summers

I stumbled on this hilarious review posted to Amazon for the 500 Days of Summer DVD:

"As frightening as JAWS, MISERY, EXORCIST all rolled into one. Guys, there are only 'Summers' out there. There is no 'Autumn' waiting in the wings for a happy, dream-like ending. Just give up & forget about even trying, if you have any grasp on 21st Century reality, OK?  Good movie, though, i'm totally buying the DVD."

Cynical much?  Although, on certain days, I'm certainly with him.

ice & branches

1. morning windshield, 2. Shred, 3. blue skies, 4. Untitled, 5. •oO.°, 6. Stanislava, 7. Untitled, 8. path, 9. thermalove

Inspired by my day of hoping for snow and being disappointed, hour after hour, here's a small dose of cool photographic goodness.

easy now, camel.

I can't remember the last time a poem moved me to tears.  Possibly never before.

I think sometimes it is only in art that bits of God's beauty and love are able to shine the most truly and purely.  The camel and needle metaphor will never again be the same for me.

Tangentially, this reminded me of the scene in Dawn Treader in which Aslan peels back the dragon layers from Eustace to change him back into a boy at long last.

Luke 18.25
by Karsten Piper

He spread his blanket on the sand,
kneeled and arranged his bowls and tools:
hook, mallet, clamp, chisel, rasp, razor.

His smile glinted in the rongeur’s claws,
and upside down in the curette’s spoon.
Light shone out of the needle’s eye.

“Hoosh,” he said and began plucking hairs,
paring calluses, shearing wool, shaving
to the follicles, cutting to the quick.

He sorted these, trimming skin with skin,
hair with hair, into rows of clay bowls,
and set a large basin to catch each sour drip

as he sliced the hide and used both fists
to yank back the whole stubbled, gray pelt,
as wet and red on its underside as afterbirth.

He piled this heavily away, draping it
in clean linen, and turned to the meat and bone
heaving under sheer, tight membrane.

Sawteeth chewed into femur, rib and shoulder.
Pliers twisted and wrenched away tendons
until everything softened, canted, and collapsed—

yet not one sliver dies. Each ribbon and shard
bawls for the horror and hurt of their missing,
wishing for the old braying wholeness.

Pain bloodies evening and morning,
stabbing day after day from even the first cuts,
like the slow light of far stars.

Eyeballs and heart float alone in the last bowl,
dark and defenseless, quavering when he leans down
and they recognize in his eyes how little is left.

“Easy now, Camel,” he says and lifts me
in his fingertips, one quivering strand at a time,
through the eye of the needle.

a consuming flame

" He stood appalled, judging himself with the thoroughness of God, while the action of mercy covered his pride like a flame and consumed it. He had never thought himself a great sinner before, but he saw now that his true depravity had been hidden from him lest it cause him despair.  He realized that he was forgiven for sins from the beginning of time, when he had conceived in his own heart the sin of Adam, until the present, when he had denied poor Nelson.  He saw that no sin was too monstrous for him to claim as his own, and since God loved in proportion as He forgave, he felt ready at that instant to enter Paradise."

-Flannery O'Connor;  The Artificial Nigger

I've been reading a book of O'Connor's short stories lately with varying degrees of interest and enjoyment.  There is no doubt she is a brilliant writer and well-deserving of her place in this country's literary canon, but nonetheless, her stories make me very sad.  She manages to give birth to characters who exemplify the depravity of man so intensely that it is both exhausting and painful to read their stories.

So earlier this evening I was sitting in the Filling Station, fully prepared to be left saddened yet again by the story, when I came upon those words I just quoted at the end of one story.  "the action of mercy covered his pride like a flame and consumed it."  How incredibly powerful are those words?  Shouldn't that very action be taking place in our hearts?  This bears a great deal more thought.

grey Saturday thoughts

I find myself, unaccountably, with nothing to do for a couple hours today.  This new city life has its innumerable positives, but an aching negative that has weighed on me -- the scarcity of quiet time by myself, being.

Of course this is partly my own fault; being silent in thought, meditation and prayer takes a great deal of discipline that I largely still lack.  How many nagging worries would diminish and come back into proper perspective if I would spend more time dwelling before my Father with them and less consulting the opinions of every close friend?

blue

I can't get this song out of my mind.  Regina performed this at the concert I attended this past Saturday and this song in particular struck me.

~

He stumbled into faith and thought,
"God, this is all there is?"
The pictures in his mind arose,
And began to breathe.
And all the gods and all the worlds
Began colliding on a
Backdrop of
Blue.

Blue lips,
Blue veins.

He took a step, but then felt tired.
He said, "I'll rest a little while."
But when he tried to walk again,
He wasn't a child.
And all the people hurried fast,
Real fast,
And no one ever smiled.

Blue lips,
Blue veins.
Blue,
The color of our planet from far, far away.

He stumbled into faith and thought,
"God, this is all there is?"
The pictures in his mind arose,
And began to breathe.
And no one saw, and no one heard.
They just followed the lead.
The pictures in his mind arose,
And began to breed.

They started out beneath the knowledge tree.
Then they chopped it down to make white picket fences,
And, marching along the railroad tracks,
They smile real wide for the camera lenses.
They made it past the enemy lines
Just to become enslaved in the assembly lines.

Blue lips,
Blue veins.
Blue,
The color of our planet from far, far away.

Blue,
The most human color.
Blue,
The most human color.
Blue,
The most human color...

Blue lips,
Blue veins.
Blue,
The color of our planet from far, far away.

I spent a bit of time looking back through my favorite shots on Flickr this evening.   It's interesting to see the shift of color spectrum and feeling subtly change to reflect the seasons and my mood.

Apparently I've been drawn lately to reds and blues, mushrooms and berries, animals and things made out of yarn, strikingly-revealing self-portraits and pictures of couples...  oh, and collections of things.


1. Untitled, 2. don't go quietly, 3. Untitled, 4. sunday foraging., 5. Tim Roth, 6. Rain, 7. Untitled, 8. Untitled, 9. Untitled

fiercely solitary -- and terribly elegant

Paloma, after meeting Kakuro Ozu for the first time:

"So here is my profound thought for the day: this is the first time I have met someone who seeks out people and who sees beyond. That may seem trivial but I think it is profound all the same. We never look beyond our assumptions and, what's worse, we have given up trying to meet others; we just meet ourselves. We don't recognize each other because other people have become our permanent mirrors. If we actually realized this, if we were to become aware of the fact that we are only ever looking at ourselves in the other person, that we are alone in the wilderness, we would go crazy."

- Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog

Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon.
Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted,
And human love will be seen at its height.
Live in fragments no longer.
Only connect…

– E.M. Forster, Howards End

AP

'and tonight in the light of the gathering rain, I could hear creation groan.

and a sigh rose up from the streets of the city to the foot of heaven's throne.

and the people hear the sound of a sweet refrain -- an absolution in the fray.

it tells of the death of the one for the lives of the many

more than any picket sign could say.'

a haiku

All I want to be,
is someone that makes new things.
And thinks about them.

-John Maeda

comfort in a prayer for mercy

“The Lord reveal himself more and more to us in the face of his Son Jesus Christ and magnify the power of his grace in cherishing those beginnings of grace in the midst of our corruptions, and sanctify the consideration of our own infirmities to humble us, and of his tender mercy to encourage us.

And may he persuade us that, since he has taken us into the covenant of grace, he will not cast us off for those corruptions which, as they grieve his Spirit, so they make us vile in our own eyes.

And because Satan labors to obscure the glory of his mercy and hinder our comfort by discouragements, the Lord add this to the rest of his mercies, that we may not lose any portion of comfort that is laid up for us in Christ.

And, may he grant that the prevailing power of his Spirit in us should be an evidence of the truth of grace begun, and a pledge of final victory, at that time when he will be all in all, in all his, for all eternity. Amen.”

—Richard Sibbes, The Bruised Reed (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1998), 127-28

creating

Working in a lab and doing science-y things all day, I often dream of a creative job, making a living selling things I've made with my hands.  But then I worry that adding a business side to it might ruin the enjoyment I derive from creating beautiful things and just playing around.

Like the time I took voice lessons for a semester in college and that voice teacher sucked all the joy out of singing for me.  Gone.  I had to get out of there, and once I did;  I went back to singing in the car, singing while I do dishes, singing while I putter around the house.

So.  What do I do?

just one more

carbon lily

And now, a little plug for a new singer/piano player I've been enjoying, Jenny Dalton.  I love her voice and her unique melodic progressions.  You can get her music from Amazon at this link.

...and here's one of her remixes.  good running music!

[audio http://www.freewebs.com/queen_of_irony/01 - Three Lilies Vs Peter Aslanidis.mp3]

[awash in hope]

"I don't care if anyone comes for me," said Edward.

"But that's dreadful," said the old doll.  "There's no point in going on if you feel that way.  No point at all.  You must be filled with expectancy.  You must be awash in hope.  You must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next."

"I am done with being loved," Edward told her.  "I'm done with loving.  It's too painful."

"Pish," said the old doll.  "Where is your courage?"

"Somewhere else, I guess," said Edward.

"You disappoint me," she said.  "You disappoint me greatly.  If you have no intention of loving or being loved, then the whole journey is pointless."

["someone will come for you.  But first you must open your heart."]

-Kate DeCamillo,

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

I picked up this children's book about a china rabbit while I hung out in Barnes & Noble the other day.  I've scarce read anything in any book so moving as this passage, near the final pages.  It appears one might have much to learn from dolls and china rabbits.

everything sad is coming untrue

You may or may not notice that edit on the last post; but either way I'll just say this one thing and have done with it:  Writing about emotions on the internet is risky, but writing about unreasonable, confusing, and fleeting crushes is just stupid.  I'm not pining away over anyone.  In fact, I've experienced more joy these past few months since graduation than I could ever deserve.



The last year has been one of the hardest, best, most growing times of my life.  There is still so far to go, but as I look back at all the pain and tears and loneliness I've walked through, I can't help but rejoice that my Heavenly Father allowed the suffering to start making me more like Him.



And with that, I think I'm done talking about it all.  At least in this forum.  I want to write about new life and grace and redemption and creating beauty and the joy found in small things each day.

For now, I'll leave you with these lyrics from Jason Gray's new LP:

In the way the shadows hide
When the sun begins to rise
And in the way the world comes alive
At the first hint of spring
The frozen rivers run
The death of winter comes undone
Whispers of Kingdom Come
While the bluebird sings

Everything
Everything that I thought I knew
Everything
Everything sad is coming untrue

well.

It's much too late and I'm trying to power through a few hundred more stitches on this baby blanket -- I'm knitting it for a friend who had a baby recently and my mom is leaving first thing in the morning to go see her.  I've probably put about 60 hours into this thing already...

I have some cool pictures from the weekend of the Fourth, but it's too late and I'm too tired to mess with Flickr links and HTML right now.  Another day.  We had a great time with my aunt and uncle.  Adam escaped yet another year of firecracker debauchery with only minor burns and zero casualties -- a miracle.  Every year, my dad vows that he won't be allowed any firecrackers the next year.  And then the next 4th of July rolls around and he forgets.  Just like that.

I got the new Derek Webb album this afternoon.  You should probably go buy it if you haven't yet done so -- he continues to outdo himself.  This stuff is the way Christian music should be; gut-wrenchingly honest and beautiful.

I guess the real thing I wanted to say in all of this is as follows:  Sometimes being a woman just sucks.  Especially when one has strong feelings for someone and no idea if he'll ever reciprocate.

sunset and memory

I'm rather inordinately proud of a couple of these shots I got yesterday at sunset.  Dandelion seedheads now remind me of a certain night back at college spent with some of the sweetest girls I know, blowing dandelions in the dark, giggling, and just enjoying that moment.



I'm sorely feeling the lack of community at the moment, though I'm enjoying my family very much.  I miss my church and friends from back there.  Visiting a new church, trying out a new knitting group, and slowly building up new connections here.



I'm not really sure what I'm doing anymore or what this path is supposed to be, the one the Lord has suddenly diverted my life down.  It's lonely, for now, and a bit scary.  But the uncertainty is also rather exciting and certainly the testing of my faith has begun to produce patience, as my Lord promised.

St. Augustine and friends

I visited the lovely little town of St. Augustine, Florida this past weekend for my friend Valerie's wedding.  Val and I have been friends since my freshman year of college and we've been through alot together.

We spent Friday exploring the St. George Street district, downtown -- St. Augustine is the oldest town in America and many of the buildings are hundreds of years old!  That evening, we ate the rehearsal dinner at this charming restaurant right on the water.  Cappucino creme brulee, yum!

The day of the [outdoor] wedding itself was kinda stressful due to the fickle Florida weather.  It started to rain in the early afternoon so everyone was in a holding pattern once the decorations were up and the small number of guests arrived.  At about 5:30, we seized a brief gap in the clouds; shooed everyone outside and started the processional...  The ground was so squashy that the 3 inch heels on my shoes sank all the way in with every step.  Walking on tip-toe down an entire aisle is not a simple feat, believe me.  But we all made it.

I thought the wedding might be really hard for me, especially having to be in it.  And it was in some ways.  But in other ways, it reminded me of how grateful I am for the many blessings the Lord has graciously allowed in my life.  Even if the blessing of a relationship is not currently one of them.

Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Gregg.

[the right words]

I've been absent here a long time;  graduating from college, moving back to Kansas City, finding a job, trying to reconnect.  I'm committing to shoot more pictures, write more words, and to be more faithful about blogging.  Today, the only thing I want to share is this song by Sara Groves.  I first heard it five minutes ago and the words pierced my heart.  After reading the lyrics, you may understand:

Tuxedo in the closet, gold band in a box
Two days from the altar she went and called the whole thing off
What he thought he wanted, what he got instead
Leaves him broken and grateful

I passed understanding a long, long time ago
And the simple home of systems and answers we all know
What I thought I wanted, what I got instead
Leaves me broken and somehow peaceful

I keep wanting you to be fair
But that’s not what you said
I want certain answers to these prayers
But that’s not what you said

When I get to heaven I’m gonna go find Job
I want to ask a few hard questions, I want to know what he knows
About what it is he wanted and what he got instead
How to be broken and faithful

What I thought I wanted
What I thought I wanted
What I thought I wanted
What I thought I wanted

Staring in the water like Aesops foolish dog
I can’t help but reflect on what it was I almost lost
What it I thought I wanted, what I got instead
Leaves me broken and grateful

I’m broken and grateful
I want to be broken and grateful
I want to be broken, peaceful, faithful, grateful, grateful
I want to be broken, peaceful, faithful, grateful, grateful

You can listen to the entire song here. Or buy the CD and support Sara -- I saw her in concert last summer and she's an absolutely lovely person.

personality mosaic

Rules:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search (http://www.flickr.com/).
b. Using ONLY the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Mosaic Maker. Change rows to 3 and columns to 3 (http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php).

The Questions:

1. What is your name?  Sara
2. What is your favorite food?   avocados
3. What is your favorite color? green
4. Favorite drink?  grapefruit juice
5. Dream vacation?  Two weeks in Santorini & the Cyclades
6. Favorite hobby?  knitting
7. What you want to be when you grow up?  wife & mom
8. What’s one thing you call valuable on this earth?  hope
9. One word to describe you?  diverse



1. Sara's orange singlespeed, 2. sexy stark, 3. I had to do it, too...:), 4. fresh vitamins, 5. [imerovigli], 6. Untitled, 7. He had a wife, humble, obedient and quiet and three children, 8. We are choosing hope over fear., 9. Dans la Rue!

on His Resurrection

[I posted this poem back in November, but the words remain more poignant than ever on this Easter Sunday.  See also this wonderful post on the DG blog that reminded me of it.]

Descending Theology: The Resurrection

by Mary Karr

From the far star points of his pinned extremities,
cold inched in—black ice and squid ink—
till the hung flesh was empty.
Lonely in that void even for pain,
he missed his splintered feet,
the human stare buried in his face.
He ached for two hands made of meat
he could reach to the end of.
In the corpse’s core, the stone fist
of his heart began to bang
on the stiff chest’s door, and breath spilled
back into that battered shape. Now

it’s your limbs he comes to fill, as warm water
shatters at birth, rivering every way.

some inspiration

An aggregation of some recent Flickr faves.  How I wish I could capture beauty the way these photographers do...



1. Untitled, 2. Little Shoes, 3. I wish you could smell this, 4. Order and precision, 5. Untitled, 6. Sunlit grass, 7. jane's eye, 8. Untitled, 9. Meditation

Stuff Christians Like: Subtly finding out if you drink beer, too.

This blog post on Stuff Christians Like is just a little too hilarious and spot-on to be overlooked.  Beer-drinking and -appreciating Christians, unite.

[photo credit: my sister]

on creative genius

I just listened to this extraordinary talk by Elizabeth Gilbert at TED 2009 for the second time.  If you have a spare 20 minutes, you will not regret taking the time to listen to it as well -- she is quite funny & articulate and speaks on a fascinating topic, the nature of creativity.

Gilbert gives a whirlwind tour through the history of Western thought on creativity and its origins - from the daemons of the Ancient Greeks to the moment when humanists began ascribing genius to a particular person ('he is a genius' as opposed to 'he has a genius').  She believes that ever since beginning to place the weight of genius upon the shoulders of individuals, the creative community has suffered under this heavy load of responsibility.  Noting the otherworldly power that visits 'works of genius', she argues that genius is not in fact owned by any person, but on loan for a brief time, like a train rushing through a station.

Gilbert expresses her ideas far better than I can.  And she gets in a Harry Potter reference to boot.  Some favorite quotes:

“I am afraid of many things that people don't know about – like seaweed.”

“The meddling capriciousness of the creative process can feel paranormal.”

As the Moors entered Southern Spain, the ovation of “Allah, Allah!” became “Olé, Olé!”

...

Do you not know, have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God

The Creator of the ends of the earth

He will not grow tired or weary

His understanding no one can fathom

He gives strength to the weary

And increases the power of the weak

Even youths grow tired and weary

And young men stumble and fall

But those who hope in the Lord

Will renew their strength

They will soar on wings like eagles

they will run and not get weary

They will walk and not be faint.

on knitting

I found this article today and wanted to share a quote, as I think it sums up very well some of the reasons I enjoy knitting as much as I do.  Not only is it enjoyable creative, it is curiously cathartic.  Read on:

"

One day, it occurred to me to try knitting. It worked! The repetitive motions of my hands were the perfect substitute for the repetitive motions of my body while walking. The knitting kept me busy and centered but freed my mind and heart to dance around whatever issues or problems were currently bothering me. I say "dance around," and not "think about," because while the needles were in my hands, I found that they provided a certain distance between me and the problems of my daily life-even those problems that had seemed so huge, so all-encompassing just hours or minutes before.

I soon learned that this distance gave me more than just a blessed reprieve from worry. As I sat quietly and knit, my mind would slowly calm. Soon, ideas and worries would start to bubble up to the surface one by one, slowly, instead of all together in a furious boil. I found that if I simply acknowledged them and then let them simmer, rather than try to actively concentrate on them, amazing things would happen. Vague hints of solutions would begin to appear in my subconscious. By refusing to think too hard, I could open my mind to all sorts of answers that I would never have considered otherwise.

Most importantly, I would gradually come to a feeling of peace, of hope or anticipation or contentment. My mood after a knitting session is virtually always drastically improved over how I was feeling before I picked up the needles that day. Even when the problems that worried me were essentially out of my control-war, for example-or insoluble, such as grief for the loss of a loved one, after knitting for a while, they would seem less horrible, less terrifying. Quite simply, knitting made me feel better."

-Katherine Welsh, Knitty.com

Curious, but true.  Read the rest of the article if you don't believe me.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I should get back to that sweater I'm knitting...

said Aslan

"...Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face.  What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life.  For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes.  They were such big, bright tears compared to Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.

"My son, my son," said Aslan.  "I know.  Grief is great.  Only you and I in this land know that yet.  Let us be good to one another. "

-C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

as kingfishers catch fire

Sorry [sort of] about the stereotypical song-lyric-post preceding this one.  Sometimes lyrics just describe a situation too perfectly to be ignored.

My pastor preached the entire book of Song of Solomon in one message this morning and it was pretty underwhelming compared to Mark Driscoll.

I struggle against bitterness and fear and loneliness daily.  My dad prayed for me today, that there would be light at the end of this tunnel.  I sit alone and wonder when it will appear.

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is –
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins

song for this week

Where am I today? I wish that I knew,
'Cause looking around there's no sign of you.
I don't remember one jump or one leap--
Just quiet steps away from your lead.

I'm holding my heart out, but clutching it too.
Feeling this short of a love that we once knew.
I'm calling this home when it's not even close,
Playing the role with nerves left exposed.

Standing on a darkened stage
Stumbling through the lines
Others have excuses,
But I have my reasons why.

We get distracted by the dreams of our own
But nobody's happy while feeling alone
And knowing how hard it hurts when we fall
We lean another ladder against the wrong wall

And climb high to the highest rung
To shake fists at the sky
While others have excuses
I have my reasons why

With so much deception
It's hard not to wander away
It's hard not to wander away
It's hard not to wander away

bare branches and ice crystals

I love the snow. And got my wish for a white Christmas this year.

morning

I don't seem to be able to pull together cohesive ideas into a thematic post, no matter how hard I aspire to be one of those bloggers.  I'm just not cut out for it, apparently.

I'm back at school, puttering around the empty apartment and planning my mode of attack for the heaps of cleaning waiting to be done.  At least the pile of dishes tells a happy tale -- of a raucous, back-to-school dinner with good friends and plenty of spaghetti.

I need to get down to the business of finding a job and studying for the GRE this week.  Both of those endeavours could use some prayer.  After that, I'm concentrating on doing alot of reading and knitting and friendship-maintaining this semester.  Having fun with my classes [all electives!].  And slowly letting my Father begin to fill up the hole in my heart.