This is the poem "How to be Alone" by Tanya Davis. I love the language. I'm also including the link to the youtube video of her performing it. Very well done. And really good thoughts.
If you are at first lonely, be patient.
If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.
We can start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library, where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books; you’re not supposed to talk much anyway so it’s safe there.
There is also the gym, if you’re shy, you can hang out with yourself and mirrors, you can put headphones in.
Then there’s public transportation, because we all gotta go places.
And there’s prayer and mediation, no one will think less if your hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.
Start simple. Things you may have previously avoided based on your avoid being alone principles.
The lunch counter, where you will be surrounded by “chow downers”, employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town, and they, like you, will be alone.
Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.
When you are comfortable with “eat lunch and run”, take yourself out for dinner; a restaurant with linen and Silverware. You’re no less an intriguing a person when you are eating solo desert and cleaning the whip cream from the dish with your finger. In fact, some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.
Go to the movies. Where it’s dark and soothing, alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.
And then take yourself out dancing, to a club where no one knows you, stand on the outside of the floor until the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one’s watching because they’re probably not. And if they are, assume it is with best human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats, is after-all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you’re sweating. And beads of perspiration remind you of life’s best things. Down your back, like a book of blessings.
Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you. Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, they are always statues to talk to, and benches made for sitting gives strangers a shared existence if only for a minute, and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversation you get in by sitting alone on benches, might of never happened had you not been there by yourself.
Society is afraid of alone though. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after awhile nobody is dating them.
But lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it.
You can stand swathed by groups and mobs or hands with your partner, look both further and farther in the endless quest for company.
But no one is in your head. And by the time you translate your thoughts an essence of them maybe lost or perhaps it is just kept. Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those “sappy slogans” from pre-school over to high school groaning, we’re tokens for holding the lonely at bay.
Cause if you’re happy in your head, then solitude is blessed, and alone is okay.
It’s okay if no one believes like you, all experiences unique, no one has the same synapses, can’t think like you, for this be relived, keeps things interesting, life’s magic things in reach, and it doesn’t mean you aren’t connected, and the community is not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it.
Take silence and respect it.
If you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it, if your family doesn’t get you or a religious sect is not meant for you, don’t obsess about it.
You could be in an instant surrounded if you need it.
If your heart is bleeding, make the best of it.
There is heat in freezing, be a testament.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Depression
Shadows. Technically, a shadow is the silhouette caused by an obstruction of light. It is the absence of light in a given area. There is no such thing as a complete shadow except for deep caves or college dorm rooms with carefully managed blankets, sheets, curtains, and towels to remove all form of outside lighting. Shadows, however, are more than the physical representation of mass. Shadows are my companions.
It's hard to write about depression, sitting in my office with the bright fluorescent lights and open windows. Some might argue that there is no better place to talk about depression than in one's place of work. Yet, my journey with depression did not start with circumstantial placement of employment. It did not start with the death of family members or my parents' divorce, than these are definitely contributing factors. No. Depression is an old friend of mine, the shadowed recess of my soul. And our journey starts together.
By all accounts, I should be happy. Happiness is circumstantial, and my circumstances are not the worst that have ever been experienced by mankind. I have food to eat, a place to sleep, a job that pays my bills, a wife that I love more than life, and I'm starting to realize dreams. My childhood was not overtly stressful or abusive. My parents love me. Yet, through it all, Depression was there, like a silent observer. It watched and categorized events, compounding situations into tangible expressions of my inner doubts and fears, causing the shadows over my soul to lengthen and grow.
However, I recognize that the shadows may be consistent companions, but they are not the sole expression of my Soul. Again, I'm obsessed with the Soul. It just makes sense to me to be obsessed with the Reality of what makes us ourselves. But, I digress. The Shadows of Depression are not the only expression within my Soul. More often than not, there is Light and Color and Music. But occasionally, there is nothing but gray ash, muted noise, and shadow. This dichotomy, I believe, is more than it merely seems, however. For if there is both Shadow and Light at war within my Soul, than there is something directing the forces that are warring.
There is a philosophical theory regarding the Soul that I am inclined to agree with. Unfortunately, I do not know the name of this theory. Feel free to divulge that information should you like. But the theory, in a very primitive way, states that there are three forces within a person. Good. Evil. And the Soul struggling between the two. I'd like to take this theory just a step further and with a little adaptation.
I am Redeemed. That's my standing before the Lord God. Redeemed. Purchased. Bride. Standing under the blood of Christ, I am Righteous before Him. This Redeemed nature is Light. And it should be growing brighter everyday. However, even though I am Redeemed, I am still Man. Fallen. Sinful. This Fallen state is Shadow. And it strives to deepen its roots within me every day. And then there's me. Not the Redeemed me. Not the Fallen me. Just me. Struggling and striving between the two forces at war within me. Granted, I understand that these two forces are not equal, nor are they capable of influencing me unless I surrender to one or the other. And that, my friend, is the struggle. The struggle to surrender to Light or Shadow. Life or Depression. Truth or Lie.
More important than the struggle is the question: what about today? What is today's surrender? Is it to the Life-giving Light of Christ? Or to the Soul-eating Shadow of the Fall? Some days the answer is more clear than others. Today? We'll see. I'd love to say that it is always to the Light, to Christ. But I can't. But that's my desire. And that's my struggle.
It's hard to write about depression, sitting in my office with the bright fluorescent lights and open windows. Some might argue that there is no better place to talk about depression than in one's place of work. Yet, my journey with depression did not start with circumstantial placement of employment. It did not start with the death of family members or my parents' divorce, than these are definitely contributing factors. No. Depression is an old friend of mine, the shadowed recess of my soul. And our journey starts together.
By all accounts, I should be happy. Happiness is circumstantial, and my circumstances are not the worst that have ever been experienced by mankind. I have food to eat, a place to sleep, a job that pays my bills, a wife that I love more than life, and I'm starting to realize dreams. My childhood was not overtly stressful or abusive. My parents love me. Yet, through it all, Depression was there, like a silent observer. It watched and categorized events, compounding situations into tangible expressions of my inner doubts and fears, causing the shadows over my soul to lengthen and grow.
However, I recognize that the shadows may be consistent companions, but they are not the sole expression of my Soul. Again, I'm obsessed with the Soul. It just makes sense to me to be obsessed with the Reality of what makes us ourselves. But, I digress. The Shadows of Depression are not the only expression within my Soul. More often than not, there is Light and Color and Music. But occasionally, there is nothing but gray ash, muted noise, and shadow. This dichotomy, I believe, is more than it merely seems, however. For if there is both Shadow and Light at war within my Soul, than there is something directing the forces that are warring.
There is a philosophical theory regarding the Soul that I am inclined to agree with. Unfortunately, I do not know the name of this theory. Feel free to divulge that information should you like. But the theory, in a very primitive way, states that there are three forces within a person. Good. Evil. And the Soul struggling between the two. I'd like to take this theory just a step further and with a little adaptation.
I am Redeemed. That's my standing before the Lord God. Redeemed. Purchased. Bride. Standing under the blood of Christ, I am Righteous before Him. This Redeemed nature is Light. And it should be growing brighter everyday. However, even though I am Redeemed, I am still Man. Fallen. Sinful. This Fallen state is Shadow. And it strives to deepen its roots within me every day. And then there's me. Not the Redeemed me. Not the Fallen me. Just me. Struggling and striving between the two forces at war within me. Granted, I understand that these two forces are not equal, nor are they capable of influencing me unless I surrender to one or the other. And that, my friend, is the struggle. The struggle to surrender to Light or Shadow. Life or Depression. Truth or Lie.
More important than the struggle is the question: what about today? What is today's surrender? Is it to the Life-giving Light of Christ? Or to the Soul-eating Shadow of the Fall? Some days the answer is more clear than others. Today? We'll see. I'd love to say that it is always to the Light, to Christ. But I can't. But that's my desire. And that's my struggle.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Eat Pray Love - Reflections
Last night was date night. Date night consists of one night a week for the wife and I leave our 2 bedroom apartment and all its trappings and go out. Now, depending upon what week it is, this date night could include dinner, movie, coffee, ice cream, a park, a trip out of the city, etc. The important thing is that we spend an evening out together, just the two of us. Last night was dinner and a movie. Chili's and Eat Pray Love. Britter is a HUGE fan of Julia Roberts, an inclination that I encourage cause I like her as well, and it was either Eat Pray Love or Inception. Neither one of us were in a mood to really think too hard about a movie, so we chose the romantic tale of self discovery. Fail on the not wanting to think about a movie business.
The movie itself was great. It combined elements of acting, storytelling, emotion, setting, and music in ways that have seldom been done before. Even within the story, it brought together a wonderful tale of self discovery and restoration after a mid-life crisis, complete with food, romance, traveling, writing, and laughter. I enjoyed it immensely. However, it awakened in me a few thoughts that I need to write to express, as trying to talk them out never really accomplishes the task. These reflections are not going to come in any specific order of importance; each of them are equally important.
Reflection 1: Lack of Devotion
It amazes me that people of various different religions can show great devotion to their cause. Watching these guru-worshipers as they chant and meditate and send "love and light" to a human woman amazes me. They buy idols of Hindu gods to surround their altar and light candles as they chant and work through their inner demons that clog their mind. They spend time in selfless acts of devotion, serving the community at large. Honestly, I was convicted in the middle of a Julia Roberts movie because my devotion to the Truth and the Way and the Life lacks considerably when compared. Granted, we are not to compare ourselves to others but to Christ. Well, Sunday School Teacher, that's not a step in a better direction for comparison. Honestly, my level of devotion to Christ fails utterly when compared even to a movie's representation of the followers of a false god. Seriously? Yes. Seriously.
Reflection 2: Busyness
In the story, Liz leaves on a year journey around the world after divorcing her husband and living with another boy that did not satisfy the true longings of her heart. All that aside, she spent months in Italy where she learns of an Italian cultural concept: the joy of doing nothing. One of the characters in the movie, Luca, says, "You Americans. You do not know how to have pleasure. You are always entertained, but you have no pleasure in the things you do. We Italians, why pleasure is what we do." Again, it hit me right in the heart. Granted, on a different level than my devotion to Christ, but I am so caught in this world that I take no pleasure in it. When was the last time that I sat down to eat spaghetti and the Queen of the Night aria from The Magic Flute sounded in my head for the simple pleasure of it? When was the last time that I and a group of friends got together and talked of life for the simple joy of it? When was the last time that I heard a new word and just relished the sounds of it as it fell from my tongue? Maybe I'm asking too much of life, but I think that there should be times where it should be enjoyed simply because it is life and it is full of experiences. I am exhausted from the daily accomplishment list of things that need to be, have to be, will be done. I am tired of getting up each day and driving to my job simply because I need to work in this world. I am ready for life to be pleasurable again. Or even pleasurable to start with.
Reflection 3: Travel
Oh my. Seeing images of Rome and Bali made me want to hop on a plane, sell all I have, and go. Well, I missed my opportunity to spend a year abroad and see the world. Which is fine. Really, it is. But this does not quell the desire to go and see and experience. To spend two weeks in Italy, not filling my day with sightseeing and running around the cities. No. To spend two weeks in Italy sauntering from one place to the next with a semi-plan in place of things to see but no exact time and date for every single part of the trip. To spend a few weeks in London walking the foggy streets and seeing plays. To spend weeks in Ireland traveling the countryside and discovering the magic of the Isle. To spend a few weeks in Australia, South Africa, Egypt, Greece, Russia, Brazil, Bali, the Philippines, Canada, Argentina, and wherever else a dart can land on a map. Now, whether that ever happens or not, who knows? But I have the desire. And maybe, that's all I need.
Reflection 4: Music of the Soul
I'm a little obsessed with the Soul. Granted, I think it's a good obsession for the Soul is the only REAL part of me. This physical body will fall and fail and decay, but my Soul I will have forever. In that, I believe that my Soul responds to the world around it in multiple ways. It connects with music, words, smiles, laughter, tears, images, and anything else that it wants to. However, sometimes, I forget that my Soul lives. I forget that I have cluttered my soul with the darkness of this world rather than the Light of Christ. I forget that my Soul desires to live in the freedom of joy and love. I forget that my Soul is the only Real part of me. From it comes all my desires, emotions, loves, hates, words, thoughts, and parts of me that I do not understand. I forget the music it makes as it sings. Now, this may be a little too mystical for some of you, and that's fine. I admit I have a mystic side to me. Yet the truth is this: my Soul longs for something more in this life that I have no idea what it is. Yet there are times when I see, hear, taste, touch, or smell something that awakens it in me. And this movie did just that.
Eat Pray Love is not some catch-all movie designed to open up the hearts of the people to something grand and inescapable or share the secrets of the universe. However, it did awaken my Soul to something more. And it was a very good movie.
The movie itself was great. It combined elements of acting, storytelling, emotion, setting, and music in ways that have seldom been done before. Even within the story, it brought together a wonderful tale of self discovery and restoration after a mid-life crisis, complete with food, romance, traveling, writing, and laughter. I enjoyed it immensely. However, it awakened in me a few thoughts that I need to write to express, as trying to talk them out never really accomplishes the task. These reflections are not going to come in any specific order of importance; each of them are equally important.
Reflection 1: Lack of Devotion
It amazes me that people of various different religions can show great devotion to their cause. Watching these guru-worshipers as they chant and meditate and send "love and light" to a human woman amazes me. They buy idols of Hindu gods to surround their altar and light candles as they chant and work through their inner demons that clog their mind. They spend time in selfless acts of devotion, serving the community at large. Honestly, I was convicted in the middle of a Julia Roberts movie because my devotion to the Truth and the Way and the Life lacks considerably when compared. Granted, we are not to compare ourselves to others but to Christ. Well, Sunday School Teacher, that's not a step in a better direction for comparison. Honestly, my level of devotion to Christ fails utterly when compared even to a movie's representation of the followers of a false god. Seriously? Yes. Seriously.
Reflection 2: Busyness
In the story, Liz leaves on a year journey around the world after divorcing her husband and living with another boy that did not satisfy the true longings of her heart. All that aside, she spent months in Italy where she learns of an Italian cultural concept: the joy of doing nothing. One of the characters in the movie, Luca, says, "You Americans. You do not know how to have pleasure. You are always entertained, but you have no pleasure in the things you do. We Italians, why pleasure is what we do." Again, it hit me right in the heart. Granted, on a different level than my devotion to Christ, but I am so caught in this world that I take no pleasure in it. When was the last time that I sat down to eat spaghetti and the Queen of the Night aria from The Magic Flute sounded in my head for the simple pleasure of it? When was the last time that I and a group of friends got together and talked of life for the simple joy of it? When was the last time that I heard a new word and just relished the sounds of it as it fell from my tongue? Maybe I'm asking too much of life, but I think that there should be times where it should be enjoyed simply because it is life and it is full of experiences. I am exhausted from the daily accomplishment list of things that need to be, have to be, will be done. I am tired of getting up each day and driving to my job simply because I need to work in this world. I am ready for life to be pleasurable again. Or even pleasurable to start with.
Reflection 3: Travel
Oh my. Seeing images of Rome and Bali made me want to hop on a plane, sell all I have, and go. Well, I missed my opportunity to spend a year abroad and see the world. Which is fine. Really, it is. But this does not quell the desire to go and see and experience. To spend two weeks in Italy, not filling my day with sightseeing and running around the cities. No. To spend two weeks in Italy sauntering from one place to the next with a semi-plan in place of things to see but no exact time and date for every single part of the trip. To spend a few weeks in London walking the foggy streets and seeing plays. To spend weeks in Ireland traveling the countryside and discovering the magic of the Isle. To spend a few weeks in Australia, South Africa, Egypt, Greece, Russia, Brazil, Bali, the Philippines, Canada, Argentina, and wherever else a dart can land on a map. Now, whether that ever happens or not, who knows? But I have the desire. And maybe, that's all I need.
Reflection 4: Music of the Soul
I'm a little obsessed with the Soul. Granted, I think it's a good obsession for the Soul is the only REAL part of me. This physical body will fall and fail and decay, but my Soul I will have forever. In that, I believe that my Soul responds to the world around it in multiple ways. It connects with music, words, smiles, laughter, tears, images, and anything else that it wants to. However, sometimes, I forget that my Soul lives. I forget that I have cluttered my soul with the darkness of this world rather than the Light of Christ. I forget that my Soul desires to live in the freedom of joy and love. I forget that my Soul is the only Real part of me. From it comes all my desires, emotions, loves, hates, words, thoughts, and parts of me that I do not understand. I forget the music it makes as it sings. Now, this may be a little too mystical for some of you, and that's fine. I admit I have a mystic side to me. Yet the truth is this: my Soul longs for something more in this life that I have no idea what it is. Yet there are times when I see, hear, taste, touch, or smell something that awakens it in me. And this movie did just that.
Eat Pray Love is not some catch-all movie designed to open up the hearts of the people to something grand and inescapable or share the secrets of the universe. However, it did awaken my Soul to something more. And it was a very good movie.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Selfishness
When was the last time you were moved to tears by praying for someone else?
When was the last time that the love of God caused an emotional outpouring that rivaled your love for your significant other?
When was the last time that passion erupted out of what you desired and formed an action that was real?
When was the last time that you sought the company of a friend just to share the joy of life and truth?
When was the last time that you were sought out by a friend just to share the joy of life and truth?
These are the questions I ponder as I fall asleep at night. These are the questions that I can't answer.
When was the last time that the love of God caused an emotional outpouring that rivaled your love for your significant other?
When was the last time that passion erupted out of what you desired and formed an action that was real?
When was the last time that you sought the company of a friend just to share the joy of life and truth?
When was the last time that you were sought out by a friend just to share the joy of life and truth?
These are the questions I ponder as I fall asleep at night. These are the questions that I can't answer.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Through the Window
For most of my life, I have always had the sensation of being on the outside looking in. In every friend group, in every relationship (minus one), in every family situation, I've always felt like I was outside of it, excluded from it, denied it.
Now, this could lead to a pity party and an overly emotional, dramatic event, but that is the opposite way this should go. Because, the question is, why? Why would I feel like that? Is the friend groups I choose, or the relationships I build, or the situations I find myself? Is it my personality to always feel excluded, some martyr tendency that builds a divide between myself and the world? Is it just life situations: am I in a different place than every other person I know and therefore suffer loneliness for it?
I don't know. But I do know that the only relationship that isn't like this is the one with my wife. She's the only constant and my true best friend. Times may be tough, difficult, interesting, great, joyful, or sorrowful. But she's all I want at the end of the day.
Yet, I still desire the companionship I once had with others. I don't think it can all be chalked up to "growing up." That's not okay with me. There must be something else, something more, something deeper to this desire that goes unfulfilled. Otherwise, why would it pain me to see life like an outsider looking in?
Through the window is a world full of drama, frustration, irritation, and many other emotions. Yet, it's a world full of laughter, joy, tears, and pain. It's a world of community. Maybe that's what I want and just cannot seem to find. Community.
Now, this could lead to a pity party and an overly emotional, dramatic event, but that is the opposite way this should go. Because, the question is, why? Why would I feel like that? Is the friend groups I choose, or the relationships I build, or the situations I find myself? Is it my personality to always feel excluded, some martyr tendency that builds a divide between myself and the world? Is it just life situations: am I in a different place than every other person I know and therefore suffer loneliness for it?
I don't know. But I do know that the only relationship that isn't like this is the one with my wife. She's the only constant and my true best friend. Times may be tough, difficult, interesting, great, joyful, or sorrowful. But she's all I want at the end of the day.
Yet, I still desire the companionship I once had with others. I don't think it can all be chalked up to "growing up." That's not okay with me. There must be something else, something more, something deeper to this desire that goes unfulfilled. Otherwise, why would it pain me to see life like an outsider looking in?
Through the window is a world full of drama, frustration, irritation, and many other emotions. Yet, it's a world full of laughter, joy, tears, and pain. It's a world of community. Maybe that's what I want and just cannot seem to find. Community.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Other Worlds
I've always had an overactive imagination. Seriously, always. As a kid, when most people were out playing war or playing ball, I was imagining worlds and friends. I saw the woods around me as portals to other worlds. I would cease to be a boy and become a prince, a pirate, a wizard, a dragon-keeper... and anything else I could imagine myself as. My friends became those I could create around me. Every waking moment was spent building a world around me that I wanted to be in. Anyone but this one.
And I'm doing it again.
I've taken upon myself to write a novel set in a world I've been creating since I was a teenager. A world filled with magic, nature, adventure, and, hopefully, depth. It's a world where trees are governed by Masters, the rich have magical guardians, and a brother sets out to avenge his parents' deaths.
It's a world I want to be in, but it's all in my head. And I lose myself to it.
I work in a call center. And as I go on autopilot answering questions with formulated answers, my mind wanders down the paths that I created, forming new places, peoples, and whatever else I can come up with as the day moves on. And then, at night, I find myself constantly finding new things or deepening old things. It's all I can think about sometimes. But, I guess that's the way of it.
One loses oneself to one's art. So I lose myself in the story.
And I'm doing it again.
I've taken upon myself to write a novel set in a world I've been creating since I was a teenager. A world filled with magic, nature, adventure, and, hopefully, depth. It's a world where trees are governed by Masters, the rich have magical guardians, and a brother sets out to avenge his parents' deaths.
It's a world I want to be in, but it's all in my head. And I lose myself to it.
I work in a call center. And as I go on autopilot answering questions with formulated answers, my mind wanders down the paths that I created, forming new places, peoples, and whatever else I can come up with as the day moves on. And then, at night, I find myself constantly finding new things or deepening old things. It's all I can think about sometimes. But, I guess that's the way of it.
One loses oneself to one's art. So I lose myself in the story.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Art of the Sabbath
The Sabbath. The In-Between. The Day in which the world waits with baited-breath for something else, something different, something new. A Day of rest, comfort, solitude, meditation, and, often, worry. It is the Day that leaves us wanting so much more than we can ever have and realize how little we have.
This is where we live. We live in the Sabbath twixt the Comings.
I read an article today about how art moves us, as humans, to recognize the pain of what we lost on Friday to the joy of what is gained on Sunday. Yet, art only means something when it's on Saturday, the Sabbath. This article goes into detail about different forms of art, music, movies, books, etc. and how they can focus on the suffering darkness of Friday. These forms of art reveal the depth of human immorality, depravity, and the Fall. Other forms of art (used here to express the above-mentioned list) can focus on Sunday, often leaving a sense of faux-joy and a longing for the inexpressible. But it is on Saturday that art moves us past the suffering of Friday into the joy of Sunday. It is on this day that we move beyond this mortal life and slip past the veil into a realm unknown.
This is the purpose of art: to call out of us that longing for the other side of the veil of life. It, unlike what Oscar Wilde may believe, does not exist for its own sake. To believe this is paramount to saying a tree grows for its own sake. A tree grows because that's what trees do. They grow. And in doing so, they provide shade, oxygen, shelter, wood, and a billion other things for which they were designed. Art is the same: it exists to call out of the soul the very thing that causes us to long for the life we know is ours right beyond the veil of this existence.
Just in case you didn't catch it, I'm a little obsessed with this idea of the Veil. That's because I believe that all that separates us from the next life is a Veil. A Veil cloaks our vision so that we don't see the Realm of Spirit. A Veil keeps us interested in this life and its trappings. A Veil keeps us focused on ourselves. To move past the Veil is to recognize that there is another Place that is more Real than this one. It is to focus on Truth and Life, following the Way and living in Hope. To live beyond the Veil is to live Life like it was meant to be lived. To live beyond the Veil is to see past ourselves and see He Who Made Us.
Art moves us past the Veil. For a sweet, eternal moment, art moves us to a place that we can see that there is Something more Real and inexpressible than we could ever dream.
Art of the Sabbath moves us from Friday to Sunday. It is our companion on this long Day's journey. And it makes the walk so much more bearable than we could ever know.
Thanks be to God, for He is the Artist.
Amen.
This is where we live. We live in the Sabbath twixt the Comings.
I read an article today about how art moves us, as humans, to recognize the pain of what we lost on Friday to the joy of what is gained on Sunday. Yet, art only means something when it's on Saturday, the Sabbath. This article goes into detail about different forms of art, music, movies, books, etc. and how they can focus on the suffering darkness of Friday. These forms of art reveal the depth of human immorality, depravity, and the Fall. Other forms of art (used here to express the above-mentioned list) can focus on Sunday, often leaving a sense of faux-joy and a longing for the inexpressible. But it is on Saturday that art moves us past the suffering of Friday into the joy of Sunday. It is on this day that we move beyond this mortal life and slip past the veil into a realm unknown.
This is the purpose of art: to call out of us that longing for the other side of the veil of life. It, unlike what Oscar Wilde may believe, does not exist for its own sake. To believe this is paramount to saying a tree grows for its own sake. A tree grows because that's what trees do. They grow. And in doing so, they provide shade, oxygen, shelter, wood, and a billion other things for which they were designed. Art is the same: it exists to call out of the soul the very thing that causes us to long for the life we know is ours right beyond the veil of this existence.
Just in case you didn't catch it, I'm a little obsessed with this idea of the Veil. That's because I believe that all that separates us from the next life is a Veil. A Veil cloaks our vision so that we don't see the Realm of Spirit. A Veil keeps us interested in this life and its trappings. A Veil keeps us focused on ourselves. To move past the Veil is to recognize that there is another Place that is more Real than this one. It is to focus on Truth and Life, following the Way and living in Hope. To live beyond the Veil is to live Life like it was meant to be lived. To live beyond the Veil is to see past ourselves and see He Who Made Us.
Art moves us past the Veil. For a sweet, eternal moment, art moves us to a place that we can see that there is Something more Real and inexpressible than we could ever dream.
Art of the Sabbath moves us from Friday to Sunday. It is our companion on this long Day's journey. And it makes the walk so much more bearable than we could ever know.
Thanks be to God, for He is the Artist.
Amen.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Ode to Emerging Adulthood
The Age of Twixters is upon us, has been, and will not go away.
It lasts too long and comes too soon; it makes everything seem both bright and dreary.
It's a light that causes more shadows than illuminations, waiting for the next step in the maze.
Yet, for those who walk by the light of this lantern, the steady steps begin to falter as the maze becomes a hill becomes a wood becomes a mountain.
The mirror walks before us, reflecting every move. While all the while we're lost, throwing coins in fountains for someone to connect, someone to direct, someone to let us be independent while depending.
Crying out for consistency while changing plans at every turn.
Do we really know what we want? And why does that matter?
Emerging Adulthood is the span of life from "18 till one enters adulthood." Ok, so when is that? Adulthood is that varying, shifting idea that never really happens until children start to call us Mom and Dad and others refer to us as Mr. and Ms. We are so focused on ourselves, our needs, our wants, our desires that we forget to look past us and see the world. But social justice is "trendy" to us. We're fighting for our right to support the rights of others. We want this utopia that never ends when all we really get is lost in the fog. Where did this come from? From whom did this appear?
It may be that life itself has brought this change. It may be that the ever-changing sands of culture have shifted us into this position. Yet, we have no one to blame but ourselves. We have brought out this change, striving to stay as long as possible in our cocoons of irresponsibility and parental reliance. The world is not out to get us. Our government is not destroying us. The world is not moving towards those other ideas in 1984 and A Brave New World. At least, not yet. No, we just need to remember that life is more than what we get or what we do or what we are. Life is meant to be lived, not planned, segregated, and compartmentalized. Life is life itself, and it belongs to another land beyond the veil of this three-dimensional realm we call Earth. Life is lived by the soul.
This is what we've forgotten. This is why we cannot move past ourselves. We've forgotten how to live from our soul.
It lasts too long and comes too soon; it makes everything seem both bright and dreary.
It's a light that causes more shadows than illuminations, waiting for the next step in the maze.
Yet, for those who walk by the light of this lantern, the steady steps begin to falter as the maze becomes a hill becomes a wood becomes a mountain.
The mirror walks before us, reflecting every move. While all the while we're lost, throwing coins in fountains for someone to connect, someone to direct, someone to let us be independent while depending.
Crying out for consistency while changing plans at every turn.
Do we really know what we want? And why does that matter?
Emerging Adulthood is the span of life from "18 till one enters adulthood." Ok, so when is that? Adulthood is that varying, shifting idea that never really happens until children start to call us Mom and Dad and others refer to us as Mr. and Ms. We are so focused on ourselves, our needs, our wants, our desires that we forget to look past us and see the world. But social justice is "trendy" to us. We're fighting for our right to support the rights of others. We want this utopia that never ends when all we really get is lost in the fog. Where did this come from? From whom did this appear?
It may be that life itself has brought this change. It may be that the ever-changing sands of culture have shifted us into this position. Yet, we have no one to blame but ourselves. We have brought out this change, striving to stay as long as possible in our cocoons of irresponsibility and parental reliance. The world is not out to get us. Our government is not destroying us. The world is not moving towards those other ideas in 1984 and A Brave New World. At least, not yet. No, we just need to remember that life is more than what we get or what we do or what we are. Life is meant to be lived, not planned, segregated, and compartmentalized. Life is life itself, and it belongs to another land beyond the veil of this three-dimensional realm we call Earth. Life is lived by the soul.
This is what we've forgotten. This is why we cannot move past ourselves. We've forgotten how to live from our soul.
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