Sunday, March 24, 2013

An Honest Reflection - Faith and Doubt

This blog is comprised of some bits that are drawn directly from a journal entry that I wrote at the beginning of the month, some of it is adapted to further explain myself. Most of it will be word-for-word. This is simply an honest reflection of faith in doubt, doubt in faith, and navigating the two when the struggle is all you see and feel.
_________________________

Finally. Finally I can cry. I've tried. I tried watching movies to elicit a good cry, but I still just couldn't muster it up. I think I've been running from feeling anything since I've moved here. Even faith. I haven't felt "close" to God consistently (or even really intermittently) since before graduation.

What's opening me up right now, finally bringing some release, is watching Calvary Chapel's Praise Jam. It reminded me of my faith then and I missed it. The physical space of that church. The people. Mostly the feeling of worshiping in that space.

Man, the pendulum swings. I have had so many different experiences of faith and conceptions of who God is over the years. Youth group, Calvary Chapel, Mission Year, Holy Trinity, South Lawndale, Prayer team, IHOP (Int. House of Prayer), Missio Dei, Reba Place Fellowship, Redeemer Anglican, North Park... Each with their own unique presentation of God and how we live out the faith individually and communally. I hadn't anticipated that with all of that, this is where I'd end up - crippled by fear, confusion, and guilt. I don't know how to reconcile all I have seen and experienced in these places, or if they even can reconcile. I feel like a reed in the wind, blown each way.

Maybe the fact that I have held onto faith through all these experiences is a sign of its strength and tenacity amidst it all, but really... What has remained of my faith from each transition to the next? Has anything been held solid and maintained? I feel like I'm grasping at fine sand. Finally it all falls through and I'm standing here with a clenched fist, and what remains can't build a dwelling - it can't even build a sandcastle. It's all I can do to keep the few grains of sand in the crevices of my clenched fist. All the remaining grains serve to do is to remind me of what I once had.

I'm so afraid. I'm afraid to believe anything about God anymore because my faith has been scarred and become more fragile for believing too much too easily, because at each stage I threw aside all my faith had been built on to discover news ground on which to build. I'm afraid to open my hands in hopes of more for fear that the few grains I have left will slip away.

I'm afraid to even speak of God as though he's more than a principle or concept, not because I don't believe he's more but because I'm afraid to put a stake in who I believe he is if he's more. I'm not afraid of God. I'm afraid of disfiguring him, following something other than him that I think is him and having my soul slowly diminish as I give more and more of myself to something less than or different than God as he truly is. I don't think my faith could survive that again.

I get anxious talking about God. I'm terrified to speak anything and attribute it to God or to his work. I'm not afraid of what God will say or do when I open my hands. I'm still afraid of little old me blindly ravaging my own soul and possibly hurting others in the process by feeding them ideas about God that are false and are more reflective of our broken vision than of his actual character. Any broken ideas I hold onto about God don't actually change God's character, but my perception of his character, making him less and less familiar to me, as though I don't know him and never have.

Like an old memory retrieved after years of non-use is tainted by every experience thereafter and is altered as details are forgotten or misplaced, so I feel with God. Like all I have are memories of God that have been twisted, changed, and disfigured as a result of all the experiences and ideas I have gained over the years. Some are right, some are wrong. Some are beneficial and some are destructive. I no longer know how to sift which is which. Or how to separate ideas that were good but have become destructive over time by misapplication or misunderstanding.

I could ask God how to sift. I could pray for greater understanding. In the end I still only hear God through this vessel, through myself, my interpretations. And my interpretations can't be trusted because I'll always be interpreting through the lenses of my experiences.

When it comes down to it, I have two choices. I can stay in this place, perfectly preserved, my cramped hand holding to the few grains of sand I have left. Perfectly preserved in what I hold onto. Perfectly preserved in this fear, this yearning for more with the certainty of remaining "as is". Or I could risk it all, again. I could risk unimaginable damage to my faith that could reduce me to less than I imagined possible, with the possibility that perhaps I might experience restoration, whatever that holds. I want to take that risk.

God, this is what I've got. If any of it is useable, will you use it to build something new? Something whole that integrates who you've revealed yourself to be in truth?

If you could feed 5,000 with a few fish and loaves, if you could keep a widow's jar of sustenance from running empty, if you could provide manna in a barren land, couldn't you build a dwelling from these grains and the ones that I have foolishly let slip between my fingers?

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

I am Belle. Supposedly.

This is such a departure from my typical blogs, but I've decided to blog about whatever stands at to me as it does. And in this exact moment, it's Disney. Disney princesses, nonetheless.

I know Disney has received a lot of flack for portraying women being helpless without a man (Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella). I have read studies about their body types and the effect that their physical perfection has on young girls. I get all of that.

My focus in this blog is very different. It is gender-related for sure, but it takes a very different view.

When I was a kid, I went to see Pocahontas in theaters. The soundtrack to Pocahontas was the very first CD I remember owning. I loved it. I had a Jasmine T-shirt that I loved. It was my favorite T-shirt as a kid. It was a sort of tie-dyed pink and purple with sparkles. Jasmine was on it in her green silky outfit holding a bird close to her. My mom reminds me that I loved Beauty and the Beast when I was a kid. I watched it constantly for a while. I remember very clearly watching it with my Uncle (he brother) when I was very, very young. I remember that scary scene when the Beast is on the roof and being glad that my uncle was there to watch it with me at my grandma's house. One of the two Disney songs I connect with the absolute most belongs to Ariel though, in "Part of Your World".

By far, these were my favorite Disney princesses. Pocahontas, Belle, Jasmine, and Ariel. Had I watched Disney cartoons much longer, I am quite certain Mulan would have been up there too. As it is, I haven't seen it all the way through.

Why these four? What is the same about them? What distinguishes them from one another and from the ones I don't like as much? What admirable qualities do each possess? Do any of them possess any qualities that aren't as admirable?

Jasmine. Jasmine might have been my favorite princess for years. She had a subtle compassionate nature. Like all Disney princesses, she loved animals. She cared for her pet Tiger and some random birds. She liked Aladdin's monkey, though the feelings weren't initially returned. 

She had a boldness that she asserted quite intentionally often. She didn't trust easily. She sought freedom. She desired to turn her back on her privilege. She was acutely aware of her sexuality. She was very independent.

Pocahontas. Probably my second favorite princess at the time. Perhaps my ultimate favorite now. Again, she had a strong connection with animals. She took it further though, feeling a kinmanship with all nature, which rang true for her culture. Though she was wise and independent, she was humble and was subtle and perhaps even more thoughtful in how she undermined false perceptions. She was the boldest when she stood up against the wrongs of her own culture. She also didn't sit as a victim when her own culture was under threat.

She was both gentle and stern. She was sacrificial and she challenged people in love. She chose loyalty and commitment to her people over the immediate gratification of love at the end of the movie when she would have accompanied John Smith. She has the most qualities I would like to emulate.

Belle. I connected with Belle a lot because of her fearlessness. Or, not so much fearlessness, but for her courage. I don't think she intended to challenge societal structures as much as she did. She did so by being herself, but "herself" didn't fit in well with those norms at all. I admired her for reading and seeking intellectual pursuits. I admired her for standing up for her father when everyone in her town demeaned him. I admired her for not letting herself be reduced to a man's simple pleasure. I admired her for being disgusted with Gaston's antics when all the other women swooned.

Of all the princesses, Belle was the *most* sacrificial. Unlike the early Disney movies where the men were sacrificial, Belle was a woman who sacrificed herself for not one, but two men - her father and the beast, her love. She looked beneath the surface of what could immediately be seen. She chose a life, which she assumed would be doomed for the sake of her father. And she allowed her perspective to change. She easily could have hated the beast forever and actually accepted a doomed life. But her openness allowed her to see things in a new way and transform her surroundings by being an agent of change.

I didn't watch this movie a lot as I got older. Some of the scenes and emotions were too intense. These days, Belle might give Pocahontas a run for her money in terms of qualities. They are both very high up there.

Ariel. Oh Ariel. What shall we do with you? Ariel is a strange one. I like her and I am annoyed by her. Her disrespect to her father is not so noble as Pocahontas's gentle but stern approach to her father. Ariel isn't challenging a way of life that is wrong. Nothing's *wrong* with her life or her culture. I appreciate her though for trying to extend the vision of those around her. She sees a world that no one else sees and maybe in a way belonged to that world from the beginning. I, too, have felt that the world I'm a part of isn't the world I was born into. Which makes me an easy candidate for buying into the Kingdom that Jesus spoke of. A world that could be here and is kinda in reach, but only in an obscured way.

Ariel annoyed me because she foolishly made a deal with Ursula. She gave up that which she was gifted with. I have fought all my life to be heard. Nothing makes me feel more belittled in life than to feel that people don't hear me, or don't care to hear me. I know I have things of value to say. I don't say that arrogantly. I just know I have ideas and feelings that need to be heard. Not being heard is the biggest insult to the essence of my character. I resent Ariel for trading her voice for legs when she had so many things of value to say. Like Ariel, I have a little "room" in my mind with all these ideals stored away. It is a room of longings unfulfilled for a world that can only be seen in part in my world. I so relate to her song in that little room. It is the very song that inspired this blog, as I began to cry when I watched it on youtube.

I disagree with her approach. She's more cynical and disagreeable. She's unwise in her hastiness. She clings to independence until she feels threatened, then she clings to the nearest thing to provide security. I don't like the way she dealt with what she felt, but I understand her feelings deeply.


These are fictional characters. Except for Jasmine, each of these women are the stars of the movies they are in. I am so, so pleased that cartoon women, despite their physical perfections, have been represented as pillars of strength. Their compassion has been celebrated as strengths rather than being used as signals of the "weaker sex". They are characters that I easily relate to.

I write all of this as a defense of them. Revisiting these songs and these characters has helped me to revisit my own character and the development thereof, since these characters informed my development as a child. It's no wonder that I turned out to be a sort of feminist when even cartoons presented me with this view of women. I know that if I wasn't such an introspective person, especially as a child, these movies could have been harmful to my self-image, as several psych studies confirm. But being who I am, the characters in these movies give me a model of qualities to aspire to, and maladaptive ways of coping that I actively wish to avoid.

I have taken multiple "Which Disney Princess are you?" quizzes. Other than one that put me as Cinderella (*gag*), the one that has popped up the most consistently is Belle, and I am elated. I think I prefer the movie Pocahontas, but these days, I admire Belle's character the most.


I can't decide if this blog is supremely silly and pointless or if it's interesting and fun. But it's been fun to write. I'm not a very "princessy" person. I've not been one to idealize Disney princesses (before this blog anyway). I actively disliked the color pink until I was in college. I often wear a Rosie the Riveter necklace. But this struck me and I wanted to write about it. So here it is, for your reading pleasure.

What do you think about the way women have been portrayed in these Disney movies? Which character are you the most drawn to? Which do you most want to be like? What are your thoughts on anything I have touched on here? Comment and share your thoughts!

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Learning Love through [Inter?]Dependence.

One rap song I used to love in high school was the song "Independent" by Lil' Boosie and Lil' Phat. Like a number of songs that came out while I was in high school, it decided to make spelling an active part of the song by spelling out the word independent in the lyrics.

I liked it because it was a song that was all about women being independent and that being an attractive quality. One of the qualities I hold dear to me is independence. It makes me anxious because I truly believe that interdependence is the ideal in the Kingdom of God. But I sure like my independence. I'm beginning to learn that independence is a quality that I can embrace, so long as I don't use it at the exclusion of the Kingdom. One of my dearest friends told me point-blank that I was probably the most independent person he knew. He clarified that it wasn't in a bad way, but that it was true in his experience and that he meant it.

I'm beginning to realize that the theme in my life right now, the theme that has been building up but has come to an ultimate head in the past few weeks, is the theme of dependence or interdependence. Moreso, learning how to be trusting enough to rely on interdependence in times of need, where the balance of give and take is not equal (is it ever?).

Looking at where I am now and how I've gotten here, I realized that it has been the result of others lifting me up. Every single aspect of my present life. Living situation, job, support in my job, the car I am driving, etc.

The most recent thing that has revealed this to me is all that has resulted from a mishap with my car. Long story short, my car stopped working properly while I was a good two hours from home on a mini-road trip.Someone close made all the arrangements so that I would be taken care of immediately. Then I was at the mercy of the two-truck driver named Tony. He had just finished his work for the day when he received the call about me. He happened to be in the area and knew that no one would be willing to take me 1.5 - 2 hours back to where I was trying to go.

Not only did he agree to take me, but at some point he asked me if he could stop at a gas station to buy a drink. I replied, "For sure. I'm actually going to get something too if we stop." When I picked up a Vitamin Water and set it on the counter to pay, he put his stuff on the counter too, looked at me and said, "I got it."

Since my car has been in the shop, I have had to rely on folks for rides constantly. I am currently driving a car that a friend lent me for the time-being. Friends have offered me a place to stay, recommended me for jobs (a few have even hired me for various odd jobs), supported me at my jobs, shared their event tickets, cooked for me, hosted me, paid for me, provided me with transportation, lent me clothes that were needed for specific occasions, and have walked with me where I am.

I began truly learning interdependence in Mission Year. I learned it in a different way in college. But now, in the stage of life I am in and in the place I am in... This is the first time that I have felt like I have nothing to give back. I may provide laughter and smiles and company at times. But I know without a shadow of a doubt that I have been given more than I am currently capable of giving any of them.

This has always been a difficult position for me. But rather than convincing myself that I am leeching off of people and that if  were a better person I'd be more independent and doing more for them, I am accepting this as my life right now. I know that I am being shown love and mercy and that the appropriate response is love and gratitude, not guilt and stress. My time to give more will come, but for now I'm on the receiving end of an outpouring of love. And all of these people have made it easier than I could have imagined to simply accept it.

They have helped me to understand Jesus a little better. They have helped me to be more accepting of His love. I can accept it regardless of my worthiness, regardless of my efforts, regardless of all of it. Why on earth would I bathe in guilt and stress, self-demeaning thoughts and hopelessness, when I could simply accept what I am being given and find even greater hope and joy in that?

Thank you. Thank you family. Thank you friends. Thank you all. I thank God for you and I thank God for his love for me and you have expressed his love to me so clearly.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Seeing Art in a New Light

As some of you know, I have a job now that allows me to create paintings and to teach others to replicate them. Along with that, I have also been doing some works for friends of mine (on commission and once in a while as a gift).

What fascinates me most about art is how art pieces develop as a sort of conversation between you as the artist, and your materials. The materials you work with have their own rules and their own ways of working. Sometimes as you paint, elements aren't consistent. Sometimes you can't mix the exact shade you had before, sometimes your brush is wet still and the paint applies thinly. Sometimes you are working with multiple brands (and qualities) of paint.

I have come to discover that no art piece turns out the way I envision it in my head. It used to bother me because I always thought what I had created was worse than the beautiful image I imagined. After several years, I began to see that sometimes I created pieces better than I imagined them being and sometimes worse.

I am finally coming around to recognize that to compare the two is demeaning to the piece you created, to yourself as an artist, and to the creative process as a whole. What the creative process delivers is an art piece that is fully of meaning, intentional and unintentional, conscious and subconscious. What I imagine in my head doesn't ever involve me. I'm not necessary to the process. I like to take a backseat - I don't like to assert myself into my works for the most part. For the longest time, I thought my art could only be good so far as I was completely distanced from what I was creating.

Now I realize that art is art because of the artist. I still don't sign my works. I still don't want a name embedded in my works. I'm happy to get recognition for my work, but I want my art to stand on its own, acknowledging me with a nod or with a deep connection, but no longer subsisting off of me and my name.

I was thinking today about how the relationship of artist to their artworks are like the relationship of parent to children.

Sometimes I look at my art, the way it communicates ideas and what ideas is conveys, either intentionally or unintentionally. It reflects me, but is beyond me. It contains elements of me, but it reaches for something else and contains other elements that I don't possess. Sometimes my art pieces say things that embarrass me. Sometimes they say things that I am astounded they can say, because they are things I've never said before. Sometimes I have to take a second, longer look and wonder, "Is this element a reflection of me or is this reflecting something different?" Sometimes I have ideas of what I think it should say. I have goals and hopes for its purpose. But in the end, it's going to be what it's going to be. And even as I form it, it also forms me.

For example, I just finished a painting called "Easter Sunday". It is a pastel sunrise over rolling hills with a big white church built atop of it. As I was creating it, different things stood out to me.

1. Admittedly, I made this piece because I think it will sell well as an idea. I had no inclination to paint a church and to paint in pastel colors. I had no inclination to paint cartoonishly bright rolling hills. Easter is one of my least favorite holidays. I enjoyed making the painting, but I would not have made this painting for any other reason (at least not at this point in my life).

2. The sky was the most beautiful part of the painting.

3. The church was the most time consuming. I took the most care with it, using varying brush sizes, painting multiple coats of white to make sure none of the sky shone through beneath the church.

4. The hills were exceedingly bright and childish.

________

Given these details, two different interpretations of what I created began to emerge in my mind.

1. This was a childlike view of Easter - exaggerated colors and styles. Innocent. The backdrop existed only to showcase the beautiful church, which took the most amount of time. 

2. This was a critical view of every aspect of the set-up. The most beautiful thing, the sky, took the least amount of effort and it was hidden/obscured by a church. The church was meant to be the centerpiece, but it asserted itself there boldly and distinctly as the sky, the beautiful sky was reduced to a supporting role.

It began in my head as the first interpretation. But I realized that I didn't buy into it. The image I wanted to create was one that would sell. Because I was playing to an idea that I had no draw to to begin with, it turned into satire.

What gave it away? The hills. They were a bright, commercialized Easter green color. Like the color of the plastic grass that people put in Easter baskets. It looked plastic. It looked so  and empty against the complexity of the sky. It all felt so manufactured, created to elicit feelings which I myself didn't feel.

The painting spoke to me, showing me my own cynicism in regard to a "manufactured church", commercialization and consumerism, and the value of a "pretty picture". At that point I responded to what my painting was telling me. It felt disingenuous to begin with, but it wasn't too late to express truth.

I took the image more seriously. I put in more details to the church. The windows were no longer left as black gaping shapes. They were given lines for the window-frames. The roofing was given more texture. It was still no match for the sky, but it was no longer standing as its own satirical representation of a church.

The hills. The last thing I did was to fix the hills. At first I intended to cover up that plastic green altogether. But upon second thought, I wanted that story, that dialogue, and the gradual revelation of truth to be present. I painted a darker, shaded-looking grass color, leaving that bright green on the sides of the hill that the sunlight would reach. I mixed an even darker green and filled in the darkest areas.

And the painting was done. Does it look manufactured now? To me, yes, it does. But it is honest. It no longer mocks the fact that this is the case. It takes itself seriously. It may still have the manufactured appearance, but it's meaning is fuller than that now as a result of the dialogue I had with it. It even looks more beautiful and appealing than it did before. And now it poses questions that it didn't before.

Maybe no one else would see those things if not for this blog. But I do, and that's enough for me. Again, I am formed as I form my work. And had I only been wishing to paint what I envisioned, if I removed myself from the work entirely (if it were even possible), it wouldn't achieve the depth it now has and/or have the effect is has had on me.

Anyway, just an introduction to my world. I know this makes me sound crazy, but I'm okay with that. I'm an INFJ. Everything we see has worlds of meaning. It's the only way I know, and I hope my art, this blog, and my interactions with others are the better for it.