Here begins my mostly right-brained journaling

enough with words...

Cirque Du Soleil(Alegria) - Hula Hoops

Search for Purple Marshes

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?

Post Mail Friend

One of my 4th grade students, Carol, wrote this brilliant story about friendship and goodbyes. She made it up all on her own! I asked her if she got this idea from another book and she said no. Insightful kid! So I asked if I could share her story with some of my friends...
____________________________________________**

Keith (pronounced Kathe) is a student. She is very brave. And she has many friends. Her best friend is Jane. They always do something together.

(One day) on Sunday night, Jane called Keith, "Keith, I will go to Canada. Now, I'm so exciting!"
"That's great. What else? Nothing? Ok, bye."

That night, Keith couldn't sleep. 'Can I do well without Jane?'

Next day, in school, Jane wasn't there. A month had gone by, but Jane didn't come back. 'I thought Jane was going to Canada for a few weeks!'

The school ended. Keith ran home. The telephone rang. It was Jane. "I'm sorry, Keith. I have to live here forever."

Keith hung up the phone quietly. It was too terrible to Keith. 'What should I do?'

At night Keith only thought and thought and thought. 'All right, let's think.' A few minutes had gone by. 'Right! A vacation! I have vacation tomorrow! Today is Monday.'

But mother said, "You can't, Keith. We don't have money." Yes, that was a problem. Keith had to think more.

Now, she had an idea, a strange idea.

'Can I get into the post mail?'

Why not? Keith could do anything to meet Jane. She decided to do it one Tuesday. She told mother, "I will sleep in someone's house on Wednesday."

Now, it was Tuesday. Keith bought everything she needed. Keith knew that on Tuesday, Mom will send every post. She got inside and wrote, "Jane Sarah, Canada, Green Village 16-26."

Mom was thinking that Keith had gone to her friend's house. It was the perfect chance. Mom said, "Why is this post too heavy?" But because of the paper that said, "Important, easy to break," Mother didn't open it.

Finally the post arrived.

Jane opened it. She was excited but she didn't know why.

"Keith!" "Oh, Jane, I missed you." Jane hurried to take Keith to the room.

"Oh, Keith, how could you?"

"I just thought and thought," she smiled. "I just wanted to say goodbye and give you a present." The present was a beautiful necklace.

"Oh, it's pretty. And...bye, my friend, Keith. I'll send you back home."

Next day, she went home.

"I'm home, Mom!" "I know, I know, what did you do?" "Um...just...play," she smiled.

Weekend with Melissa

Dig

'"I always look at that well there in the plaza. And I think to myself that before, no one knew where there was water. Then Saint Savin decided to dig and found it. If he hadn't done that, this village would be down there by the river."

"But what does that have to do with love?" I asked.

"That well brought many people here, with their hopes and dreams and conflicts. Someone dared to look for water, water was found, and people gathered where it flowed. I think that when we look for love courageously, it reveals itself, and we wind up attracting even more love. If one person really wants us, everyone does. But if we're alone, we become even more alone. Life is strange."'

Excerpt from By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, by Paulo Coelho

School

Our academy moved across the street to a much larger space this past week. Now the rooms are more spacious and sound-proof so we hear less high-pitched chantings of our phonics learners. Right now, we only have an after-school program but things are slowly falling into place and in the next year or so, plans are to establish an independant school for Koreans who want private education in English without leaving the country. This way, families do not have to be separated. We just need grounded teachers to jump-start this dream. I love that I work for an unconventional boss and can be part of teaching and learning that doesn't have to follow all the rules.

There's an opening for a part-time art teaching position at a different international school about 40 minutes from home. If I get the position, I may be teaching art to middle school students. I'd love that but I don't plan to stretch myself too thin...maybe I can go in 2 mornings a week, and get a taste of what it's like to be an art teacher in a school setting.

I love teaching my first-graders story-telling through Cray-pas and water-color. But I'm itching to do more than that...

I never thought I'd be teaching art to children, helping to establish a school, living in Korea, as well as considering settling down here, and loving it, what in the world? As they say, life never happens the way you plan.

Reconnecting

Yong Jun came out for his second vacation leave and it's been a good time so far. Met up with Steve and Rendy last night and reminisced the good old days, been having some good relaxed family time, etc etc. Wish he could stay longer but he leaves tomorrow.


I can't believe that Melissa is flying in to Seoul in just one week. I'm so excited to catch up with her. She asked me what I was craving that she could bring from America. To be honest, I don't really know, except my friends over there. I wish she could fit them all in her suitcase. Actually, I don't miss anything about the US except for these people. Everything else, I have here. I'm quite comfortable life here now, getting around places is easy, nature is all around me even in the middle of the city, I have my own space I can create however I want, I have family, yummy healthy food, a great church, a stimulating job, new friends, etc etc.

Did I just jinx myself by saying all this? Seems to be the pattern as I've seen so far is that I can't ever get too comfortable in one place. Once I do, it's time to leave. Oh well, that's not happening yet so I might as well enjoy it now. I appreciate the adventure that it is to combine all parts of me, years before with what I am now, and what I can look forward to or brace myself for in the future.

Life is an adventure and although I don't have all the people I love near me at all times, it's comforting to know that they still stay a part of me no matter where we are placed in the world. And every once in a while, like with Melissa and Yong Jun, I can see them and enjoy moments with them. And, of course, with those of you I'll see later rather than sooner, there's always cyberspace that keeps us somewhat connected and growing together.

Pirates III

Johnny Depp and insanity: just fabulous. In another life, I'd have chosen a career in Hollywood. I'm in awe with all the artistic talent out there.

Rolling

"They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor." Is. 61.3

I roll under and over. The display is being rolled and on a day when it plants into shape, you and I will see splendor larger than oak. Until then, I choose this season. I will submit to grinding and wetting, it stings, until glory buds from sunshine that will dry what has been cried over, and dusts, fine and gold, will fly to become a "display of his splendor."

We will hope. We will believe. We roll with hope and belief, under and over.

April

I have a new favorite color: yellow green, especially on trees~ I saw them everywhere this weekend and will see it everyday this spring~ for the first time since tenth grade I am living inside four seasons and it couldn't be better timing to illustrate all that's been kneaded inside me~ life, for the past month and a half, has made enough sense for me to love yellow green~ behind or after the dripping sweat, falling beauty, and cold shivers, there always exists this mix of yellow and green which strokes in hope. So an update on life this April:

~Started dance classes (mainly jazz) with a friend from church, going every morning at a ridulously early hour, sore thighs but lovin it.

~Making new friends and ~already saying goodbye to some of those new friends, what else is new in my life, but still trying to soak up every part of it!

~Saw Yong Jun this weekend, he may end up in Iraq or Lebanon in the next few months.

~God is real to me again. I see yellow green because of him.

~Continuing my painting lessons with Grandma and becoming her friend.

~Running again.

~Getting more involved with church

~Still resting and waiting on direction on what to pursue...

~Missing many of you.

Yes, The Year of the Lord's Favor

Isaiah 61:1-4

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

and provide for those who grieve in Zion--
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long
devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for
generations.