Shakespeare

As I stated yesterday, Shakespeare inspires me. He inspires me to command my language better and expands my paradigms on the meaning of individual words and sometimes phrases.

This is my favorite of his sonnets. It's talks about true beauty. It talks about how "beauty" is made truly beautiful for the truth, integrity, and for me I read transparency into it as well.

This the kind of beauty I strive and desire to possess...that sweet ornament which truth doth give.


SONNET 54

O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
   And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
   When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.

--William Shakespeare

(Day 25)

Inspired

I hate how our society tends to laugh off inspiring moments after they pass. Obviously, not everyone does this and no one does it always, but in my experience the general trend is that when we hear or see something amazing, we agree with it, we resonate, we move on with life. Little seems to change and then later we sort of chuckle at the experience.

I hate that. Are we scared to take those moments seriously and actually live up to them--actually live for more? Obviously those inspiring quotes, pictures, moments or whatever resonate for a reason. Are we scared to let them actually change our lives?

I think so.

I love to get inspired. But I have a faith that inspires me, too. I have a faith that reminds me that, yes, in fact there is so much more to live for. And yes, thank God, I can start doing that now.

I think it takes courage to allow yourself to be inspired by someone, something and let it actually change you--even if the change is initially imperceptible. And then the more that you choose this the more you change, and the more you become who you want to be.

I think it takes courage to rethink our priorities and actually rearrange our life. And I think it takes a constant willingness to be reminded of what's important, what we really want and a constant humility to decide to stay on a trajectory toward health and wholeness and change--not just for ourselves but for the world. And that means that it takes courage to be inspired.

I love to be inspired.

Shakespeare inspires me.
Moses inspires me.
Samuel inspires me.
Bob Goff inspires me.
International justice inspires me.
Hearing a foreign language on the street inspires me.
A well elocuted lecture inspires me.
The future me, what I can become inspires me.
Jesus inspires me.

I never want to quit being inspired. Nor do I want to treat inspiration as a fleeting phenomenon. I find that to be cynical and cowardly.

(Day 24)

Because Day 23

I'm only writing this because I made a commitment to write every day for a month and I will follow through with it.

It's hard because I don't always have something of substance to say, so I find that I end up writing more benign and banal thoughts and while I do so I rue the words I string together.

I don't want to do that tonight, so I'd rather just explain why I'm not saying much of anything at all.

There it is.

Bonne nuit.

(Day 23)

IDLO Rome

Well, I finally did it today. I emailed IDLO.

International Development Law Organization (IDLO) has been on my mind since we went there on a "class field trip" in Rome. I was entirely impressed with all I learned about the organization and what it stands for. Of course, I told myself that day that I wanted to work--or at least intern--there. But then of course, I also told myself that it would wear off and that I always say that when I get inspired by something.

But this one hasn't worn off, I just keep thinking about it so today I finally wrote them.

I don't know why I'm so nervous about it because it was just an email, it wasn't even an application of any sort.

But then, maybe I do know why. It's because there's this pattern in my life of whatever I really want to do I don't get to do it the first time I try: Alaska, France, working for the State of Alaska, the LSAT, I even put of law school applications a year...all of these were essentially career moves too.

I really, really want to be a part of this organization and learn all it has to offer me. What's more is they seem to essentially be a Compliance & Ethics-centered NGO and I am all about their mission.

But all sorts of feelings of inadequacy rise up in me. My French isn't native, my Italian needs work. (Yes, I know, I'm a perfectionist...) I'm just a small-town American girl, I lack the culture of so many others that are so much more "international" than I and so much more qualified. All those terrible internal voices of insecurity. My head knows their not true but then the same head seems to be feeding me the filthy lines, too. Regardless of the caliber of skill I possess I unequivocally have this going for me: an unquenchable drive to learn whatever it is I need to do what I'm passionate about. I will work and not tire. I know what I love and I know what I'm passionate about. I'll be interested to hear what they have to say.

I want this. I kind of wish I didn't want it so bad--I know the process of disappointment all too well. But I have to know now if I even have a chance, otherwise I need to start thinking about other opportunities for next summer. Probably here, too.

So many questions. But I keep coming back to that thing I heard this summer: "Don't give up on the international side of you, Darling. I haven't." I'll live and act on that. I know He hasn't forgotten--even if it totally feels like it sometimes.

(Day 22)

Dad

My father is the best man I know.

I’ve been thinking about a phone call from him the other day and I don’t know if he’ll ever know what it means to me.

“I’ve just been missing you, Trace. It just keeps crossing my mind that I’d just give about anything to hop on a plane and just be with you. I would love to just show up, just for the weekend and just…just take you to dinner.”

I smiled. He always calls on FaceTime because he wants to see me, not just hear me.

“And then we could just, I don’t know, hang out. I’ve just really been missing you.”

Healing words for his daughter’s soul. It’s amazing how my dad never gets tired of “pursuing” his daughter. All my life he’s taken the time to be with me and do life with me.

I remember when I was little I was "acting out" one day. I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old. And my dad called me out on what I was doing (something that I was to get used to...).

“Traci, if you need attention you do not do that. You tell me. That is not the way to get attention.”

I remember wondering how he knew that’s why I was doing what I was doing when I didn’t even realize it. But I remember knowing he was right, too. Dad knew everything.

And then I remember putting him to my 6-year-old-little-girl test shortly thereafter. I remember (again, subconsciously) waiting until he was reading or clearly doing something else and crawling up into his lap and taking his face in my two little hands and saying, “Daddy, I need some attention.”

My daddy passed my little girl test with flying colors. He laughed, put everything aside, and played with me. I remember this happening more than once. He never disappointed.

My sisters and I would take turns with my tea set having tea party dates with our dad. That man had 5 children, and somehow managed to have time for all his daughters individually. All of us remember those dates: the dresses, the preparation—Mom helping us with the stressful “menu.” It had to be perfect, of course. As perfect as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches could possibly be.

My father is the one that taught me so many things, but there’s not a day that goes by that the core of me doesn’t recognize that I would not be the woman I am today if not for his willingness to love this strong personality so interminably and sacrificially.

It was my father that took me to task on all of my mouth-running, disrespectful speech all throughout growing up. It was dad that taught me that that my strong personality, really the depth that I was talking about yesterday, is a gift, but a gift to be wielded wisely and to be channeled the right direction by the right Person. I can’t imagine the bulldozing person I’d be today if he hadn't done right by me in teaching where to take my personhood to be molded and shaped (and if he didn’t do some of it himself).

“Traci, do you want to try saying that again?”

“No.” My adolescent attitude would spit out. I mean, he asked the question--to my teenage mind he should have been prepared for the honest answer. “But I will.” (Eye-roll, head cocked, probably arms folded.)

Oh man. I would not have wanted to raise me.

He taught me so many other things too. Everything practical, be it emotionally practical or just logistically practical. Dad made sure I knew how to change the oil in my car. He made me do my own legwork on everything. He taught me how to make the phone call myself, and not expect people to do things for me. He gave the skills I needed to know what it meant to work hard--and that being a girl wasn't an excuse to not learn how to roof, lay carpet, etc. He also didn’t slack on teaching us how to play hard, and remember to live in the moment--when it's right. (Adventure, adventure, adventure.)

But even as a little girl through his constant patient answers to my favorite little supplication: “why, Daddy?” he was teaching me that to always ask the question "why?" is not a bad thing: it is paramount to be well reasoned. Beyond that though, I also began to understand from a young age that the question "why?" doesn't always have a satisfactory answer. And it's a matter of integrity how you handle that reality. More than through just his words my dad showed me that loving God is a lifestyle, not just a choice you make once. And watching my dad read about any and everything (including an entire book on salt--that now I actually kind of want to read) inspired me to NEVER STOP LEARNING.

But eventually, through all of this and more he taught be how to be unselfish, though I still fail so often. It was my father that taught me how to love people: how to pursue them, not just to learn from them, but to invest in them too.

And that is still what he does for me, his daughter. He pursues and loves me so effectively that I can never, never forget. And I thank God I’ll never, never know what kind of woman I’d be without all that he’s put into me all my life.

I really hope he can find a cheap flight one of these days. :)

(Day 21)

Depth

I think it's only been in the last couple months that I've realized that there's a difference between depth and intelligence.

There really is.

Somebody, well, a lot of people this summer asked why I was still single.

What do you say to that? I mean, gracefully?

There was only one person with whom I think I was totally honest. I ended up sounding like an arrogant ass. "I'm always too something. Too old, too spiritual, too deep. But mostly too intelligent."

"You're not modest." They said.

They were right. I was also not correct. I've been thinking about this a lot because it's become so clear to me in the last being around the intellectual caliber that law attracts that depth and intellect are two different things.

I have the depth thing to contend with, not as much the intelligence. I am surrounded by people around me that far surpass me in intelligence. All day, every day.

But that depth. That depth that only gets more and more profound the more I know God. That depth that seems to get more and more difficult but more and more everything I've ever wanted.

Yeah, it's depth.

What is depth? What am I talking about? What does that even mean?

I don't know if I can describe it. But I won't try right now. This one's still brewing.

I just hate that some conversations I can't fix.

(Day 20)

L'Engle

I'm speechless and humbled at having finished Madeleine L'Engle's "Walking on Water." Well, apparently not entirely speechless because here I sit writing...anyway.

Law school has begun again and so I have taken advantage of Labor Day weekend to finish the books that I'd started this summer (and to get a head start on the many readings for my Law in Lit class). Walking on Water has been waiting for me for a couple of weeks.

Madeleine L'Engle is a renowned, prize-winning author that I remember reading and adoring as a child. I read all her A Wrinkle in Time series for they enraptured me when I was young...and now I could not for the life of me tell anyone what the stories were about. Although I do know the word "mitochondria" because of her. I had no idea about her faith.

I was shocked to find that this volume had been written before I was born. I felt as if Madeleine was inside my head, especially when she was talking about service to art. And then when she talked about the relationship that prayer shares with the creative process...I wish I could have had coffee with this woman:

"In prayer, in the creative process, these two parts of ourselves, the mind and the heart, the intellect and the intuition, the conscious and the subconscious mind, stop fighting and collaborate. Theophan the Recluse advised those who came to him for counsel to "pray with the mind in the heart," and surely this is how the artist works. When the mind and the heart work together they know each other as two people woth love each other know' and as the love to the two people is a gift, a totally unmerited, incomprehensible gift. so is the union of the mind and heart."

True art is a prayer, a form of communication with God. I have felt and lived this. I love this soul put on paper and I can only hope that my art and pursuit of it will lead my soul to become as beautifully humble as hers.

Thank you, Madeleine, for your example. Someday, let's talk.

(Day 19)