Thursday, December 31, 2009

It's that time again ...

I used to hate New Year's. In addition to the outrageous price hikes and getting trampled by the masses vying for your spot in the bar, restaurant or parking lot, it all seemed so forced to decide because the calendar was on this day instead of that day that we were going to decide collectively to improve ourselves. That being said, I'm no fan of St. Valentine's Day for the same reason. The commercial underpinnings and emotional manipulation of consumers makes my stomach turn, but more importantly, the celebration of love and our loved ones should be an intentional *daily* -- not yearly -- act. The world would be a better place if we kept that as a focus.

My dislike for Valentine's Day remains, but my feelings for New Year's have changed. I now see the merit in setting aside time to reflect and resolve to be better. It's far too easy to let each day melt into the next and let inertia root us in the status quo. Setting aside time at regular intervals -- even if it is 365 days -- to pause and hold oneself accountable is a healthy habit that I am sorry I ever criticized. It may be true that most of us fall away from our resolutions temporarily or permanently during the year; but the fact that we don't succeed at a perfect record shouldn't negate the value of the effort and the worthiness of the cause. For that reason, this year I have decided to have New Year's every day: that is, to reflect nightly on what I did right, what I did wrong and what I could do better tomorrow. I've been doing it for the last couple of evenings and noticed a marked improvement in the amount of awareness I bring to each day, the baby steps in growth and the feeling of being more alive. In this way, too, the bite-sized efforts to grow daily allow me to focus on those other habits I might have made a vague resolution to change but felt overwhelmed or unsure of where to start. The structure is the vehicle for change.

Existential crisis -- sort of

"It might be a quarter-life crisis, just a stirrin' in my soul / Either way I wonder sometimes about a still verdict-less life" (John Mayer)

As I look ahead to the new year and the path I'd like to pave for myself, the one thing I know is that I am still committed to fighting injustice, pushing myself to use the blessings God's given me to do that, and to improving our world.

The uncertainty sets in when I look at the various models I can apply to bring about those changes. Do I use the "mightier" pen to report reality and open the door for others to reform broken systems? Do I dive into crafting storylines to move, console and challenge people with plots and characters? OR do I roll up my sleeves and individually help them one by one? Which scenario better fits my skill set and dreams? The artistic freedom to create but remain at an arm's length from problem-solving, or the gratification of being centrally involved in the process of reform but sacrificing the time to write creatively?

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Bite-sized inspiration

"The world is full of suffering.
It is also full of overcoming it."

--Helen Keller

Friday, December 25, 2009

No room in the inn

A stable would certainly be the last place in the world where one would look for [the Son of God]. The lesson is: divinity is always where you least expect to find it. So the Son of God-Made-Man is invited into his own world through a back door.

--Fulton J. Sheen

Saturday, December 19, 2009

God among us

It must have come as a relief to a pair of overwhelmed parents when their child, Jesus, was born as just a baby. The uncertainty leading up to his birth must have been already much to deal with, and likely included wondering if they were up to the task; if there was anything they could teach him at all or if he would so obviously be God from His first moments on Earth.

It must have come as a shock to a power-hungry ruler when the Messiah he so feared came cloaked in the humblest of forms. Nowhere is it so evident that God is the champion of underdogs as the Christmas story. The nativity is an eye-opening, soul-wrenching glimpse into the psychology of our King. He does not operate as we would (thank goodness); He has no need for flash and fear. He possesses infinite might and His power does not depend on winning over the proud. The ordinary is His vehicle for deliverance and change. Oh sure, His strength stretches beyond 'the ordinary' and cannot be boxed into a label. But often His will is enacted under the radar simply because the humble carry it out. No trumpets sound. No cameras flash. No ceremony takes place. The seeds are planted in the quietest ways. In the least expected places. And the results catch the world by surprise.

Bite-sized inspiration(s)

Some favorite quotations about art:

Any great work of art... revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world - the extent to which it invites you in and lets you breathe its strange, special air. --leonard bernstein


Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one. --stella adler

All art requires courage. --anne tucker


Everything in creation has its appointed painter or poet and remains in bondage like the princess in the fairy tale 'til its appropriate liberator comes to set it free. --ralph waldo emerson

Art is the stored honey of the human soul, gathered on the wings of misery and travail. --theodore dreiser

Art is when you hear a knocking from your soul -- and you answer. --star riches

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Detour to Truth

I've struggled this season with letting the joy in. I had difficulty reconciling the airbrushed reality of Christmas carols with the headlines I face each day -- 112 murdered in an instant in Iraq; the vulnerable dying on our streets under our noses. "Peace on Earth," "Goodwill to men" rang hollow to me, as if we've allowed ourselves all a few weeks of denial.

I began to pray, but the words were heavy and clung to my tongue. They felt irritatingly earthbound, unable to defy gravity as I looked up to Heaven frustrated by the perceived distance between my once-faithful heart and God. I asked Him to help me truly "get" the season, to take a detour around the distractions and arrive at the meaning.

My prayer was answered. While reading Advent reflections by Fulton Sheen, I found this: "If there is no peace in the world today, it is not because Christ did not come; it is because we did not let Him in." Twenty hours later, I was driving home from work covered in goosebumps, hearing this song for the first time.



From the haunting piano, string and choral parts to the masterfully written lyrics, the song captivated me. Here was a Christmas song that sprang from zeitgeist, resonating with my struggling soul, but comes to encouraging conclusions. The heavy lifting has been done already. Christ came in the least intimidating form possible: an infant, swaddled in humility, completely dependent upon a human mother. God began His time on earth the way we all do. He came, saw our reality with human eyes (and a divine heart) and then conquered death with incomprehensible love. If there's two things we can take away from this, they're (a) we are so loved, and (b) the awesome power beneath the surface of our fragile lives.

Christmas is not about slipping into denial, but rather awakening to the potential packed into each individual and our ability to impact the world around us. "You must be the change you wish to see in the world," Gandhi said. I don't have the power to deactivate a suicide bomber's vest or to feed and warm every homeless person around the world. But I do have the ability to choose how I react to the people surrounding me and to be loving even in the moments that try my patience.

I've learned that Christmas is about the power of presence (over presents). The thing that has meant the most to me as a growing believer in Christ is the fact that He came in the first place. Any struggle I bring to Him is not a distant reality, but one that He understands with a divine heart and has seen with human eyes. It is up to us to hear the bells ringing and the hopeful message He's brought, and also, to carry that tune to the rest of the world -- whether that be a smile, listening to someone who's hurting, offering our time to serve someone, or speaking truth when someone needs to hear it. Unwrapping this season's trimmings reveals what's inside the box and presents this surprise: Christmas is a time to comfort us, but also to challenge us out of complacency and cowardice. It is up to us to shape the world we live in. To hang back and lose hope because we cannot solve every problem creates a vacuum, leaving space for evil to gain ground. We must beat back daily the decay of our hearts and our society by being that change we wish to see in the world and being content that "I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do." (Helen Keller)

Monday, December 7, 2009

I want chicken, I want liver ...

If I had a piano, and if I fed my kitty "Meow Mix," I could definitely see her doing this.



Along the same lines, we finally know what cats do when left to their own devices.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

It's been awhile...

I fell off the blog bandwagon and am caught by surprise when I see the date of my last post. What have I been up to? Searching for new streams of inspiration, infiltrating life as it plays out on the street, and drafting my dreams. I'm suffering from blog-backlog syndrome: having thought of -- but not yet written -- several ideas and not knowing where to begin; sifting through unfinished threads of thought; breaking past the filter I've let hamper the creative process.

I think it's an inevitable part of artistic growth to ride the ebbs and flows of creativity. You take in your surroundings, you let those impressions marinate, and then you produce something new using that experience and insight. I've been challenged a lot in recent weeks for reasons explored and not explored in this space. What I know is this: I see with newly critical eyes assumptions that have carried me into adulthood, that were formed in the unspoken moments in childhood and ultimately shape one's worldview. It's an exciting and vulnerable adventure to dig up and deconstruct or keep these beliefs. I've learned how much we are environmental sponges, and yet, also, how we have the freedom to reinvent ourselves with self-awareness and discipline. My way is this right now: Discern the unspoken attitudes harbored in the heart, analyze where those might come from, decide if they are worth keeping, and then act on that judgment.

Be bold and honest, and the rewards of a more intentional life will push you to new heights.