This was written August 30, this summer, all over and on the back of a piece of paper at work...I knew I'd come back to it, I guess:
8.30.10
I know how it's gonna feel, kind of. Pretty soon I'm going to be standing on the streets of Paris staring at the l'Arc de Triomphe and wondering at how far away all of these happenings are so far away from me geographically, yes, but mentally and emotionally too. But, this will all still nonetheless have become a part of who I am and how I will be because I went through it. And go through it is exactly what I want to do. To skirt around it or avoid I want very much to do on the one hand, but on the other, but on the other my prayer is that I be given the strength to LEAN into it. Not just "go through it" but do it and do it WELL. God help me.
A lot of this is true, what I wrote that day. On October 30th I'm sitting here staring from a balcony out on a Tuscan valley. I'm relaxed a bit, because Italy has been a bit healing for me this last week or so, and has "filled me up" in some respects, which is a small gift from God--I'm so grateful. But, I also am surprised to some degree had how far some of this year's events actually don't seem at the moment. I'm still processing and surrendering and wondering at the direction(s) my life takes...it's beautiful though. It's beautiful the manner in which our experiences become us in the sense that they make us "become" and they shape and mold. God, thank You for process and thank You for said experiences. May I never live merely on the surface, but always lean. Into whatever You have for me.
-T. Emerson
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Lean
I know how it’s going to feel. Kind of. Pretty soon I’m going to be standing on the streets of Paris, staring at l’Arc de Triomphe and wondering at how far away all of these happenings are, this and all of what has gone on....so far away from me geographically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally. Hopefully even spiritually.
But it’s one thing to know that soon I will be having such thoughts, and still trying to maintain just such a perspective when I’m still in the trenches, so to speak.
Nonetheless, all of this summer will have become a part of who I am and am becoming for having gone through it. And go through is precisely what I want to do. None of this would I truly want to circumvent by avoidance--even if I may have moments when I feel otherwise. Go through it indeed, and in so doing, ever leaning into it: I don’t want to just do this thing. I want to do it well. God help me.
For better or worse, our experiences are one of the few things that can never be taken from us. They become us as we become them, until the point when we don’t know where the line is between them. May I never live my experiences on a purely surface level--even those over which I possess no control. May I forever lean and move forward.
But it’s one thing to know that soon I will be having such thoughts, and still trying to maintain just such a perspective when I’m still in the trenches, so to speak.
Nonetheless, all of this summer will have become a part of who I am and am becoming for having gone through it. And go through is precisely what I want to do. None of this would I truly want to circumvent by avoidance--even if I may have moments when I feel otherwise. Go through it indeed, and in so doing, ever leaning into it: I don’t want to just do this thing. I want to do it well. God help me.
For better or worse, our experiences are one of the few things that can never be taken from us. They become us as we become them, until the point when we don’t know where the line is between them. May I never live my experiences on a purely surface level--even those over which I possess no control. May I forever lean and move forward.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Byproduct
I can see how in the past, I manipulated. I manipulated some situations and relationships and circumstances, and then reaped the consequences of such manipulation. Last time, I could kind of blame myself for how things ended up and even for getting hurt. I moved on fore sure; emotionally, spiritually and certainly geographically.
This time, I didn’t manipulate any of it. I’ve waited. On Him. And it’s kept getting uglier and uglier and closer and closer. I didn’t orchestrate any facet of this whole thing--I wish I knew what was right, what to do and/or say and how to handle the whole or even a part of this thing. God, why do I end up in things like this?
Karissa once told me that “drama” can sometimes be a byproduct of actively and deeply loving others. If that is so, then let it be. I would never want to sacrifice transparency and growth and promoting both those things and more in others for the sake of living a more comfortable and more drama free existence. God forbid.
This said, God I just pray you’d give me the wisdom and strength to navigate these things with love and grace--and Truth. Never may I pursue comfort or easier to the detriment of Truth: Your heart. There’s a lot of ugly right now. Show up. Please....
Love, Your Painting.
This time, I didn’t manipulate any of it. I’ve waited. On Him. And it’s kept getting uglier and uglier and closer and closer. I didn’t orchestrate any facet of this whole thing--I wish I knew what was right, what to do and/or say and how to handle the whole or even a part of this thing. God, why do I end up in things like this?
Karissa once told me that “drama” can sometimes be a byproduct of actively and deeply loving others. If that is so, then let it be. I would never want to sacrifice transparency and growth and promoting both those things and more in others for the sake of living a more comfortable and more drama free existence. God forbid.
This said, God I just pray you’d give me the wisdom and strength to navigate these things with love and grace--and Truth. Never may I pursue comfort or easier to the detriment of Truth: Your heart. There’s a lot of ugly right now. Show up. Please....
Love, Your Painting.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Year Old Wisdom
I ran a across a journal entry from just about a year ago that kind of hit home anew. Here it is, with only slight modifications:
4.8.09
...I think that true humility has compassion on pride seen in others. If one reacts to pride in others in any other fashion--it's probably his own pride resonating with another's in an uncomfortable and (hopefully) convicting way. God, let me get to the compassion stage.
God, my pride looks on that of others and...hates it. I react to it instead of respond. I wish I didn't. God, take this ugliness far way from me and eradicate even its traces...
4.12.10
Echo, echo. Certainly.
4.8.09
...I think that true humility has compassion on pride seen in others. If one reacts to pride in others in any other fashion--it's probably his own pride resonating with another's in an uncomfortable and (hopefully) convicting way. God, let me get to the compassion stage.
God, my pride looks on that of others and...hates it. I react to it instead of respond. I wish I didn't. God, take this ugliness far way from me and eradicate even its traces...
4.12.10
Echo, echo. Certainly.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Carry Us Over....
Jesus turn this wine back into water
So it can quench our poor and thirsty souls
The desert is dry as hell and getting hotter
The truth is only your love makes us whole
So carry us over the finish line
we can see the end but our feet are so tired
It's obvious we're useless on our own
So carry us over the finish line
we can see the end but our feet are so tired
Don't know how to be sober
Jesus carry us over
We wanna go home........
-Kelli Shaefer
So it can quench our poor and thirsty souls
The desert is dry as hell and getting hotter
The truth is only your love makes us whole
So carry us over the finish line
we can see the end but our feet are so tired
It's obvious we're useless on our own
So carry us over the finish line
we can see the end but our feet are so tired
Don't know how to be sober
Jesus carry us over
We wanna go home........
-Kelli Shaefer
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Irresistable Revolution
"We can be moral but not alive; a lot of conservatives and liberals have taught me that....There are many people who are morally 'pure' but devoid of any life, joy, or celebration. For some, this 'purity' means that we do not touch anything that is 'secular', and for others, it means that we don't eat anything that is not 'organic'. But if it is not born of relationships, if it is not liberating for the oppressed and the oppressors, if it is not marked by raw, passionate love, then it is the same old self-righteousness that does little more than flaunt our own purity by making the rest of the world see how dirty they are....No one is beyond redemption."
-Shane Claiborne
-Shane Claiborne
Friday, February 5, 2010
Studio Dialogue III
“This room is kinda chilly, Master, and I don’t really recognize any of the other paintings hanging in here.” The little painting didn’t often hesitate to speak her thoughts, and this time was no exception.
“Well, naturally you don’t recognize or even understand many of these paintings around you, because I just moved you to this room. But you’re beginning to get to know them, aren’t you? You’ll understand them better in time as they will understand you, but don’t forget that part of the reason I put you in this very room is for precisely such a thing. I’ve told you before that there are always so many more facets to what I’m doing than you could ever grasp, but I will tell you that part of things for the moment.” The Master Painter patiently blinked, working away and softly breathing through a nearly imperceptible smile.
“So, do you think You could also tell me why You moved me to this room? I mean, I knew I was supposed to change Gallery chambers at some point, but I thought that I was going to that other room and then I ended up here...And I’m not saying that I’m not happy where I am, because I really am--but I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense to me. I really haven’t figured this all out yet. And this climate does something strange to my colors too, Master.” Surprisingly, she uttered all of this with a mystified but contented demeanor. Honestly she felt more bewildered with many of her circumstances than she did displeased.
“Well, one small part of the color thing you mention also has to do with the temperature of the room that you mentioned. The cooler temperature helps preserve: it’s good for you. You’ll acclimate--don’t let it bother you. As for this alteration of chambers, this is one of those things that You won’t understand until later. Plainly put, honey, it’s not for you to know. Yet. There will come a day when you’ll understand better.”
“Okay, Master. If there’s one thing I’ve been learning it’s that it’s one thing to ‘know’ that You know Best--like we talked about before--but it’s another thing for me just wait and ‘let’ you work out all of these things into this picture you’re making of me. I can’t see it the way You do, but sometimes, Master, I feel like it would be easier on both of us if I could!”
The Painter nodded in acknowledgement as He listened to her heartfelt burst of emotion. She often regretted articulating herself immediately after doing so, but when she was communicating with the Painter she took more and more refuge in the fact that he never discouraged her bluntness. She knew that her honesty gave a certain quality to the colors that He gave her, because He was good enough to remind her so. But she was frustrated with how these said colors were “changing” at the moment.
“And Master, what’s going on with my colors right now?! I’ve never experienced these techniques and I’m so not used to it that it doesn’t even feel like painting. It’s been a while since I’ve even seen a familiar brush, but I still see you working away so diligently.”
“Do you remember how I told you about layering and the like?”
“Yes...”
“Well, there is some of that going on, and you’re quick to perceive new techniques and changes in your colors. Once again, there’s more to it than any sole dimension, but I don’t think you ever fully perceived how the colors in and of the paintings in your previous room reflected off and changed your own to varying degrees. And you did the same for them. This was certainly no negative thing in most ways. However, it came to the point that I had prepared for you. You were ready to leave.”
He paused, knowing she would need a moment to adequately process His words, then resumed,
“As you grow into the room you’re now in, the colors and images around you will grow into your picture and you will change. Can I just say that as Master Painter, being the Artist of all of this said process is one of my favorite things about what I do?”
He smiled faintly, closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a deep contented breath. Opening them, He began to exude a happy glow and she saw for a fleeting instant a brief flicker of an extraordinary color spectrum dance quickly across his visage. Simultaneously in awe and overwhelmed, she wondered at it but didn’t ask.
“I know you’re at once enamored and frustrated with all of these colors I choose for you, my love. But lest you forget how precious they are, let me remind you of the uniqueness every hue you possess. You have strokes and hints of colors becoming images which are becoming the larger picture of you designed to fit into not only the immediate environment around You but ultimately my entire Collection. And these tones that you have are perfectly exclusive to you, just as the telling and becoming of your Canvas.”
“I always need to be reminded of everything,” she murmured. “It seems like as soon as You get done telling me something I’ve already forgotten the first sentence....”
The Master Painter chuckled and shook his head as she trailed off.
“Oh sweetheart, that’s what I’m here for. And also, I wanted to tell you that one thing I’m working into your Canvas right now is that I’m maturing some of these unique hues and tones I was talking about. There will come a point in your process where you will better understand how the pigments I’ve chosen for you can be used unto their full potential. I’m beginning that journey in you right now. This is part of why the techniques you’re experiencing right now feel like such new territory. You’re ready for it, and I’m so proud of you for that. There’s so much about you that is still so raw and emergent. This in itself is beautiful in its transient nature. However, the moment your impatience impedes my ability to mature and grow the Art of your Canvas, you cease to let Me be the one to paint you and you let other processes in your story.”
“Never do I want that!” She virtually shouted. “I mean, we’ve talked about this before and I will hang on for Best, Master. I know it will be worth it. I know. I guess it’s just another one of those things that’s easier to ‘know’ than to ‘let’.”
“The more difficult something is for you to ‘let’, my dear--and not just ‘know’--the more beautiful it looks on your Canvas when followed through unto completion. And the more honored am I in being Your Artist.”
“Wow. Another one of those things I forget.”
She was reeling with all of the information and reminders packed into the much needed conversation, but still had one thing left on her mind.
“Master, am I going to stay in this room for a while?”
The Painter did not immediately verbally respond. However when He did, He had become as equally reproachful as forbearant.
“My dear Canvas--for that is what you are, please listen to these words of mine. One of the most incalculably strategic and thematic elements in all of the Art of my entire Collection is a sense of timing. As the Canvas that you are you will never fully fathom my ways, but you must always hold that I have no plans but to prosper you. This, my love, is not the time for you to know this thing you ask me. I will unveil to you such a thing, when it is time. Understood, my dear?”
“Yes, Painter. Yes.”
She watched Him vigorously mix some dyes and pigments on His palette while it took her a moment to muster the courage to supplicate conclusively:
“But Master, please...please help me let this one happen in every way and not just know it! Please, please help.”
“I promise you that, child. I promise.”
“Well, naturally you don’t recognize or even understand many of these paintings around you, because I just moved you to this room. But you’re beginning to get to know them, aren’t you? You’ll understand them better in time as they will understand you, but don’t forget that part of the reason I put you in this very room is for precisely such a thing. I’ve told you before that there are always so many more facets to what I’m doing than you could ever grasp, but I will tell you that part of things for the moment.” The Master Painter patiently blinked, working away and softly breathing through a nearly imperceptible smile.
“So, do you think You could also tell me why You moved me to this room? I mean, I knew I was supposed to change Gallery chambers at some point, but I thought that I was going to that other room and then I ended up here...And I’m not saying that I’m not happy where I am, because I really am--but I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense to me. I really haven’t figured this all out yet. And this climate does something strange to my colors too, Master.” Surprisingly, she uttered all of this with a mystified but contented demeanor. Honestly she felt more bewildered with many of her circumstances than she did displeased.
“Well, one small part of the color thing you mention also has to do with the temperature of the room that you mentioned. The cooler temperature helps preserve: it’s good for you. You’ll acclimate--don’t let it bother you. As for this alteration of chambers, this is one of those things that You won’t understand until later. Plainly put, honey, it’s not for you to know. Yet. There will come a day when you’ll understand better.”
“Okay, Master. If there’s one thing I’ve been learning it’s that it’s one thing to ‘know’ that You know Best--like we talked about before--but it’s another thing for me just wait and ‘let’ you work out all of these things into this picture you’re making of me. I can’t see it the way You do, but sometimes, Master, I feel like it would be easier on both of us if I could!”
The Painter nodded in acknowledgement as He listened to her heartfelt burst of emotion. She often regretted articulating herself immediately after doing so, but when she was communicating with the Painter she took more and more refuge in the fact that he never discouraged her bluntness. She knew that her honesty gave a certain quality to the colors that He gave her, because He was good enough to remind her so. But she was frustrated with how these said colors were “changing” at the moment.
“And Master, what’s going on with my colors right now?! I’ve never experienced these techniques and I’m so not used to it that it doesn’t even feel like painting. It’s been a while since I’ve even seen a familiar brush, but I still see you working away so diligently.”
“Do you remember how I told you about layering and the like?”
“Yes...”
“Well, there is some of that going on, and you’re quick to perceive new techniques and changes in your colors. Once again, there’s more to it than any sole dimension, but I don’t think you ever fully perceived how the colors in and of the paintings in your previous room reflected off and changed your own to varying degrees. And you did the same for them. This was certainly no negative thing in most ways. However, it came to the point that I had prepared for you. You were ready to leave.”
He paused, knowing she would need a moment to adequately process His words, then resumed,
“As you grow into the room you’re now in, the colors and images around you will grow into your picture and you will change. Can I just say that as Master Painter, being the Artist of all of this said process is one of my favorite things about what I do?”
He smiled faintly, closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a deep contented breath. Opening them, He began to exude a happy glow and she saw for a fleeting instant a brief flicker of an extraordinary color spectrum dance quickly across his visage. Simultaneously in awe and overwhelmed, she wondered at it but didn’t ask.
“I know you’re at once enamored and frustrated with all of these colors I choose for you, my love. But lest you forget how precious they are, let me remind you of the uniqueness every hue you possess. You have strokes and hints of colors becoming images which are becoming the larger picture of you designed to fit into not only the immediate environment around You but ultimately my entire Collection. And these tones that you have are perfectly exclusive to you, just as the telling and becoming of your Canvas.”
“I always need to be reminded of everything,” she murmured. “It seems like as soon as You get done telling me something I’ve already forgotten the first sentence....”
The Master Painter chuckled and shook his head as she trailed off.
“Oh sweetheart, that’s what I’m here for. And also, I wanted to tell you that one thing I’m working into your Canvas right now is that I’m maturing some of these unique hues and tones I was talking about. There will come a point in your process where you will better understand how the pigments I’ve chosen for you can be used unto their full potential. I’m beginning that journey in you right now. This is part of why the techniques you’re experiencing right now feel like such new territory. You’re ready for it, and I’m so proud of you for that. There’s so much about you that is still so raw and emergent. This in itself is beautiful in its transient nature. However, the moment your impatience impedes my ability to mature and grow the Art of your Canvas, you cease to let Me be the one to paint you and you let other processes in your story.”
“Never do I want that!” She virtually shouted. “I mean, we’ve talked about this before and I will hang on for Best, Master. I know it will be worth it. I know. I guess it’s just another one of those things that’s easier to ‘know’ than to ‘let’.”
“The more difficult something is for you to ‘let’, my dear--and not just ‘know’--the more beautiful it looks on your Canvas when followed through unto completion. And the more honored am I in being Your Artist.”
“Wow. Another one of those things I forget.”
She was reeling with all of the information and reminders packed into the much needed conversation, but still had one thing left on her mind.
“Master, am I going to stay in this room for a while?”
The Painter did not immediately verbally respond. However when He did, He had become as equally reproachful as forbearant.
“My dear Canvas--for that is what you are, please listen to these words of mine. One of the most incalculably strategic and thematic elements in all of the Art of my entire Collection is a sense of timing. As the Canvas that you are you will never fully fathom my ways, but you must always hold that I have no plans but to prosper you. This, my love, is not the time for you to know this thing you ask me. I will unveil to you such a thing, when it is time. Understood, my dear?”
“Yes, Painter. Yes.”
She watched Him vigorously mix some dyes and pigments on His palette while it took her a moment to muster the courage to supplicate conclusively:
“But Master, please...please help me let this one happen in every way and not just know it! Please, please help.”
“I promise you that, child. I promise.”
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