Irony and Critique

Just a small thought on the power of art - it has an ability to function as a mirror, confronting us with our own ugliness in a way that shatters our formerly held perceptions without breaking us as individuals. (Or, perhaps it does break us - but it does so in a way that we subtly allow, even if we're not aware of it.) In the breaking, art pushes and hopes for something better.

That being said...

We say that people are not for sale, but what about our identities? In buying things to define us, what have we sold ourselves to?

Howl

My heart feels more comfortable out in the frigid weather than in the cozy warmth of my apartment tonight. Out there are howlings and gusts which thrash about. Out there, the weather wants to fight - and my heart wants something to push against other than my ribcage. Out there, my heart resonates with the weather on what it means to feel frustraed as my body literally pushes against the wind.

I'm feeling this song tonight. I don't like all the lyrics, but this is where I'm at. Listen to the music - not necessarily to the words, but to the sound that the words make. Between the wind and this song is maybe where you'll find me.

After a break: Why Beauty Matters

As of tomorrow, my brother will have been married for two months. It was a lovely wedding which, aside from all the special moments afforded when one's only brother gets married to a wonderful woman, I had my own special breakthrough. I met a man who was a friend of the couple (a mentor and photographer during the wedding) who I got to talking with. He asked me about my dreams, plans, and interests and then encouraged me to start blogging about my passion: beauty (perhaps more specifically, the theology of beauty).

I've put it off because I've been "busy," (truly - grad school is keeping me on my toes) but it's stayed in my head as something I truly want to start doing. Tonight, I ran across something that captured my attention so much that I simply couldn't wait any longer to blog. So, tonight, I offer something blog-worthy: why I think beauty matters.

Beauty matters.
It matters because it gives us hope and courage. It gives us something to fight for when others don't believe in us. Beauty matters because it restores our humanity.
And here is a video that proves me right:

Be Blessed.

From within my Ribcage

Fear is immobilizing and perfectionism is an insidious disease - stemming from the greater evil of pride. A constant "I can't" results in failure. True, "I can't" when I won't even allow myself to try.
Perfection is unobtainable. So, instead of "the best" I will strive for "my best...considering my circumstances." I will not beat myself up for failing to be as good (or better) than everybody else. "Everybody else" is not living my life - I am.
Perhaps, this may be an area where "Goodenough" becomes a worthy goal. A steady reliance on the familiar and a refusal to risk the new, masked by excuses unworthiness, results in a stagnant, stale life. One might say it's a life void of living. In this way, relaxing welcomes adventure. Humility realizes my weaknesses, celebrates my strengths and then says, "Let's do this."

If faith is action, then I need to step out. If I truly believe that God is guiding my path and leading my steps, then I need to move. Fear of failure is really indicative of a lack of trust in the One who calls Himself the Good Shepherd, Loving Father. If I believe, then I need to be open...

So, here I am: learning to face my fears, willing to trust the Love I say I believe in, facing the suffocation offered if I let fear and perfectionism rule my life - daring what it means to breathe.

(something beautiful that I found)

breathe, paper cut out instalation, by Kathryn Hunter
Lineage, 2008
Alfred C. Glassell Jr. Exhibition Gallery, Shaw Center for the Arts, Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Check out more of her work at: 

http://blackbirdletterpress.com/Kathryn/2008/2008.html

Last night. Three dreams.

I think the post title pretty much says it all: last night (rather, this morning) I had three dreams. The first two weren't all that important, but mostly amusing, so I'll include them:

1. I dreamt that I made a rather large mess. I'm not gonna get into the details, but cut to the chase to say that since I was responsible for it, I had to clean it up. For some reason, there were gypsies around me, watching me clean. I was doing a good job, working hard, and the progress was showing. All I could think was, "Great - I'm going to get grabbed." *sigh* (I guess that "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" marathon from a couple weeks ago leaked into my subconscious.)

*And then I woke up.

2. I fell back asleep and dreamt that I was at a friend's wedding. (I didn't actually go to the wedding in reality.) I was sitting at a table at the reception and found out that some other friends of mine who are dating had just gotten engaged. (In real life, they're still just dating - I checked on Facebook.)

* And then I got an annoying phone call that was thankfully short enough for me to fall back into a deeper sleep.

3. This time I dreamt that I was at a wedding on a beautiful, sunny day. The caliber was something along the lines of "FlashMob" combined with a theatrical musical. Everybody was on a large, outdoor stage before hundreds (if not a thousand) people. The groom and pastor smiled and waited on the stage that was covered with large bouquets while the bridesmaids and groomsmen stood alongside, singing and dancing (something like a choir or group of Motown back-up singers). Everybody was there - except for the bride. But that really wasn't an issue because the performance on stage was going so well (everybody was well entertained) and we knew that she'd be there soon. I was running around backstage, coordinating, I guess. We had her dress ready for her to change into when she arrived in brown skirt suit. For some reason, during the change-off, I started thinking about the day I found out that my grandpa died. I had an ear cuff that I lost at my grandparents' house while sleeping on their couch. In my dream, I finally "remembered" where the cuff had fallen under the couch. I was able to see it so clearly...and I wanted to get it back so badly. It hurt how much I missed my grandpa. A woman next to me sensed how I felt and asked me, "Are you lonely?" I answered, "Yes." (I was lonely for my grandpa.) She told me, "Try not to think about it."

*And then my alarm went off. And I still missed him. And I cried.

Like iridescent bubbles

Two nights ago I dreamt that from my grandparents' home, I was able to see a view of the valley filled with beautiful, giant, iridescent bubbles. I told my grandpa, who (for some reason) snapped at me and hurt my feelings. He felt bad and offered to take me on a ride through the orchard on his old jeep. It was his way of apologizing...

And I woke up missing him. It'll be two years ago that he passed away in July. I think that there are some wounds that never fully heal.

Walk with me.

It's an interesting thing - often when people find out that I'm in seminary, they think that I must have it all together. That I have all the answers. That I'm some sort of Super Christian.

But the truth is this: there are days like today when I am caught by a strong nagging doubt in the midst of otherwise enjoying (dare I say "worshipping?) God. The interruption comes something like this - "Is this really what I believe? Is this really the reality that I accept? Is this really the Truth that I believe in? Am I sure that it's not some sort of fairytale that I've bought into? This Jesus...really?" Blindsided by my own doubt, I am left stunned and feeling as if I'm standing on spiritually wobbly legs.

Yet, in those moments of introspection, I answer with a (shaky), "Yes." Because that is what I believe. And the more I self-examine my beliefs, the stronger that "yes" becomes (thank God). There's something to be said for having reason - after all, I am a reasonable creature (and by that I mean I have the ability to reason).  Logically speaking, I can understand how the gospel could sound absolutely crazy - but I have seen and experienced what could easily be called acts of mystery. Acts of the spiritual. I call them acts of God.
It comes to this: my faith is not contingent upon having all the answers. I am learning. I am growing. I stumble, but God extends His hand to me and lifts me back up. I am walking down a path on a spiritual journey through life. So are you.
So, let's journey together.