you off track.
It's one thing to know it in theory, but in practice, we have to keep in mind that art is war. It's not always fun and redeeming and fulfilling to create beautiful things that captivate people's hearts and attention. There cannot be victory without bloodshed.
The best way to battle resistance is to get up each morning and do the hard work of creating, regardless of how we feel. This is the difference between the amateur and the professional. The amateur creates for the high of creating, the professional refines his/her craft until near perfection - and this can only happen by simply waking up every day and doing it.
So today, if it feels like all of the universe is battling against you in your attempts to do something great, be encouraged. It means that what you're doing is worthwhile, and if you keep putting the work in, you're on your way to it.
And if you don't feel that way--what are you doing?
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Wisdom
Interesting that this chapter only mentions a few practical things you need to do to get wisdom. so I guess they are important. Like...
-Be willing to sacrifice. Line 7 says, "though it cost all you have, get wisdom."
-Stay away from evildoers.
-Guard your heart (not as an afterthought. "Above all else...")
-Don't talk perversely.
-Look ahead at what's in front of you (not at what other people are doing or what happened in the past).
-Think through a step before you take it.
Proverbs 4
1 Listen, my sons, to a father’s instruction;
pay attention and gain understanding.
2 I give you sound learning,
so do not forsake my teaching.
3 For I too was a son to my father,
still tender, and cherished by my mother.
4 Then he taught me, and he said to me,
“Take hold of my words with all your heart;
keep my commands, and you will live.
5 Get wisdom, get understanding;
do not forget my words or turn away from them.
6 Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you;
love her, and she will watch over you.
7 The beginning of wisdom is this: Get[a] wisdom.
Though it cost all you have,[b] get understanding.
8 Cherish her, and she will exalt you;
embrace her, and she will honor you.
9 She will give you a garland to grace your head
and present you with a glorious crown.”
10 Listen, my son, accept what I say,
and the years of your life will be many.
11 I instruct you in the way of wisdom
and lead you along straight paths.
12 When you walk, your steps will not be hampered;
when you run, you will not stumble.
13 Hold on to instruction, do not let it go;
guard it well, for it is your life.
14 Do not set foot on the path of the wicked
or walk in the way of evildoers.
15 Avoid it, do not travel on it;
turn from it and go on your way.
16 For they cannot rest until they do evil;
they are robbed of sleep till they make someone stumble.
17 They eat the bread of wickedness
and drink the wine of violence.
18 The path of the righteous is like the morning sun,
shining ever brighter till the full light of day.
19 But the way of the wicked is like deep darkness;
they do not know what makes them stumble.
20 My son, pay attention to what I say;
turn your ear to my words.
21 Do not let them out of your sight,
keep them within your heart;
22 for they are life to those who find them
and health to one’s whole body.
23 Above all else, guard your heart,
for everything you do flows from it.
24 Keep your mouth free of perversity;
keep corrupt talk far from your lips.
25 Let your eyes look straight ahead;
fix your gaze directly before you.
26 Give careful thought to the[c] paths for your feet
and be steadfast in all your ways.
27 Do not turn to the right or the left;
keep your foot from evil.
-Be willing to sacrifice. Line 7 says, "though it cost all you have, get wisdom."
-Stay away from evildoers.
-Guard your heart (not as an afterthought. "Above all else...")
-Don't talk perversely.
-Look ahead at what's in front of you (not at what other people are doing or what happened in the past).
-Think through a step before you take it.
Proverbs 4
1 Listen, my sons, to a father’s instruction;
pay attention and gain understanding.
2 I give you sound learning,
so do not forsake my teaching.
3 For I too was a son to my father,
still tender, and cherished by my mother.
4 Then he taught me, and he said to me,
“Take hold of my words with all your heart;
keep my commands, and you will live.
5 Get wisdom, get understanding;
do not forget my words or turn away from them.
6 Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you;
love her, and she will watch over you.
7 The beginning of wisdom is this: Get[a] wisdom.
Though it cost all you have,[b] get understanding.
8 Cherish her, and she will exalt you;
embrace her, and she will honor you.
9 She will give you a garland to grace your head
and present you with a glorious crown.”
10 Listen, my son, accept what I say,
and the years of your life will be many.
11 I instruct you in the way of wisdom
and lead you along straight paths.
12 When you walk, your steps will not be hampered;
when you run, you will not stumble.
13 Hold on to instruction, do not let it go;
guard it well, for it is your life.
14 Do not set foot on the path of the wicked
or walk in the way of evildoers.
15 Avoid it, do not travel on it;
turn from it and go on your way.
16 For they cannot rest until they do evil;
they are robbed of sleep till they make someone stumble.
17 They eat the bread of wickedness
and drink the wine of violence.
18 The path of the righteous is like the morning sun,
shining ever brighter till the full light of day.
19 But the way of the wicked is like deep darkness;
they do not know what makes them stumble.
20 My son, pay attention to what I say;
turn your ear to my words.
21 Do not let them out of your sight,
keep them within your heart;
22 for they are life to those who find them
and health to one’s whole body.
23 Above all else, guard your heart,
for everything you do flows from it.
24 Keep your mouth free of perversity;
keep corrupt talk far from your lips.
25 Let your eyes look straight ahead;
fix your gaze directly before you.
26 Give careful thought to the[c] paths for your feet
and be steadfast in all your ways.
27 Do not turn to the right or the left;
keep your foot from evil.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Glory and Sacrifice
Glory is always in front of us. It's screaming out, whispering, dancing in our imagination. It haunts us with all the exoticness of circus acts and dark magic. Untamed--like a liquid-pure fire in the dusty, closet-corners of our hearts--glory lies dormant until a finger to the stove reminds us it's there.
You always hear those stories about that one kid believes he can fly because Spiderman does. So he puts on the halloween costume and nearly jumps off the roof, until his mom catches up with him in the nick of time and screams, "noooooo! Don't do it!"
When true glory comes to me, I wish I had the guts to be that stupid. When it whispers in my ear, "I'm worth it," I want to throw down everything and spend the next ten years chasing it. But people say, "No, that's ridiculous. Don't do that."
Glory is like excellence, but it's not just that. Good jazz bands, exquisite paintings, fast company businesses, even a espresso maker can be excellent. But glory is different. It soaks in truth and life; it seems to be young and old, never tired and never searching. It's depth is bottomless, ageless, and eternal. It just is. When you touch it, you know it, and your life is never the same.
I was driving to the recording studio the other day with my mom, telling her about how music is going with Mike. She said, "Oh you'll be touring before you know it." I said…"Really??? Sometimes I feel crazy pursuing music. Are you sure it's worth it?"
Music has never been my only dream, but now that I'm out of school I feel like I am sacrificing so many good things to do it. I can't live in NY with the people I love. I can't get married soon. Can't have kids. Can't take cool boring jobs that make a lot of money..
My mom got teary eyed. "Of course it's worth it Leah. It's the most profound thing you do."
I stared out of the window and watched the trees zip by. Even if it didn't work out, of course it's worth it to try. Everyone should do what makes them profound.
Everyone should pursue glory, even if it calls for sacrifice. I'm starting to think glory is born from sacrifice.
You always hear those stories about that one kid believes he can fly because Spiderman does. So he puts on the halloween costume and nearly jumps off the roof, until his mom catches up with him in the nick of time and screams, "noooooo! Don't do it!"
When true glory comes to me, I wish I had the guts to be that stupid. When it whispers in my ear, "I'm worth it," I want to throw down everything and spend the next ten years chasing it. But people say, "No, that's ridiculous. Don't do that."
Glory is like excellence, but it's not just that. Good jazz bands, exquisite paintings, fast company businesses, even a espresso maker can be excellent. But glory is different. It soaks in truth and life; it seems to be young and old, never tired and never searching. It's depth is bottomless, ageless, and eternal. It just is. When you touch it, you know it, and your life is never the same.
I was driving to the recording studio the other day with my mom, telling her about how music is going with Mike. She said, "Oh you'll be touring before you know it." I said…"Really??? Sometimes I feel crazy pursuing music. Are you sure it's worth it?"
Music has never been my only dream, but now that I'm out of school I feel like I am sacrificing so many good things to do it. I can't live in NY with the people I love. I can't get married soon. Can't have kids. Can't take cool boring jobs that make a lot of money..
My mom got teary eyed. "Of course it's worth it Leah. It's the most profound thing you do."
I stared out of the window and watched the trees zip by. Even if it didn't work out, of course it's worth it to try. Everyone should do what makes them profound.
Everyone should pursue glory, even if it calls for sacrifice. I'm starting to think glory is born from sacrifice.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The Will of God
"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will."
Figuring out the will of God is like trying to solve a Rubik's cube. On a rare rare rare occasion you get all the colors on the right sides, but most of the time you're sitting there for hours thinking, what the hell. You thought God called you here and you want to be there...you thought God said take that job and now you are ripping your hair out...you thought he would have warned you about THAT curveball...
I get weary with the specifics. There are too many variables and outcomes to understand why things are happening and what God is up to--which is why I love that his general will is so clear. Always the same. The narrative of God's documented involvement with us (aka the Bible), spanning thousands of years and cultures, culminates in two hopes: good news has come into the world, and God is bringing His Kingdom here to earth.
God's kingdom is about healing, restoration, and fullness of life. His will is that we would partner with Him in bringing about his kingdom.
So wherever we have an opportunity to get alongside that vision and get our hands dirty, lets do it. Rubik's cubes are a waste of time.
Figuring out the will of God is like trying to solve a Rubik's cube. On a rare rare rare occasion you get all the colors on the right sides, but most of the time you're sitting there for hours thinking, what the hell. You thought God called you here and you want to be there...you thought God said take that job and now you are ripping your hair out...you thought he would have warned you about THAT curveball...
I get weary with the specifics. There are too many variables and outcomes to understand why things are happening and what God is up to--which is why I love that his general will is so clear. Always the same. The narrative of God's documented involvement with us (aka the Bible), spanning thousands of years and cultures, culminates in two hopes: good news has come into the world, and God is bringing His Kingdom here to earth.
God's kingdom is about healing, restoration, and fullness of life. His will is that we would partner with Him in bringing about his kingdom.
So wherever we have an opportunity to get alongside that vision and get our hands dirty, lets do it. Rubik's cubes are a waste of time.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Loneliness
I'm beginning to think that loneliness is our natural condition--even though there's nothing in the world that feels more unnatural. We keep the curtains open, people nearby, and the lights glaring on as often as possible, so that eerie, sinking sensation doesn't settle in.
Distractions seem to help. Especially infatuation. Finding someone magical and feeling that exotic rush in your bones. Until years go by and you're lying next to your soul mate, still feeling lonely.
Having a baby, doing drugs, going shopping, constantly volunteering - there are a million ways to drown the ache of loneliness.
It's a cruel outlook, right? Humanity wanders aimless, pushing, wanting, and striving to believe in its own fulfillment for happiness... wherever it can get it.
And then there's friendship. CS Lewis says that "true friendship is the least jealous of loves." Where lovers are exclusive, friends are inclusive. The more the better. Spending time with friends that you have deep affection for brings you outside of yourself in a manner that seems ordinary, but is so divine. Old couples sitting on a park bench, two friends discussing their passion for poetry, kids riding bikes, families eating together, telling stories, taking walks...
But even these substitutes are temporary because friends betray us and lovers cheat on us. People die. Dreams die. Sometimes you sit on a park bench alone. Hand holding doesn't fix some things.
The ache can be subtle, like a sore or bruise, but sometimes it's excruciating, like needles in your heart and throat. You can't eat. Your dream too much and sleep too little. You're sick even though there's nothing wrong with you. I think this state of heart, soul, and mind is what Ecclesiastes calls "The House of Mourning."
It is better to go to a house of mourning
than to go to a house of feasting,
for death is the destiny of everyone;
the living should take this to heart.
It's a bizarre statement. Is it really better to attend a funeral than a wedding? Better to cry than to laugh?
For death is the destiny of everyone, the living should take this to heart. Feeling hopeless, unsatisfied dead-ended, and alone does strange things to you. You begin asking harder questions. You take a step back and wonder about the destiny of human life.
You get perspective.
In the house of mourning, we become convinced the strongest hands can't help us and the deepest wells are still too shallow. Our substitutes aren't working.
The house of mourning is the place that you become fully alive because it brings you to a raw place of trust. You don't have to be the circus act coordinator of your own happiness. You find rare jewels like contentment, thankfulness, joy, and peace that can sustain you in the hardest seasons.
Loneliness is an incurable disease on this side of heaven, but it leads us to the house of mourning, where we are reminded that our natural condition is not so much loneliness as it is dependance.
Distractions seem to help. Especially infatuation. Finding someone magical and feeling that exotic rush in your bones. Until years go by and you're lying next to your soul mate, still feeling lonely.
Having a baby, doing drugs, going shopping, constantly volunteering - there are a million ways to drown the ache of loneliness.
It's a cruel outlook, right? Humanity wanders aimless, pushing, wanting, and striving to believe in its own fulfillment for happiness... wherever it can get it.
And then there's friendship. CS Lewis says that "true friendship is the least jealous of loves." Where lovers are exclusive, friends are inclusive. The more the better. Spending time with friends that you have deep affection for brings you outside of yourself in a manner that seems ordinary, but is so divine. Old couples sitting on a park bench, two friends discussing their passion for poetry, kids riding bikes, families eating together, telling stories, taking walks...
But even these substitutes are temporary because friends betray us and lovers cheat on us. People die. Dreams die. Sometimes you sit on a park bench alone. Hand holding doesn't fix some things.
The ache can be subtle, like a sore or bruise, but sometimes it's excruciating, like needles in your heart and throat. You can't eat. Your dream too much and sleep too little. You're sick even though there's nothing wrong with you. I think this state of heart, soul, and mind is what Ecclesiastes calls "The House of Mourning."
It is better to go to a house of mourning
than to go to a house of feasting,
for death is the destiny of everyone;
the living should take this to heart.
It's a bizarre statement. Is it really better to attend a funeral than a wedding? Better to cry than to laugh?
For death is the destiny of everyone, the living should take this to heart. Feeling hopeless, unsatisfied dead-ended, and alone does strange things to you. You begin asking harder questions. You take a step back and wonder about the destiny of human life.
You get perspective.
In the house of mourning, we become convinced the strongest hands can't help us and the deepest wells are still too shallow. Our substitutes aren't working.
The house of mourning is the place that you become fully alive because it brings you to a raw place of trust. You don't have to be the circus act coordinator of your own happiness. You find rare jewels like contentment, thankfulness, joy, and peace that can sustain you in the hardest seasons.
Loneliness is an incurable disease on this side of heaven, but it leads us to the house of mourning, where we are reminded that our natural condition is not so much loneliness as it is dependance.
Two Verses
"The hand of the diligent will rule."
"Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes."
"Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes."
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Adventures in Befriending Total Strangers
Transportation devices are like these conversation breeding machines where everyone is the other's equal. It does't matter if you're a congressman, an eight year old, a hipster, a carpenter...it's like democracy at it's finest. (Or a tyranny where the bus driver is king).
I might be 1 in 1,000 people who feels this way, but 999 times out of 1,000, if you put it out there, the person responds as if they feel that way too. If you put out the genuine vibe, they come back with it. It's like transferring energy or something.
On buses, plains, trains, boats, I have talked, laughed, wept, prayed and shared music with perfect strangers, and I just needed to verbally process that it's one of the best feelings whenever it happens.
I might be 1 in 1,000 people who feels this way, but 999 times out of 1,000, if you put it out there, the person responds as if they feel that way too. If you put out the genuine vibe, they come back with it. It's like transferring energy or something.
On buses, plains, trains, boats, I have talked, laughed, wept, prayed and shared music with perfect strangers, and I just needed to verbally process that it's one of the best feelings whenever it happens.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Thoughts on Humor
"Humor is war."
I heard that once. Never really knew what Voltaire meant by it, but now I think I do.
A good friend of mine who grew up in Kenya told me once that, when him and his friends were aching with hunger as kids, sometimes they would all just start laughing about it. "It's the only way you could deal with it!", he said with his large white eyes.
I've never heard that perspective on poverty. Regardless of how bad or light the circumstance, no matter where you are or what time period you were born in, humor has been and continues to be a universal gift to mankind to delight us and de-stress us. I've underestimated just how much laughter does not only to provide relief, but protection as well. It wards off all those diseases of the heart and body that stem from worry.
As I've been getting over a relationship this month, I've noticed how funny people have helped me just as much as serious, reflective people.
Take Fatty, for instance. He's my 50 yr old little friend up in the Kitchen at St. Davids who is charming, always smiling, and always wanting to make me oatmeal. When he first found out I had a boyfriend he was so excited--always asking me when I was moving to Africa (where he lived) and such.
For two months I was smitten and happy and glowing, and now that we broke up my countenance is you know, dismal. But Fatty still asks me. Every. Single. Morning.
"How's your boyfriend?"
"It's over Fatty."
"He'll call you."
"No he won't."
My sad sighs, sad eyes, (and the general fact that I look homeless) don't work on Fatty. He just keeps talking through his boyish grin, saying "He'll come back," even though I know he won't. But for some reason I feel better. Fatty makes big things seem like small things. Even when he gets mad, he's joking. After I told him something today he yelled from the steps, "You go down there and cry, and I'll go up here and cry."
Hahaha...you can't go on being sad when people like Fatty exist: bumbling around, making jokes, cooking soup.
It's the same reason I love Mike. He'll come into my room when I'm sulking, call me a "sad sac," and say, "come on, lets go record. Play cards. Hang out with family--you don't know how much longer we have to do this."
Sometimes it's the very undelicate and unseemly things that make all the difference in a day. I want and I need those people in my life.
I heard that once. Never really knew what Voltaire meant by it, but now I think I do.
A good friend of mine who grew up in Kenya told me once that, when him and his friends were aching with hunger as kids, sometimes they would all just start laughing about it. "It's the only way you could deal with it!", he said with his large white eyes.
I've never heard that perspective on poverty. Regardless of how bad or light the circumstance, no matter where you are or what time period you were born in, humor has been and continues to be a universal gift to mankind to delight us and de-stress us. I've underestimated just how much laughter does not only to provide relief, but protection as well. It wards off all those diseases of the heart and body that stem from worry.
As I've been getting over a relationship this month, I've noticed how funny people have helped me just as much as serious, reflective people.
Take Fatty, for instance. He's my 50 yr old little friend up in the Kitchen at St. Davids who is charming, always smiling, and always wanting to make me oatmeal. When he first found out I had a boyfriend he was so excited--always asking me when I was moving to Africa (where he lived) and such.
For two months I was smitten and happy and glowing, and now that we broke up my countenance is you know, dismal. But Fatty still asks me. Every. Single. Morning.
"How's your boyfriend?"
"It's over Fatty."
"He'll call you."
"No he won't."
My sad sighs, sad eyes, (and the general fact that I look homeless) don't work on Fatty. He just keeps talking through his boyish grin, saying "He'll come back," even though I know he won't. But for some reason I feel better. Fatty makes big things seem like small things. Even when he gets mad, he's joking. After I told him something today he yelled from the steps, "You go down there and cry, and I'll go up here and cry."
Hahaha...you can't go on being sad when people like Fatty exist: bumbling around, making jokes, cooking soup.
It's the same reason I love Mike. He'll come into my room when I'm sulking, call me a "sad sac," and say, "come on, lets go record. Play cards. Hang out with family--you don't know how much longer we have to do this."
Sometimes it's the very undelicate and unseemly things that make all the difference in a day. I want and I need those people in my life.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Final view on everything = don't be selfish
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.
Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,
not looking to your own interests,
but each of you to the interests of the others."
Have you ever made a decision that you KNEW carried a ton of weight into the grand scheme of things? Redirected the course of your life? Inspired a cosmic shift in your psyche?
I think I made one tonight.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. How much pain do you think we would avoid if we lived by that? If we weren't SO SELFISH.
Ok there it is, all thrown up on the page. You kind of want to stop reading. I want to stop writing.
Beautiful Carolina--I'll never forget her standing there in the parking lot, with her gorgeous blue top and sparkling, wise eyes. "Leah, let me just ask you one question before you leave. If YOU were her, how would you feel about the way you're acting?"
Excuse #1: but my intentions are right
Excuse #2: but I'm not doing anything bad
Excuse #3: but he's only a friend
Excuse #4: but I WANT to do this, and I don't see a reason why not.
^^
There it is. I want something. It's available to me. I'm getting it. Someone else who gets hurt is not my problem. We all know guys like this...girls like this...going from one person who makes them feel good to the next.
It's a little nauseating.
But it's difficult to detect, because it's such a small thing--selfishness. A bad rudder on a ship, a little leven in some dough, a little fly in some clean water.
Anyway. I don't want to drink fly water, do you?
On Set for the "Singularity"
I like being around cameras and creative people..and IBM computer makers who postulate the end of the world is coming via cyborgs.
Friday, August 26, 2011
How I look at Work.
I hate it when girls say, "I look soooo bad" when they know they look like a hot mess. It's like the day after a big night out, waking up in an oversized Tshirt, excess residue of fake tan, fake eyelashes still on, booty shorts, and morning beauty glow.
Come on, everyone knows you still look amazing.
Which leads me to my next point: you haven't seen someone look truly awful until you've seen me go to work in the hut. Imagine an actual homeless person dressed in golf pants and a wrinkled collared shirt.
But one out of every 97 days, I decide to look like a normal human. I'm always caught off guard by how much other people are caught off guard. I'm feeling pretty routine, but why is my manager acting awkward around me and why am I getting free Starbucks...along with my entire family?
1) Guys, you have no idea how much power a girl has in facilitating her own attractiveness. Some of you think you know. You don't.
2) Girls, if men are catcalling, stop complaining, because you do have the option of making yourself look ugly.
Come on, everyone knows you still look amazing.
Which leads me to my next point: you haven't seen someone look truly awful until you've seen me go to work in the hut. Imagine an actual homeless person dressed in golf pants and a wrinkled collared shirt.
But one out of every 97 days, I decide to look like a normal human. I'm always caught off guard by how much other people are caught off guard. I'm feeling pretty routine, but why is my manager acting awkward around me and why am I getting free Starbucks...along with my entire family?
1) Guys, you have no idea how much power a girl has in facilitating her own attractiveness. Some of you think you know. You don't.
2) Girls, if men are catcalling, stop complaining, because you do have the option of making yourself look ugly.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Don't forget you made this.
"20 reasons why ___ is lame and gross."
It's a document I always make when I get broken up with. If you keep imaging your ex pooping, you literally can't be attracted to them anymore. IT WORKS.
It's a document I always make when I get broken up with. If you keep imaging your ex pooping, you literally can't be attracted to them anymore. IT WORKS.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Happiness, Holiness, and Fullness
Americans worship happiness.
A few things I've noticed:
*Happiness is a vision. When we think about what we want to do, who we want to be, where we want to live, the main question we ask ourselves is, "Would I be happy doing that?"
*Happiness is a necessity. Oftentimes people will leave a situation they should be faithful to because they no longer feel happy.
*Happiness is a justification. How many times have you told yourself that it's OK to keep doing something because it "makes you happy?"
*Happiness is a synonym. (Literally, in the thesaurus) for joy, satisfaction, and well-being.
Is it possible that all of these different faces of happiness only make us miserable, and rob us from knowing real joy? It's the almost right, but not on the money...which is the perfect description of a "counterfeit."
Counterfeits are hard to detect because they are (by nature) smiling, misleading, and confusing. I think that the pursuit of happiness counterfeits the pursuit of holiness. The two can appear similar, but when you peel off the layers, they are drastically different. Almost at odds.
Tim Keller says this "We were created to worship and live for God's glory, not our own. We were made to serve God and others. That means paradoxically that if we try to put our own happiness ahead of obedience to God, we violate our own nature and become, ultimately, miserable. Jesus restates the principle when he says, "Whoever wants to save his life shall lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." He is saying, "If you seek happiness more than you seek me, you will have neither; if you seek to serve me more than serve happiness, you will have both."
A few things I've noticed:
*Happiness is a vision. When we think about what we want to do, who we want to be, where we want to live, the main question we ask ourselves is, "Would I be happy doing that?"
*Happiness is a necessity. Oftentimes people will leave a situation they should be faithful to because they no longer feel happy.
*Happiness is a justification. How many times have you told yourself that it's OK to keep doing something because it "makes you happy?"
*Happiness is a synonym. (Literally, in the thesaurus) for joy, satisfaction, and well-being.
Is it possible that all of these different faces of happiness only make us miserable, and rob us from knowing real joy? It's the almost right, but not on the money...which is the perfect description of a "counterfeit."
Counterfeits are hard to detect because they are (by nature) smiling, misleading, and confusing. I think that the pursuit of happiness counterfeits the pursuit of holiness. The two can appear similar, but when you peel off the layers, they are drastically different. Almost at odds.
Tim Keller says this "We were created to worship and live for God's glory, not our own. We were made to serve God and others. That means paradoxically that if we try to put our own happiness ahead of obedience to God, we violate our own nature and become, ultimately, miserable. Jesus restates the principle when he says, "Whoever wants to save his life shall lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." He is saying, "If you seek happiness more than you seek me, you will have neither; if you seek to serve me more than serve happiness, you will have both."
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The Beautiful Imperfect
This summer, I've had the honor of experiencing life's recent twists and turns with these two women--even though we're miles apart. It's funny, because we're all going through interesting seasons with their own respective challenges...and because I'm learning a lot, I feel like every time we're on the phone, I end up vomiting all of the truth onto them and their situations. Somehow God uses it. Both of them tell me, "Leah you are such an encouragement..."
If only they knew--that they encourage me WAY more. Even on the days they aren't feeling positive or upbeat. Here's why:
I love being in relationships with people who know that they are flawed. Everyone is imperfect, but a lot of people cover up or ignore the areas where they fall short, because they feel like they have to "have it together." But really, who has it together? Our judgments are so thinly based. Things are rarely how they appear. Someone might seem like a whole person because they have a great job, always say the right things, dress well, act responsibly, etc.--but how do you the place it's coming from? The first step towards healing is brokenness, and knowledge of brokenness. Some people who "have it all together" are deeply insecure.
So I think the most NOBLE and encouraging thing a friend can do for a friend is to let them in on their flaws, give them permission to hear about it, speak into it, and walk through it with them. These girls are never boring to live life with because they dream high, struggle deeply, and mess up all the time--but their hearts are beautiful because they belong to God. At the end of the day, sharing life with them is an adventure because we don't cover up insecurities with "put together-ness." There's no easy way out: we'll be stripped, broken, built up, and changed.
It's the most exciting thing to get to be a part of--to see God come in and transform your friends lives. Love you girls. An angel rides in the whirlwind and directs this storm.
God, romance me
I'm naturally drawn to the exotic, but knowing God has made me see the exotic in the ordinary: family sitting around a fire telling stories late at night, listening to rain pour outside my window, running into an old teacher in a coffee shop, getting an encouraging text from a friend 2,000 miles away, getting a book in the mail...
God invites us into a rich reality in Him. It's creative, transcendant, normal, joyful, painful... and all about loving the people around you. When God romances me, I find the balance to dream without being driven by dreams; I can long for things without losing contentment and thankfulness for the present moment; and I'm free from the sin that so easily entangles...
God invites us into a rich reality in Him. It's creative, transcendant, normal, joyful, painful... and all about loving the people around you. When God romances me, I find the balance to dream without being driven by dreams; I can long for things without losing contentment and thankfulness for the present moment; and I'm free from the sin that so easily entangles...
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Full surrender
In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. -Hebrews 12:4
It always seems like we can ease our way out of bad habits, but I'm starting to see that sin can't be half-dealt with.
A week ago, I caught a vision of what things could be like if I completely repented--fully turned from the old and towards the new. It's a little scary, and it requires me being all in, not 75%, 80%, or 95%.
When you think of managing risk, which is greater - to sacrifice something for God, or to keep it from him? He only has our best interest in mind, and when we choose our own way we end up missing out on some blessing. The opportunity cost of following our way instead of his is songs unwritten, orphanages never started, people untouched, hearts, minds and souls unreached.
It matters what we choose.
I don't want distraction anymore. I don't want half-hearted pleasures, I don't want confusion, I don't want a blanket of comfort if it's hindering me.
It's tempting to look at everything you're missing out on when you choose God, but those things will eventually come. Obedience to God now is probably a better decision than grasping for future blessings when they aren't yours yet. There's a time for everything, and I want to be fully in the time I'm in now.
God is changing me. I feel more comfort, life, and wholeness with my hands empty rather than white knuckled and clenched around the things I want.
It always seems like we can ease our way out of bad habits, but I'm starting to see that sin can't be half-dealt with.
A week ago, I caught a vision of what things could be like if I completely repented--fully turned from the old and towards the new. It's a little scary, and it requires me being all in, not 75%, 80%, or 95%.
When you think of managing risk, which is greater - to sacrifice something for God, or to keep it from him? He only has our best interest in mind, and when we choose our own way we end up missing out on some blessing. The opportunity cost of following our way instead of his is songs unwritten, orphanages never started, people untouched, hearts, minds and souls unreached.
It matters what we choose.
I don't want distraction anymore. I don't want half-hearted pleasures, I don't want confusion, I don't want a blanket of comfort if it's hindering me.
It's tempting to look at everything you're missing out on when you choose God, but those things will eventually come. Obedience to God now is probably a better decision than grasping for future blessings when they aren't yours yet. There's a time for everything, and I want to be fully in the time I'm in now.
God is changing me. I feel more comfort, life, and wholeness with my hands empty rather than white knuckled and clenched around the things I want.
Rest - Confessions of St. Augustine
"Rest in him and you shall be at rest. Where do you go along these rugged paths? Where are you going? The good that you love is from him, and insofar as it is also for him, it is both good and pleasant. But it will rightly be turned to bitterness if whatever comes from him is not rightly loved and if he is deserted for the love of the creature. Why then will you wander farther and farther in these difficult and toilsome ways? There is no rest where you seek it. Seek what you seek; but remember that it is not where you seek it. You seek for a blessed life in the land of death. It is not there. For how can there be a blessed life where life itself is not?
pg 57, chapter XII
pg 57, chapter XII
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Street Dove
The beady eyes of a white dove stare
Blank, wide, tired, blithe
She walks in circles; waits for attack
Oil spills and dirt on her back
Smeared, soft, stolen worth
Bruised her wings and
Swore her to earth.
Down her head hits the street to rest
Fluttering heart is sick, at best
Beady eyes stare wide awake,
Eyelid's black won't shut the ache
Stomach, knot
Throat, hot.
Deluged with sweet, embittered thoughts
She lays her head on the street to rest,
Where all that's hard is comfortless.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Tree of Life
His wisdom is profound, his power is vast.
Who has resisted him and come out unscathed?
On The Tree of Life
"Jack's parents represent the film's broader dialectic of what Mother describes as "two ways through life: the way of nature, and the way of grace."
As the stern, business-minded Mr. O'Brien, Pitt represents the way of nature, valuing a competitive, almost Machiavellian approach to life. He's big on the idea of ownership, control, and being a self-sovereign man ("You have control of your own destiny," he says). As the loving, compassionate Mrs. O'Brien, newcomer Chastain embodies the way of grace. She nurtures the kids, cares for them when dad's mad, and is quick to forgive. In parallel scenes of waking the boys up from bed—mother by playfully slipping ice cubes down the back of their pajamas; father by ripping their covers off—we see the contrast clearly."
(McCracken, Christianity Today)
Who has resisted him and come out unscathed?
On The Tree of Life
"Jack's parents represent the film's broader dialectic of what Mother describes as "two ways through life: the way of nature, and the way of grace."
As the stern, business-minded Mr. O'Brien, Pitt represents the way of nature, valuing a competitive, almost Machiavellian approach to life. He's big on the idea of ownership, control, and being a self-sovereign man ("You have control of your own destiny," he says). As the loving, compassionate Mrs. O'Brien, newcomer Chastain embodies the way of grace. She nurtures the kids, cares for them when dad's mad, and is quick to forgive. In parallel scenes of waking the boys up from bed—mother by playfully slipping ice cubes down the back of their pajamas; father by ripping their covers off—we see the contrast clearly."
(McCracken, Christianity Today)
Friday, August 12, 2011
Coffee and Sweatshirts
I can't wait for fall. Crisp air, coffee,
sweatshirts, friends, romance,
beauty, leaves and leaves,
falling everywhere.
sweatshirts, friends, romance,
beauty, leaves and leaves,
falling everywhere.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Liberalism Undermining Tradition
Matthias is one of my favorite nerdheads EVAR.
He wrote his senior thesis on how tradition has been undermined by the core principles of Enlightenment liberalism.
We're going to talk about it over coffee soon, but I want to write out some of his main points, weaving my thoughts into it. (NOTE: these are Matthias's thoughts I'm building on. I'm putting it in my own words so it makes sense to me later)
First of all, tradition is a beautiful thing. We can't live our lives without it. Everything we do, from going to school and getting married down to our ability to speak and process information--has to do with traditional values and customs. It's extremely ordinary and pervasive--so much so that it goes unnoticed.
However, tradition is necessarily exclusive. It makes some desires superior to others, and thus, is not compatible with "equality of preference" proposed by Hobbes in The Leviathan. He writes, “Whatsoever is the object of any man’s appetite or desire, that is it that he for his part calleth good… For there is no such finis ultimus, utmost aim, nor summum bonum, greatest good, as is spoken of in the books of old moral philosophers.”
Hobbes's equality of preference rejects the ancient interest in the "greatest good" because it is seen as a monster oppressor to the individual's wants and desires. The problem with this is congruency. You simply can't have tradition without the exclusivity that comes with it--exclusivity to the opinions, wishes, and desires of certain minority groups or outsiders.
What happens when preference rules? Kalb writes that to “make freedom truly universal and equal is to make it featureless… it becomes an abstraction defined and redefined without limit by government officials, whether welfare administrators or Supreme Court justices.”
As a whole, Matthias's paper begs deeper questions about the nature of equality, morality, and truth. How do we define them? How important is it for us to have absolute answers in these areas? How important is it that we all agree? If we don't...what happens to tradition?
Ask him to send you his thesis!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Coffee dates with Mel
Reasons why Melanie Herrera is beautiful:
-She looks for cosmic truths in ordinary situations
-She is guided by her heart AND her head (rare combo)
-She goes against the grain
-She's silly, absurd, thoughtful, and perfectly lovable
-She invites challenges
-She's not out to prove she's right, but to keep thinking, observing, living, and growing until she is fully confident that she has discovered what life is all about.
This girl...is a gem.
(^^ Sunday school diagram? heh)
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Goodbye Doubt, Hello Hope.
My beautiful, undignified friend Jessi Marquez is starting a "Kick the Habit" campaign for the month of August. The idea is to get rid of some nasty mind trap you've got yourself in and overcome it.
So I'm kicking doubt.
When doubt shows up, it manifests itself in mental and emotional states of fear, worry, and self-centeredness that weigh on me and suck up my time and attention. Time and focus are precious things that should be guarded--not hoarded selfishly, but protected--because they are vehicles through which your life is poured out on others, through love, sacrifice, and work. I'm tired of watching amazing opportunities pass me by because I have given doubt the authority to dwell in my mind.
Over the past few weeks, I've been slammed with it (as well as all of its crippling corollaries). BUT, for the first time in my life, I've experienced the reality of invisible arms of strength coming alongside and beneath me, giving me the ability to stand firm and not be shaken. That strength, I believe, is rooted in hope.
I've been intrigued by the concept of hope this whole summer. The virtue of hope isn't emphasized much, but it's right up there with faith and love in Corinthians 13. Faith itself is described as being "sure of what we hope for." What do I hope for? How can I be absolutely sure of what I hope for?
...by anchoring it somewhere solid.
We can set our hope on things that are momentary and flaky, or continuous with promise. Hope deferred can "make the heart sick" when it doesn't come through, or it can regenerate the spirit with sureness and confidence. So, growing in the virtue of hope means to rightly divide between the real deal and it's smiling counterfeits.
Practically, kicking the habit of doubt means standing on the promises of God when my whims and emotions tell me to do otherwise. I give Christ full control over my thought-life. I'm putting time in my schedule to remind myself what it is I'm hoping for--by reading things that inspire me, remembering God's call on my life, and moving in that direction with the small lamp set in front of me.
"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him."
HOPE-fully (ha), by the end of this month, I won't be the slave to doubt I was at the beginning.
So I'm kicking doubt.
When doubt shows up, it manifests itself in mental and emotional states of fear, worry, and self-centeredness that weigh on me and suck up my time and attention. Time and focus are precious things that should be guarded--not hoarded selfishly, but protected--because they are vehicles through which your life is poured out on others, through love, sacrifice, and work. I'm tired of watching amazing opportunities pass me by because I have given doubt the authority to dwell in my mind.
Over the past few weeks, I've been slammed with it (as well as all of its crippling corollaries). BUT, for the first time in my life, I've experienced the reality of invisible arms of strength coming alongside and beneath me, giving me the ability to stand firm and not be shaken. That strength, I believe, is rooted in hope.
I've been intrigued by the concept of hope this whole summer. The virtue of hope isn't emphasized much, but it's right up there with faith and love in Corinthians 13. Faith itself is described as being "sure of what we hope for." What do I hope for? How can I be absolutely sure of what I hope for?
...by anchoring it somewhere solid.
We can set our hope on things that are momentary and flaky, or continuous with promise. Hope deferred can "make the heart sick" when it doesn't come through, or it can regenerate the spirit with sureness and confidence. So, growing in the virtue of hope means to rightly divide between the real deal and it's smiling counterfeits.
Practically, kicking the habit of doubt means standing on the promises of God when my whims and emotions tell me to do otherwise. I give Christ full control over my thought-life. I'm putting time in my schedule to remind myself what it is I'm hoping for--by reading things that inspire me, remembering God's call on my life, and moving in that direction with the small lamp set in front of me.
"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him."
HOPE-fully (ha), by the end of this month, I won't be the slave to doubt I was at the beginning.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Knowing God
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love,
I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love,
I am nothing.
If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love,
I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
I feel most at home in empty auditoriums. Something about the stillness, the barren deadness after a show, the anticipation for the next show, the oddness of it being vacant after being filled with so much life...it draws me into a transcendent peace and contentment. Laying on the floor of a dark stage after hours, I feel as if I'm every age I'll ever be all at once.
"All the world's a stage," Shakespeare put it, and he's right. Sitting alone in an empty theatre is humbling. You remove yourself from the normal functionality of the thing (action, excitement, adventure) and reflect on it. When the curtain's down and the people are gone, things look really different.
Same with life. When you draw away from the activity and let yourself be still--look long out a window--embrace the quiet--invite back all the memories you suppressed--you see it all from a different angle.
Today I was thinking about the whirlwind of the past three years I've lived in New York. New Yorkers look at people from the country like they're stupid because they don't "know things."
What is knowledge? My head grew large in New York, but my heart and spirit might have suffered. Maybe they weren't fed well enough--ironically--in all of the excess information about ideas, concepts, God, politics, religion, the world. I thought thinking about those things brought me closer to the truth (and they can), but none of it matters if I don't know God. Know as in love.
God is love. Knowing him is knowing love, and without it, there's no meaning.
I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love,
I am nothing.
If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love,
I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
I feel most at home in empty auditoriums. Something about the stillness, the barren deadness after a show, the anticipation for the next show, the oddness of it being vacant after being filled with so much life...it draws me into a transcendent peace and contentment. Laying on the floor of a dark stage after hours, I feel as if I'm every age I'll ever be all at once.
"All the world's a stage," Shakespeare put it, and he's right. Sitting alone in an empty theatre is humbling. You remove yourself from the normal functionality of the thing (action, excitement, adventure) and reflect on it. When the curtain's down and the people are gone, things look really different.
Same with life. When you draw away from the activity and let yourself be still--look long out a window--embrace the quiet--invite back all the memories you suppressed--you see it all from a different angle.
Today I was thinking about the whirlwind of the past three years I've lived in New York. New Yorkers look at people from the country like they're stupid because they don't "know things."
What is knowledge? My head grew large in New York, but my heart and spirit might have suffered. Maybe they weren't fed well enough--ironically--in all of the excess information about ideas, concepts, God, politics, religion, the world. I thought thinking about those things brought me closer to the truth (and they can), but none of it matters if I don't know God. Know as in love.
God is love. Knowing him is knowing love, and without it, there's no meaning.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Suffering and Beauty.
"To possess true beauty, we must be willing to suffer. If Christ himself was perfect through his sufferings, why would I believe God would not do the same with me? Women who are stunningly beautiful are women who have had their hearts enlarged by suffering. By saying yes when the world says no. By paying the high price of loving truly and honestly without demanding that they be loved in return. And by refusing to numb their pain in the myriad of ways available. They have come to know that when everyone and everything has left them, God is there. They have learned, along with David, that those who go through the desolate valley will find it a place of springs (Ps. 84:6).
Living in true beauty can require much waiting, much time, much tenacity of spirit. We must constantly direct our gazes toward the face of God, even in the presence of longing and sorrow. It is in the waiting that our hearts are enlarged." (145 Captivating)
Living in true beauty can require much waiting, much time, much tenacity of spirit. We must constantly direct our gazes toward the face of God, even in the presence of longing and sorrow. It is in the waiting that our hearts are enlarged." (145 Captivating)
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Love Makes
Love is all that makes the cool, disinterested earth sing
Her lurid flame goes out and draws us all the same;
A humming, warming fire that puts weakness in our knees
and wakens us into life as it burns us to our feet.
Her lurid flame goes out and draws us all the same;
A humming, warming fire that puts weakness in our knees
and wakens us into life as it burns us to our feet.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Materiality
I might take it as a compliment if someone called me a "spiritual" person. I used to think the epitome of spirituality and holiness looked something like St. Francis of Assisi sitting for days on a rooftop, contemplating the nature of existence and starving himself.
Over the past few years, I've started to lose respect for that kind of demonstration of faith. Inner spirituality has a place, but it is only a small part of Christianity.
When I think about it, I'm surprised at the degree to which the material helps me connect to God. It's like a necessary refractor for revelation. When I look at a mountain, feel a breeze, hear a song, or look into a child's eyes, I see God; I feel God; I know God more intimately. The beautiful things of this world, whether they were made by divine or human hands, all exist materially, and we must interact with them materially in order for that inner, spiritual experience of God.
When the metaphysical and physical work together, the one facilitates the potency of the other over human experience. That's why I think, for me, I need to pay more attention and take better care of material things. They are conduits of divine expression, and are therefore, sacred in themselves.
So...I think I might go clean my room.
Over the past few years, I've started to lose respect for that kind of demonstration of faith. Inner spirituality has a place, but it is only a small part of Christianity.
When I think about it, I'm surprised at the degree to which the material helps me connect to God. It's like a necessary refractor for revelation. When I look at a mountain, feel a breeze, hear a song, or look into a child's eyes, I see God; I feel God; I know God more intimately. The beautiful things of this world, whether they were made by divine or human hands, all exist materially, and we must interact with them materially in order for that inner, spiritual experience of God.
When the metaphysical and physical work together, the one facilitates the potency of the other over human experience. That's why I think, for me, I need to pay more attention and take better care of material things. They are conduits of divine expression, and are therefore, sacred in themselves.
So...I think I might go clean my room.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The Goblin Market
A little snippet from the most moving piece of literature I've ever read on love, sacrifice, and going from death to life (besides the Bible).
Read whole thing here: http://plexipages.com/reflections/goblin.html
"...Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruined in my ruin;
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?"
She clung about her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame,
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped water-spout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life ?
Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray,
Her breath was sweet as May,
And light danced in her eyes..."
Read whole thing here: http://plexipages.com/reflections/goblin.html
"...Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruined in my ruin;
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?"
She clung about her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame,
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped water-spout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life ?
Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray,
Her breath was sweet as May,
And light danced in her eyes..."
Friday, May 27, 2011
When a Fish Becomes a Bird
You are the fearless wisdom-bird
Who flies to songs of things unheard
Spiraling through the air in flight
Darting from the highest height,
You bend your beak to the pale blue sea
And dedicate yourself to it.
You fly above and help the fish
Discover their own wings to fit
Your great adventure in the sky
Staring we're left mesmerized,
Daring to take off in flight
And leave the things we know behind.
It's crazy for a fish to pass
An eagle in the atmosphere,
But that's the way we want to live,
Weighing risk the way you did
When you were young and just like us,
A fish who marveled to become
A feathered wisdom-bearing eye,
Dodging thunder in the sky.
The snappers, turtles, bass, and trout
Forgot their dreams of finding out
"How does a fish become a bird?"
The whole thing seems, to them, absurd,
But now we feel the waters brim
Is closer than it's ever been
Convention's call is fading dim and
Our ears are tuned to violent hymns,
Those symphonies that make us sing
Will bind our gills and fins and bring
Us out see the light of morning,
Brighter sun and fiercer glory.
Remembering the things we left,
But never looking back at them
We start to breathe in deeper breaths
Of some angelic oxygen.
And after we have lived and gathered
Stories up in our rundown feathers
We, like you, will find the sea
Again and help the fish to dream
Of finding hidden symphonies, the
Answers to uncanny things,
And all that makes a fish become
A bird when it would seem absurd.
Who flies to songs of things unheard
Spiraling through the air in flight
Darting from the highest height,
You bend your beak to the pale blue sea
And dedicate yourself to it.
You fly above and help the fish
Discover their own wings to fit
Your great adventure in the sky
Staring we're left mesmerized,
Daring to take off in flight
And leave the things we know behind.
It's crazy for a fish to pass
An eagle in the atmosphere,
But that's the way we want to live,
Weighing risk the way you did
When you were young and just like us,
A fish who marveled to become
A feathered wisdom-bearing eye,
Dodging thunder in the sky.
The snappers, turtles, bass, and trout
Forgot their dreams of finding out
"How does a fish become a bird?"
The whole thing seems, to them, absurd,
But now we feel the waters brim
Is closer than it's ever been
Convention's call is fading dim and
Our ears are tuned to violent hymns,
Those symphonies that make us sing
Will bind our gills and fins and bring
Us out see the light of morning,
Brighter sun and fiercer glory.
Remembering the things we left,
But never looking back at them
We start to breathe in deeper breaths
Of some angelic oxygen.
And after we have lived and gathered
Stories up in our rundown feathers
We, like you, will find the sea
Again and help the fish to dream
Of finding hidden symphonies, the
Answers to uncanny things,
And all that makes a fish become
A bird when it would seem absurd.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Poem by Wordsworth
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
From God who is our home.
-Wordsworth
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
From God who is our home.
-Wordsworth
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Finish strong.
Odysseus almost got home years before his actual homecoming. Ithaca was in sight, close enough that the sailors could see the smoke of their families' fires on shore. Odysseus was so certain he was safe, he actually lay down for a snooze. It was then that his men, believing there was hold in an ox-hide sack among their commander's possessions, snatched this prize and cut it open. The bag contained the adverse Winds, which King Aeolus had bottled up for Odysseus when the wanderer had touched earlier at his blessed isle. The winds burst forth now in one mad blow, driving Odysseus' ships back across every league of ocean they had with such difficulty traversed, making him endure further trials and sufferings before, at last and alone, he reached from for good.
The danger is greatest when the finish line is in sight. At this point, Resistance knows we're about to beat it. It hits the panic button. It marshals one last assault and slams us with everything it's got.
The professional must be alert for this counterattack. Be wary at the end. Don't open that bag of wind.
(War of Art, 18)
The danger is greatest when the finish line is in sight. At this point, Resistance knows we're about to beat it. It hits the panic button. It marshals one last assault and slams us with everything it's got.
The professional must be alert for this counterattack. Be wary at the end. Don't open that bag of wind.
(War of Art, 18)
Saturday, April 23, 2011
On poetry and inspiration.
Socrates, in Plato's Phaedrus:
"The third type of possession and madness is possession by the Muses. When this seizes upon a gentle and virgin soul it rouses it to inspired expression in lyric and other sorts of poetry, and glorifies countless deeds of the heroes of old for the instruction of posterity. But if a man comes to the door of poetry untouched by the madness of the Muses, believing that technique along will make him a good poet, he and his sane compositions never reach perfection, but are utterly eclipsed by the performances of the inspired madman."
"The third type of possession and madness is possession by the Muses. When this seizes upon a gentle and virgin soul it rouses it to inspired expression in lyric and other sorts of poetry, and glorifies countless deeds of the heroes of old for the instruction of posterity. But if a man comes to the door of poetry untouched by the madness of the Muses, believing that technique along will make him a good poet, he and his sane compositions never reach perfection, but are utterly eclipsed by the performances of the inspired madman."
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Cloud high
"I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud high."
Jane Eyre excerpt: angel of light
"...it is no devil, I assure you; or if it be, it has put on the robes of an angel of light. I think I must admit so fair a guest when it asks entrance to my heart."
"Distrust it sir; it is not a true angel."
"Once more, how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend to distinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messenger from the eternal throne--between a guide and a seducer?"
"I judged by your countenance, sir; which was troubled: when you said the suggestion had returned upon you. I feel sure it will work you more misery if you listen to it."
....
"They are, MIss Eyre, though they absolutely require a new statute: unheard-of combinations of circumstances demand unheard-of rules."
"That sounds a dangerous maxim, sir; because one can see at once that it is liable to abuse."
"Sententious sage! so it is; but I swear by my household hods not to abuse it."
"You are human and fallible."
"I am: so are you --what then?"
"The human and fallible should not arrogate a power with which the divine and perfect alone can be safely entrusted."
"What power?"
"That of saying of any strange, unsanctioned line of action--'let it be right.'"
" 'Let it be right' -- the very words: you have pronounced them"
"Mayit be right then" I said.
"Distrust it sir; it is not a true angel."
"Once more, how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend to distinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messenger from the eternal throne--between a guide and a seducer?"
"I judged by your countenance, sir; which was troubled: when you said the suggestion had returned upon you. I feel sure it will work you more misery if you listen to it."
....
"They are, MIss Eyre, though they absolutely require a new statute: unheard-of combinations of circumstances demand unheard-of rules."
"That sounds a dangerous maxim, sir; because one can see at once that it is liable to abuse."
"Sententious sage! so it is; but I swear by my household hods not to abuse it."
"You are human and fallible."
"I am: so are you --what then?"
"The human and fallible should not arrogate a power with which the divine and perfect alone can be safely entrusted."
"What power?"
"That of saying of any strange, unsanctioned line of action--'let it be right.'"
" 'Let it be right' -- the very words: you have pronounced them"
"Mayit be right then" I said.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
I need a laser
I'm suspicious the whirlwind is weightless.
the words, methods, arguments, patterns
painted around and above me.
there's a breath and depth to being
more powerful than thinking.
it's sand at the bottom of the sea
that makes its way up to seashells.
it's carelessly singing
the music of us existing.
without always knowing
exactly what it's saying.
it doesn't participate in the games of
guessing, stretching, reworking, and lurking
around to grab, snatch, and convince.
it sits within.
waiting for lasers thin and bright
enough to pierce through
too many layers of skin.
the words, methods, arguments, patterns
painted around and above me.
there's a breath and depth to being
more powerful than thinking.
it's sand at the bottom of the sea
that makes its way up to seashells.
it's carelessly singing
the music of us existing.
without always knowing
exactly what it's saying.
it doesn't participate in the games of
guessing, stretching, reworking, and lurking
around to grab, snatch, and convince.
it sits within.
waiting for lasers thin and bright
enough to pierce through
too many layers of skin.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Attitudes
Philippians 3:8
But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead.
I press on toward the goal or the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, have this attitude; and if in anything you have a different attitude, God will reveal that also to you;
But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead.
I press on toward the goal or the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, have this attitude; and if in anything you have a different attitude, God will reveal that also to you;
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Music
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
Elizabeth Bishop
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
Elizabeth Bishop
Monday, March 14, 2011
Postmodernism: seeing both sides
"Both absolutism and relativism have bright and shadow sides. The virtue of the Absolute is the power it offers the soul; its danger is in the fanaticism into which the power can narrow. In the case of relativism, its virtue is tolerance, and nihilism is its danger. Where social considerations predominate it is the dark side of absolutism (fanaticism) and the bright side of relativism (tolerance) that are noticed, these being their social components. In both cases, the vertical dimensions (which would reverse our estimates of the two) are under-played if not ignored" (210).
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Story.
"Storytelling is the creative demonstration of truth. A story is the living proof of an idea, the conversion of idea to action. A story's event structure is the means by which you first express, then prove your idea...without explanation" (McKee 113).
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Two Trees
BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the wingèd sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat,
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings; alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
-Yeats
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsYINRjr9dw
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the wingèd sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat,
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings; alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
-Yeats
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsYINRjr9dw
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Love for a Daughter
There's this scene in "The Suburban Girl" where the actress hugs her father goodbye and watches him drive away. The next shot shows her writing at a little outdoor cafe table in the city. It's almost as if you saw her in a new way...not as the woman she had been in the movie until that point, but as a daughter of her father... all-grown-up. I imagined the way any dad must feel when he sees the adult version of what used to be his little girl. Pride, joy, sensitivity, care.
It made me think of my Dad. The best example of love I've ever known :)
It made me think of my Dad. The best example of love I've ever known :)
January
Wednesday January 26
Matthew 6
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
As we forgive our debtors.
And do not lead us into temptation,
But deliver us from the evil one.
For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.
Sunday January 23
2 Corinthians 10:3-6
"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ, and being ready to punish all disobedience when your obedience is fulfilled."
Saturday January 22
Philippians 2:12-13
"Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose."
Monday, January 22, 2011
If God is for us, who can be against us?
Matthew 6
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
As we forgive our debtors.
And do not lead us into temptation,
But deliver us from the evil one.
For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.
Sunday January 23
2 Corinthians 10:3-6
"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ, and being ready to punish all disobedience when your obedience is fulfilled."
Saturday January 22
Philippians 2:12-13
"Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose."
Monday, January 22, 2011
If God is for us, who can be against us?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
the smell of paint
It’s paint cans and an empty room
With lovely sunset shadows
Playing on the waiting walls.
It’s the smell of something new,
This simple joy I feel with you
I spin and feel a new beginning live.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
evening
then the night fell on us
and we both
came all undone
the stars lit your fire
and I
melted with mine.
and we both
came all undone
the stars lit your fire
and I
melted with mine.
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