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Madeleine L'engle, Walking on Water, pg 24

When the artist is truly the servant of the work, the work is better than the artist; Shakespeare knew how to listen to his work, and so he often wrote better than he could write; Bach composed more deeply, more truly than he knew; Rembrandt's brush put more of the human spirit on canvas than Rembrandt could comprehend.

When the work takes over, then the artist is enabled to get out of the way, not to interfere. When the work takes over, then the artist listens.

But before he can listen, paradoxically, he must work. Getting out of the way and listening is not something that comes easily, either in art or in prayer.

Before I can listen to God in prayer, I must fumble through the prayers of words, of willful demands, the prayers of childish "Gimmes", of "Help mes," of "I want...." Until I tell God what I want, I have no way of knowing whether or not I truly want it. Unless I ask God for something, I do not know whether or not it is something for which I ought to ask, and I cannot add, "But if this is not your will for me, then your will is what I want, not mine." The prayers of words cannot be eliminated. And I must pray them daily, whether I feel like praying or not. Otherwise, when God has something to say to me, I will not know how to listen. Until I have worked through self, I will not be enabled to get out of the way.

Someone wrote, "The prinicipal part of faith is patience," and this applies, too, to art of all disciplines. We must work every day, whether we feel like it or not, otherwise when it comes time to get out of the way and listen to the work, we will not be able to heed it.

Mrs. Gleason, I Love Technology, too!

As Katie said today, "I love technology..." As much as I hate how numb-headed it can make me sometimes, where I then resolve to myspace/facebook/cyworld fasting because I find myself plastered to the screen, browsing through pictures and comments and junk for hours on end, I still love that technology allows me to talk on SKYPE.COM to my friends who are far far away, as I did today with Katie, and as I did on Sunday with Ruth. I love run-on sentences, too.

Maybe one day we will all live in this one village where our kids will be running around eating each others' cookies and painting each others' faces. Maybe. Man, that would be marvelous. Gabe, Nicole's baby, would marry one of my daughters and make beautiful bronzed babies. And we mommas/grannies would be fit and trim because we'd go for runs and marathons together. We'd make a large home for children who needed a safe place to paint, sing, write, and be loved on, and we'd do this together. There would be none of this gnawing missing feeling...we'd be building our lives together as we had once tried to seal with a seemingly stabilizing pact.

Well, life happens as it happens. And here we are, some still single, some still in school, some newlywed, some sick, some well, some thriving, separating, thinking, child-rearing, etc etc. All the people that I wish were near me today seem to be scattered all over everywhere, living lives that we all have to live and commit to for now. And I'd say it's a dung-like, shitty place to be sometimes, but I know that for now, it's also the kind of lives we must live and be faithful to. I do believe, as I know my favorite people believe, that one day these dreams of community can and will be ones we'll dream of while still awake, but for now, this'll do. And technology is our toy to play with, together.

But I gotta lay off on the numbing hours in front of this iBook (aka, laptop), for I have some projects to get to...

Starting from September, I will be working part-time in order to have extra time and energy to work on some projects that have been flipping around in my head and heart for quite a while now. I have no idea how long it'll take to complete, nor can I confidently say that it will ever really be completed, but I know I've made the right decision for myself to begin transferring these pieces of me into art forms. There are voices still giving me doubts about whether it is the wisest decision for me to do this now, but I have to listen to what my heart is saying because I've been shutting it up for a long time and I feel like I'm not living the truth. So here begin my adventures and I know this can't be done on my own.

So I pray and I pray. God, will you help me tell your truth. Of who you are, through what you've done in me, what you've done in those closest to me, what you've done in all parts of the world, all that you do now, and every single promise you will keep. Let me tell your story through the story you've given to me. Bare. As is.

Marry Teacher

I have a class of third graders who sometimes call me "Gyul-hohn Teacher" which is Korean for "Marriage Teacher." They normally call me Mary Teacher, my English name, but they like to think they're brilliant by reminding me not to become an old maid.

One of these third grade students, Sarah, had a dream about me and she told it to the class today. It was filled with details and colors, I loved it. I'll try to recite it as close to how she told it...

During class one day I told all the kids that I was feeling really sick and had to go home. So I asked if Sarah would take me home. At my apartment, I put on a white wedding dress and veil and handed her an invitation that said, "Mary will marry, will you come to my wedding?" Then I kept making comments about how beautiful I looked.

So we got into a car that was decorated with balloons and drove to the wedding hall where the groom was waiting. He was chanting, "Mary, Mary, Mary...!!..." dressed in a red suit and yellow tie with "Mary Mary Mary Mary" written all over it in blue print. A co-teacher later figured out he might have been Ronald McDonald.

The person marrying us did the exchange of vows. He asked McDonald if he would take me as his wife and love me forever and Mac's response was, "I don't know." Then I was asked if I would take Mac and love him forever. I said, "um...maybe, maybe, maybe." Apparently, I always say that to my students, um maybe. I just kept saying how beautiful I was. Then I ran away, into the car, with Sarah. Mac ran after me, jumped on top of the car to make me laugh, landing on a balloon and popping it.

Then somehow we ended up back in the classroom but this time I was still in my wedding dress, veil, and holding a bouquet in front of me. I announced to the class, "Tomorrow, I'm getting married. Will you come?" And the kids all asked me if I would say yes to the question this time, and I just kept chanting, "Maybe, maybe, maybe." I then mentioned how beautiful I looked.

What a dream. I don't think I've ever really talked about my love life, sick days, or beauty with them before. Anyway, the entire class was laughing. Then I asked her if the man was handsome and she said he was cross-eyed and was wearing large-rimmed red glasses, under a mass of puffy hair. He also had a large hoop earring in one ear, and a small heart-shaped stud in the other. And he just kept chanting, "Mary, Mary, Mary," with this marching gesture with the arms.

Later, she told me that when she told her mom about the dream, her mom said that maybe I was going to get married this year. I asked Sarah how it made her feel when she found out I was going to get married in her dream. Children are so honest. She said it made her feel sad because it could mean that I wouldn't teach her anymore. How precious is that? But how real too...and I realized then that her dream was significant for me to hear as it reminds me that my singleness is precious. It's true, if I were getting married now, I may not be able to stay with them.

I'm like most single 24 year-olds, wishing for a soulmate, but I think for now, I'm okay with the maybe's. Sarah's dream was an insightful one, showing me that I have her and the other kiddies to love and enjoy for now. And maybe McDonald will show up sooner or later, but it's going to be okay without him right now. I do have a feeling he's out there somewhere, but maybe it's just not timing for me to meet him yet because I have a lot more to love in myself and to love in others. Plus, it may not be timing for him either, as he might have to tone down the colors a tad. Although, I must say, he sounded pretty hot to me.

Anyway, I'm glad I'm Beautiful Marry Teacher to my loves.

Life

To live a simple and deep life, that's my aspiration.

LISTEN, self.

I'm back to myself again. It's a fabulous place to be, freedom and fear somehow weaving. But I need prayer for less nights staring up at the ceiling, and prayer, instead, that I'd use all my senses to make out what's actually on that ceiling.

I cut down my full-time working hours to go after my dream...

"Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES.
Then listen close to me -
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be."

Shel Silverstein (1974)

The rains and balloons can kiss.

A good friend sent me this excerpt from Henry Nouwen's book Out of Solitude:

Jn 16:16 "In a short time you will no longer see me, and then a short time later you will see me again...You are sad now, but...your hearts will be full of joy, and that joy no one shall take from you."

"Our life is a short time in expectation, a time in which sadness and joy kiss each other at every moment. There is a quality of sadness that pervades all the moments of our life. It seems that there is no such thing as clear-cut pure joy, but that even in the most happy moments of our existence we sense a tinge of sadness. In every satisfaction there is an awareness of its limitations. In every success, there is the fear of jealousy. Behind every smile, there is a tear. In every embrace, there is loneliness. In every friendship, distance. And in all forms of light, there is the knowledge of surrounding darkness. Joy and sadness are as close to each other as the splendid colored leaves of a New England fall to the soberness of the barren trees. When you touch the hand of a returning friend, you already know that he will have to leave you again. When you are moved by the quiet vastness of a sun-covered ocean, you miss the friend who cannot see the same. Joy and sadness are born at the same time, both arising from such deep places in your heart that you can't find words to capture your complete emotions. But this intimate experience in which every bit of life is touched by a bit of death can point us beyond the limits of our existence. It can do so by making us look forward in expectation to the day when our hearts will be filled with perfect joy, a joy that no one shall take away from us." (51-53)

Brandi Carlile-The Story

like siran wrap

Imagine if I wrote like I had no skin, in other words, brutally honestly, wow, wouldn't this be a much more interesting blog?