tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50505628874563172192024-03-13T06:14:53.952-04:00Tang-A-Rang<center>Drink of the joy that is life, whether it be yours or mine.<br>I write for the purpose of sharing life together and contemplating together.</center>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-37949711204267513352014-03-02T20:48:00.003-05:002014-03-02T20:58:55.468-05:00A Circle Is Round, It Has No End<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You know that old children's song?</span></div>
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a0/Circle_-_black_simple.svg/220px-Circle_-_black_simple.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a0/Circle_-_black_simple.svg/220px-Circle_-_black_simple.svg.png" height="200" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<i><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Make new friends, but keep the old.</span></i></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One is silver and the other gold.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A circle is round, it has no end.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That's how long I want to be your friend.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We used to hold hands in our Girl Scout troop and sing that song at meetings and camp-outs. It's a great sentiment and the metaphor fits a childhood understanding of friendship really well. As I have gotten older, however, I have found that friendships end, they come and go, in and out, around the corner, and my image or metaphor turns out to be something a little more complicated like this:</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lBb0FSYx7Ks/TePYO9Nc5VI/AAAAAAAAAp4/R9ehVSt_CWU/s1600/Circle+Maze.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lBb0FSYx7Ks/TePYO9Nc5VI/AAAAAAAAAp4/R9ehVSt_CWU/s1600/Circle+Maze.png" height="200" width="196" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i><i>Friend</i> is defined by Webster as:</span><br />
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<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">one attached to another by</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"> affection </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">or esteem</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">acquaintance</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">one that is not hostile</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">one that is of the same nation, party, or group</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">one that favors or promotes something (as a charity)</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">a favored companion</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">What would you add to or change about this definition?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I struggle with defining friendship in my own life. I have friends from when I was young that I don't really keep in touch with, but that are still significant to me. I would love to be able to sit with them, start right where we left off, and catch up to the present. I have friends with whom I interacted for only a short time that were extremely impacting for me, but I find it hard to reach out to those people and have more interactions with them. There are others that I know only on the surface that I would love to know more deeply, but my fear of rejection and the anxiety surrounding that fear get the best of me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I have connected with people very naturally, but then wrecked relationships by turning them into romantic relationships. I know people who I thought were deep friends who only treat me as disposable or useful when I am around or convenient. I have people in my life who have similar interests and passions as I do that seem like they would be fast and easy friends, but then those relationships fade fast and easy. I know I have friends who have given much to me but I have not given them much, which makes me feel sorry. I also have friends who have taken much from me without me receiving much, which makes me feel tired. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The word "friend" is so loaded, I cannot understand how Webster has listed such a limited definition.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I'm going to shift my thinking here. Instead of thinking about all the confusing and ultimately "unsuccessful" friendships I have experienced, I am going to analyze the most successful ones. My most faithful friendships exhibit similar relational components as a healthy successful romantic relationships. Romantic relationships seem to be where a lot of people, myself included, pursue learning how to engage in a healthy relationship. For whatever reason(s) (that's a whole different blog post), I have been able to explore relational health most naturally in the romantic context.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Let's start there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To me, a healthy romantic relationship looks like this:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Giving and receiving</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Pursuing and being pursued</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Compromising and sacrificing</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Ebb and flow</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Longevity and commitment</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Quality time together, both leisure and business, so to speak</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Communication</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Vulnerability</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Needing and helping one another</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Working as a team</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Building off each other's strengths and weaknesses</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">Letting go of unfair expectations</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I'm sure there are other things I am forgetting, but you get the general idea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">When I think of "successful" friendships in my life, which are very few (good or bad?) all of the same points apply. In other words, the same amount of time and work that goes into building a healthy romantic relationship (well, outside of sexuality, I guess) is the same for a platonic friendship. Process that for a second...that takes a lot of work and energy, but the benefit is a great gain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I want that. I want friends that truly care for me and can be there for me and can let me be there for them. I want friends that can communicate well and work well with others. Ultimately, it doesn't matter if we like the same food, listen to the same music, tout the same causes, or wear the same style. It is easier to think that those people would be great friends because they seem exactly like you on the surface, but it takes so much more to have a healthy interpersonal relationship.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">In the end, I think it's important to look over our lives and analyze the state of our relationships. I believe a flourishing community is one that gets in deep and messy with one another in order to figure out how to live out those bullet points listed above. A flourishing community has little to do with neighborhood, race, socio-economic status but more to do with willingness to get to know and understand another person, to walk in their shoes in order to make the world a more loving place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I would argue this conclusion probably undermines our Facebook friends list, but I would challenge you to seek out a real friendship with some of the people in your life because that act of communing with another person is life itself. Jesus was the way, the truth, and the life-- no one can get to the Father except through him. Notice how active that definition of Jesus is-- the way requires walking, the truth requires hearing and proclaiming, the life requires living, striving, suffering, and all the bullet points listed above. Loving someone isn't as easy as we make it seem. Jesus spent blood, sweat, tears, resources, time, and energy with those he loved. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His ministry did not start when he turned 30 years old and set out to call the 12 disciples to his side. It began before that, when he was born humbly and dirty, as he proclaimed authority in the temple when he was a boy, and as he lived the rest of his life building his community around him. I would venture to say that Jesus didn't just start hanging out with the marginalized right after he recruited the disciples--it was just time for him to let others see what love he had already begun around him. The disciples were witnesses to the results of Jesus living out the gospel his whole life. After they witnessed the way Jesus lived his life, they wrote about it in order to spread it all over the world for generations to come, not because the three years they were with him were miraculous and his death was such an immense sacrifice for all, but because the whole life of Jesus was the gospel and those last three years were simply the punctuation marks at the end of a lifetim</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">e.</span></span></div>
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Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-25970455883645793832014-02-16T22:49:00.000-05:002014-02-16T22:49:12.455-05:00Really Reality<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
I have gone through the ringer over the past few years. I am assuming that it's normal for someone in their twenties to go through it. Maybe many times. Figuring out the core of our being, while also accepting change and growing.</div>
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I have spent time doing lots of different things, feeling unsatisfied, contented, then burned out, then fiercely rejuvenated, then saying "fuck you" to the world as I knew it, then taking risks, feeling the consequences, then making sense of suffering while also trying to maintain my mental health.</div>
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I have grown a lot in these times. Growing, for me, equates to shedding a false projected image. I want to seem cool, compassionate, caring, edgy, fashionable, relevant, intelligent-- It affects my taste in music, the clothes I wear, the things I believe and discuss, the expectations I place, the passions I pursue, and the people with whom I surround myself.</div>
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I have found that the reality of me is what stands the test of time, the things I come back to. Not necessarily the things that define me, but the things that are a permanent part of me, including my taste in clothes, music, passions, people, conversations, and beliefs. Unfortunately for me, time refines, and I'm impatient. Thankfully, in retrospect, I understand that my skin tight disguise which deceived me into believing that I was being authentic, is peeling off, layer by layer, and each day reveals the truth beneath. Now that I am aware, I am able to do my best to prevent more layers from forming in order to cling to that truth.</div>
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One part of my journey has helped me reflect a lot on myself and what I value. My journey has taken me through relationships with many different groups of people with many different interests, focuses, and beliefs. More specifically, I have taken some time to ponder the idea of church...even more specifically, what I believe about the idea of church.</div>
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My ideals tend to be irreconcilable with my reality (see above extrapolation). I want to be a part of the "best" church community-- one that feeds me, challenges me, teaches me, needs me, comforts me, stretches me, serves the marginalized in society, makes waves in the community, is committed to bettering the city in the name of Jesus...</div>
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I think everyone and their dog is aware that there is not one perfect church. There isn't even one best church, not even just for me, let alone for everyone. I have realized that where I am comfortable is not going to offer me the challenges I expect. Where I am fed, I may not necessarily be needed. The places that are making waves or committing to making change in the city are not able to comfort me or support me. Different communities and churches will offer different strengths and weaknesses, and I most likely will not find a community that fits all of my ideals in the way that I want it to. Especially if I am only looking in my own city (which I am).</div>
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Maybe I spent most of my life adorning the ever deplorable "entitled" attitude that I was so desperately trying to avoid. After all, I can't help that I am a millennial who was raised in a middle-class white American home. I am coming to accept that I feel most comfortable and fed and supported in a community of middle class white Americans. I think it's okay. I think it's okay that I feel uncomfortable attending a service mostly consisting of charismatic African Americans, even if it is the closest church to my home. I don't have to go there if it's uncomfortable, even if it challenges and stretches me. It's okay that a church that makes waves in the community for change feels like it doesn't challenge or feed me in ways that I need. I am still figuring out what the best scenario is for me, but I am also learning a lot about acceptance.</div>
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A simple commitment may be what I need to lead to all of my ideals. It may not be apparent on the surface. It may not be apparent until 10 years of attending services and investing in that particular community before I can see how it is meeting or not meeting my ideals. And just because something does not meet my ideals does not mean I have to abandon it, but again, that line is a fine one to walk.</div>
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Reality is not permanent and it is not static. "Myself" is always changing, yes, but I have to keep in mind that I am also changed. I can do something to respond to the change that has already taken place, my current reality, my current truth. I can also, simultaneously, remain open to the fact that I will come to reassess my reality and truth at many other points in my life. Thinking about that makes me feel exhausted and a little defeated, but it is also the reason our lives on this earth have such beauty and redemption present in them. We learn from the past, make decisions in the present, and worry about the future when it becomes the present.</div>
Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-36380300028536779762013-03-27T21:36:00.002-04:002013-03-27T21:36:48.149-04:00Solemnity Rules The Day<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I awake among the shadow of the sunrise</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Eyes swollen shut and blinded by the
rays</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Slowly rolling away, my mind purges
thoughts</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And solemnity rules the day</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I stumble forward walking tenderly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Rinse my body in the warmth of the rain</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then clothe myself in tufts of clouds</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As solemnity rules the day</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When you find me, I'll be crying</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Crying or staring still</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The moon rising along its way</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And
solemnity ruled the day.</span></div>
Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-5810111472777296162013-02-09T16:09:00.004-05:002013-02-09T16:25:49.692-05:00The Woman Who Gave All She HadI imagine that she was an aspiring entrepreneur wanting to open her own perfume shop with exotic exports from all around the world. In realizing her limits, whether financially, societally, or whatever else, she could only devote herself to her one beautiful jar of her favorite scent.<br />
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The woman, although her dreams and ideals were high, was humbled by her circumstances. Never had she married, so her family had disowned her and moved away. She was depressed and lived below the poverty line. She experienced severe anxiety around others because of how often she had been rejected and belittled in her life. But again, she was just trying to make a living in this cruel world with her one bottle of fragrant oil.<br />
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She may share a drop or two with you if you find her on her route around downtown, and if you pay her the right price. After all, she had to make a living somehow, and she surely despised the way other women in similar situations resorted to selling their bodies to live a life of wealth. One day, as she made her way around town, she heard rumors of a man who seemed too strange to be true-- a man who hung out with homeless people and sick and dying men; a man whose friends were drunks, drug addicts, and gamblers; a man who was rumored to heal those who were ailing from some longstanding handicap; a man who calmed the voices inside the schizophrenic and bi-polar person's head; a man who spoke against oppression and stood for and with those who had no voice. This man traveled around the countryside speaking mysteries to those who were curious enough to listen, and this day, the woman heard that he had come to her town to stay for the weekend.<br />
<br />
She hoped that she may run into him while she was around town but wanted to avoid seeking him out; what would she say to him, anyway? She often stumbled upon her words and stood in the shadows of others' conversations. What would she offer him for a hint of his healing powers or some sign of a divine spark? She had nothing but a jar of perfume that was even hard to sell in this tough economy. And did she even deserve to try and receive some magical healing? Others were in worse situations than her own, and how selfish of her to think that she was worth the trouble.<br />
<br />
That evening, a friend of hers came to her home to have some tea and chat. She had heard that this man who had come to town was heading over to have dinner with a man, her neighbor, who lived just down the street. The man was well-known in the neighborhood for his involvement with a local church and despite his service to the Lord, he had been stricken with stage four cancer. Rumors were circulating that this strange man had healed her neighbor completely from his cancer in a moment. Despite her hesitance, the woman could not miss this opportunity to meet the strange man.<br />
<br />
After her friend went home, the woman stood in her tiny kitchen, nervously watching out her window for any sign of his arrival at her neighbor's place. After about ten minutes of watching, she noticed a group of about 10 people walking up the street toward her neighbor's house, and without any indication or distinction, she was able to tell right away that one man was noticeable in a way that none of the others were. She watched them as they entered the man's house with many hugs, smiles, and handshakes. Knowing that the interruption of their meal was quite taboo, especially being a street-peddling, poor, single woman, she put on her jacket, grabbed her jar of perfume so that her neighbor may think she was trying to make a sale, and then headed over to her neighbor's. The man greeted her kindly, and without question or wonder, invited her in.<br />
<br />
The woman saw the visitor and immediately began weeping, for somehow she felt that he loved and accepted her in a way that no one else in her life ever had. Somehow, his presence restored her sense of value and worth, her hopes and dreams seemed possible, and all her struggles in life seemed for a purpose. She fell at his feet and wiped her tears away with her hair, not really thinking how much more sense it would have made to use her dress or her blouse for the same purpose. Although she should have felt embarrassed, she felt proud and beautiful and free. Out of that freedom from worry, she poured all of her favorite perfume over the man's feet. She didn't fear losing her life's wages and what the consequences of her action might be, but she instead felt the deepest peace and belonging she had ever felt. How could one man inspire such inexplicable emotions in such a short moment?<br />
<br />
At the sight of this absurd action, some of the man's friends began to question the woman and her intentions. Who was she? Why had she come? And why the hell would she just waste all of that really expensive perfume? Was she mentally disabled or just stupid? The man rebuked his friends for scolding her because he saw her devotion to him. He sustained that confidence in her as he defended her, and he invited her to dine with them the rest of the night.<br />
<br />
That night the woman walked away with a sense of joy and provision. Never again would she have to worry about the food on her table, the reputation she held in the town, the money to pay her rent and bills, or the clothes in her closet that were beginning to tear. That man had shown her true, untainted love, and within that love she had found the power to pursue new ways of making a living. She began to think creatively, outside of the standards of the society, for ways to obtain food, clothes, or anything else she would need. She now had a community that she could depend upon who also saw the man's beauty and devoted themselves to following him. She knew she would never again be forsaken or alone, and she praised the God that she had always known was there but had never really been able to grasp, for now he was within her reach.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://marshmk.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/magdelene_annointing_jesus_feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://marshmk.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/magdelene_annointing_jesus_feet.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://marshmk.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/magdelene_annointing_jesus_feet.jpg">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-61044813325107568412013-01-08T15:58:00.000-05:002013-01-08T16:03:42.651-05:00The "Just Not Quite"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SqDkf_TDQb0/UOyJm3k-SyI/AAAAAAAAAdI/FuzKK2Q4ShQ/s1600/not_quite_art_1984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SqDkf_TDQb0/UOyJm3k-SyI/AAAAAAAAAdI/FuzKK2Q4ShQ/s320/not_quite_art_1984.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
All my life I have had this intrusive feeling that I am just not quite... fill in the blank. In school, I remember being in honors/gifted classes, but always getting good grades, but "just not quite" the best I thought I should be earning. My family was always pretty well-off, but "just not quite" well-off enough to buy me an American Girl doll or a TV for my room. As a musician, I have had the training to make me "just not quite" good. I have always had an easy time attracting people, whether friends or partners, but when it comes down to maintaining those relationships, I am "just not quite" sane enough or "just not quite" controlled enough or "just not quite" outgoing or sensitive or consistent enough. In heading to college, my parents made "just not quite" enough to avoid taking out loans. With recent health issues starting in college and still continuing, I have "just not quite" long enough to take advantage of my health insurance under my parents.<br />
<br />
Granted, I think I have suffered from "compare-yourself-to-others" disease all of my life, which is probably where the qualifier mostly comes in handy. Also, I have a hard time not getting what I want or think I deserve. Entitlement, I guess. But, I have since become more humble, I think. I am grateful for who I am, faults, failures, and circumstances included, although I still struggle with accepting those things. I see the benefits of thorns in my side reminding me of my dependence on others and God, that I can't do life alone. I have grown and matured through the experiences that frustrate me and stretch me and make me want to throw a tantrum.<br />
<br />
I still come in contact with those moments, though, but I am grateful that I have evolved from actually throwing a tantrum to calmly accepting my circumstances. Thank God for anti-anxiety meds, also. Today, for example, I went in to apply and interview for Food Stamps. I have been struggling financially because I make "just not quite" enough money to pay for all my expenses. Rent, food, gas, utilities, student loans, counseling, prescriptions, etc. My counselor gave me the permission/idea to apply for Food Stamps. I had never considered myself to be eligible for that assistance, but knowing my own circumstances, it made a lot of sense, so I went for it.<br />
<br />
My interviewer informed me that I am earning "just not quite" low enough to qualify for food stamps. She also reminded me that with recent tax hikes passed through legislation, they have not yet changed the income threshold for Food Stamp qualifications...awesome. I mean, we are in debt, so it makes sense, but not for my life. So I left with a chip on my shoulder from my run in with our lovely legislative system and yet an understanding of all the stuff I have been hearing on NPR for the last few years and how it is finally starting to affect me personally.<br />
<br />
I've decided government student loans are a horrible idea. Innocent, naive young adults with their bright future and high ideals in sight are robbed of their ability to practically pursue their dreams. They offer short term instant gratification during college and then disappointment and near poverty after. The government will continue to make money off of me even if I try to put a forbearance on my loans because I still have to pay interest and my loan amount never goes down if I do that. As I look back, I suppose I could have taken out no loans, gone to a cheaper school a shorter distance from home, worked all through college, majored in something uber practical in any job market, and lowered my chances of being in such high debt. Yet, I see my experience at a private Christian school and the ways that I grew and the quality of education I received and the value of being away from home, and I know it was worth every penny.<br />
<br />
So here I am, stuck yet again in the "just not quite" stage of life. I am "just not quite" paying enough on my loans to eradicate them before the government pillages my bank account. I am "just not quite" experienced enough to get a job that pays me what my degree is worth or at least provides me with benefits. I am "just not quite" wealthy enough to put money in savings or think about investing.<br />
ent will continue to make money off of me even if I try to put a forbearance on my loans because I still have to pay interest and my loan amount never goes down.<br />
<br />
Ultimately, my solution is to go on a hard core spending fast, trim the fat as much as possible, pay as much as I can on my loans to eliminate debt as quickly as possible, try to make up any missed hours at work each week, and just try to save every penny I can. Time to be a real life grown up. I thought I was already doing this, but I guess there is always more you can do to avoid being "just not quite."Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-88177180811843355852012-10-09T21:43:00.001-04:002012-10-09T21:43:06.462-04:00Unexpected Deliverance
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">In
my dreams, New York is a complex maze of train tracks, subways, and
boardwalks.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">There's
a barge as long as the bay is wide.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">There
are two buildings rising up with smoke and the fear of that year
comes into their eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">That
bus full of kids loads back up to leave the competition to bring them
all back to their lives of poverty.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">They're
forced to end with the one thing they are good at left unfinished and
unknown because of some one person's actions.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
boy who is the best goes home to his mother, rides the train back to
his neighborhood,</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Receives
a free frozen lemonade from a man he doesn't recognize, but the man
sure knows him and his family.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">He
is an angel sent to care for and protect them.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
angel climbs into the maze of rebar and steel, looking down on nooks
and crannies where the homeless men may live.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
think he's taking me to see one of his beloved, but instead we look
upon the set of a movie right where we've stopped.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">He
is a cameraman, but the tracks above us are too loud and they shake,
and the extras in the movie point to a sign it says, “No Camera A.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">So
we begin to climb back down, tiny tight little spaces where only my
soul can go and not my body.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
awake so slowly with the vivd pictures on my eyes and remember that
reality is not so beautiful.</span></span></div>
Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-25731294088675175722012-10-01T14:53:00.000-04:002012-10-01T14:53:00.025-04:00Resurrection<div style="text-align: center;">
When we are dead</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We all have wings</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We don't need legs to stand.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img0.etsystatic.com/000/0/5178293/il_570xN.256750084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://img0.etsystatic.com/000/0/5178293/il_570xN.256750084.jpg" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/77693702/renewal-original-illustration-in-gouache?ref=sr_gallery_7&ga_ex=etsy_finds&ga_ref=etsy_finds&ga_utm_source=etsy_finds&ga_utm_medium=email&ga_utm_campaign=etsy_finds_100112_2640859386_0&ga__user_id=8536509&ga_link_clicked=49&ga_redirect=1&ga_filters=art+-supplies+paper&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-23932024544578838542012-09-26T21:21:00.000-04:002012-09-26T21:21:10.514-04:00Newness as a Source of Inspiration<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://media-cache-ec2.pinterest.com/upload/148055906470273061_EDq7GpDJ_c.jpg" width="320" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://taniadacruz.portfoliobox.net/gallery/4979/wig/">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Today, I was in a counseling session discussing my general thriftiness with the occasional shopping spree, to which my counselor responded, "It's probably the childlike part of you that wants to treat itself every once in a while, and that's not bad as long as it's not overboard." I knew that of course, and I went on to explain to her how the last shopping spree I went on was, in fact, a bit overboard, but how I don't do that all the time.<br />
<br />
In a separate but connected thought pattern, most nights I find myself relaxing while browsing pinterest, etsy, or modcloth looking for beautiful things to someday make or buy to make my life a bit more beautiful and fun. I probably buy less than one percent of the things that I "like" or "post" or "pin" or "wish" or whatever else you can do with those things. I mostly just enjoy seeing what new things are out there and in what new ways people are designing things. It keeps my mind fresh and helps me feel inspired. Sometimes it overwhelms, too. Especially if I spend many hours a night, many nights in a row doing said activities.<br />
<br />
I think tonight I came to a point of overwhelmed-ness. I also came to a point to understanding. I need newness to keep my mind fresh and moving forward. I hate to be stagnant, and I think that matches the nature of life. As much as we want to stay put and keep comfy, life often pushes to the edge, to the limit, into discomfort, out of the box, onto our knees, into someone else's arms or home for support. Life, by it's very nature is not stagnant. Here's where you may be disagreeing with me. We all have come to that point of boredom with our daily living and routines,etc, but let us be clear, life only <i>appears</i> to be stagnant in those times. Do not get lost in it-- only an ILLUSION.<br />
<br />
Here's where the understanding deepens: if you take no notice of things outside of your routine, your own little world, you may be under the impression that each day is as dull and predictable as the rest, but I would challenge you at minimum to turn on your local NPR station. NPR reports on news and weather, as many broadcasting networks do. Heck, if you aren't a radio person and TV is more your thing, you could just turn on your local news station. Either way, you are bound to notice that <i>something</i> is different today from yesterday. If not in your own life, in someone else's. If not noticeably in someone else's, at least in the weather.<br />
<br />
The seasons and weather, I think, are God's ways of reminding us that we are different every day in some way. Our lives as a whole mirror not a stagnant puddle after a storm, but the river that flows without end, even when a bit dry. We are the seasons that change every year without ceasing. We are the wind that blows unpredictably and unexpectedly. We are the clouds that blow and shift and change around the spherical planet we inhabit. We are the death and rebirth. We are the sleep and the awakening. Life is not meant to stand still or mechanically repeat endlessly. Even in our routines and rhythms, life is always changing and different. I think if we are able to recognize that and pay attention to it on a regular basis, we can become more intentional about the ways we are growing and changing as people.<br />
<br />
Counseling has taught me a lot-- that I am in control of things that I never thought I had control over, and also it has taught me that I am not in control over things that I thought I did have control over. Nevertheless, both require a conscious acceptance that both postures are a part of who I am. Life requires me to bind it in a stranglehold and to release it without knowing its path. The timing of each action is what I am working on now-- to know when to grasp and tame and to know when to submit and observe. It's a beautiful gift that we have the opportunity to take on both perspectives. I want to learn to continue how to balance them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://mfs.piccsy.com/t/picc-4iaelr3nl-116978-475-595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://mfs.piccsy.com/t/picc-4iaelr3nl-116978-475-595.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://piccsy.com/2011/07/picc-4iaelr3nl/">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Take a look at the right hand side of this page to get some material inspiration, and take a walk outside to find your natural inspiration. It's always there waiting for you to seek it and either observe or tame it. Be blessed on this beautiful day.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-91744730789144088452012-09-03T14:19:00.001-04:002012-09-03T14:19:12.652-04:00The Miracle of Strife (Part 1)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5144984/il_570xN.234018421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5144984/il_570xN.234018421.jpg" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5144984/il_570xN.234018421.jpg">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Striving we all seem to be-- for money, recognition, affection, worth, knowledge, acceptance, fairness, justice, joy, growth, maturity, fulfillment....the list goes on. We strive and strive in this life on this earth. To what end? Striving for something, whether a goal or an attribute, is always hard. The word 'strive' indicates hard work, sweat, tears, pain-- most often is does not have a positive connotation. After striving we hope to be in a positive place, but the process itself is by no means fun or enjoyable.<br />
<br />
I have come to find, in my quarter century of life, that striving accompanies all parts of life. Personally, I have spent my life striving for attention, for dance trophies, for friendships, for love, for good grades, for scholarships, for athletic abilities, for happiness, for joy, for satisfaction, for purpose, for a mate, for meaning, for a job, for understanding, for money, for recognition, for worth, for faith... all to little or no end. Not that I didn't receive those things, but those things came despite my strife.<br />
<br />
This past week was a really tough week for me: work has become a lot more stressful, things with church are busy and stressful, and my relationships were on the rocks. I was striving to survive, manage my time well, care for others in my life, care for myself, let others care for me, and know God. For those of you who may not know, I believe that a being whom I (and others) would call God, has created this world and myself. I believe what the Bible says about God sending a man in the humble form of a child to reach out and relate to the human race, and to bring about reconciliation and redemption in our lives of strife. At least I thought I believed that until Friday.<br />
<br />
My faith journey has been one that has been pretty much always confusing, but always assuring. I have seen myself and others transform in ways that would otherwise seem impossible had it not been for some divine source outside of ourselves. I came to love the message of Jesus in high school, despite my family's disapproval, and I have seen many beautiful people and moments since that time. I have come to love others and myself and God more deeply than I ever thought possible, and those things are powerful. When I have lost sight of those things, it is equally powerful and scary. The only security I find in life is the knowledge of the fact that I don't know much and that I am really not as in control as I think I am.<br />
<br />
Friday night, after this rough week that consisted of way too much work, lots of wine, and lots of just existing, my roommates and I spontaneously had a dance party to Spice Girls and DMX (awesome combination, right). We danced like madwomen, and we loved every minute. We lost all inhibition, we embraced the moment and each other. It was beautiful really. Then we wound down and went our separate ways. I thought that moment would provide so much comfort to my weary soul, but alas I still felt empty. I felt frustrated. I felt the most anxiety I had felt all week. It all seemingly culminated in this moment where I actually gave some time to care for myself. Cutting a rug shook loose every thought and emotion that I had been holding back to get through the week. The proverbial flood gates opened.<br />
<br />
By this time it was dark. I got up from the couch, so tired of looking at facebook and working on stuff for church. I got in my car and just started driving. I knew that there was a blue moon that night so I wanted to find a good spot to sit and watch it for a while-- the air was cool enough that it was more refreshing than being in my non-airconditioned house. I drove and drove. And drove some more. And drove. Finally, after skirting the whole city, I found an abandoned parking lot with enough shadows for me to hide in. I parked my car behind a paper collecting dumpster, leaned my seat back, and turned off the radio.<br />
<br />
Silence. Then came the thoughts-- my head was exploding with anxious thoughts about all the issues of the week, especially my unhappiness and my lack of fulfillment. I felt so empty, and I still could not figure out how to fill myself back up. Sitting in darkness and stillness, listening to the crickets chirping and the cars whizzing by at the nearby intersection, one of those anxious thoughts popped out of the barrage in my head and made itself very clear: I AM NOT HAPPY, AND I CANNOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. I realized that I had been trying to make myself happy all week-- reassuring myself that the lost relationships would be replaced by new ones, that drinking wine would somehow induce a permanent state of merriment and peace, that dancing with my friends and watching the moon would somehow still the raging waters in my soul... but none of that actually worked. I could try and try and try some more to make myself happy, and it was just not going to work.<br />
<br />
I don't know how other people react to those kinds of situations, but the first question that arose in my mind was "If I leave open the possibility for Christianity to just be a psychological coping mechanism, does that mean I am not a Christian?" I sent it in a text to one of my roommates, and then decided to go get some more wine and go home to talk it over with her and my other roommate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9O1Ja8cQJVU/T-KC9TJdaxI/AAAAAAAAFo8/LqwKIsu1o1Q/s1600/wine.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9O1Ja8cQJVU/T-KC9TJdaxI/AAAAAAAAFo8/LqwKIsu1o1Q/s320/wine.jpeg" width="250" /></a></div>
<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-9551476718827540032012-09-03T14:19:00.000-04:002012-09-03T14:19:01.863-04:00The Miracle of Strife (Part 2)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img2.etsystatic.com/000/0/5999448/il_fullxfull.188023722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img2.etsystatic.com/000/0/5999448/il_fullxfull.188023722.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/60374858/print-of-collagepainting?ref=usr_faveitems">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Working through complicated questions takes a lot of either patience or complete surrender of power of self, as I soon came to find out in talking with my roommates. They were wonderful listening ears with a lot of the same questions I had, which is understandable since we are all in about the same stage of life. We came to the conclusion that time will tell, experience provides wisdom and understanding. The best that we can do is ask the questions and continue to seek out people's experiences to help inform our understanding.<br />
<br />
The next morning, all of my roommates had left the house and I was working on planning music for church. In the midst of questioning God, planning a worship service is really hard. One of my friends reached out to me seeing a frustrated post on Facebook: "Kayla. I have beer. Come over." Would have loved to except I am working on shit for church... no excuses. About an hour or so later, I hear a knock on my door. I open it to see my friend, and immediately the water works go into effect. I have tears streaming down my face and am so appreciative of people that know what I need even when I won't acknowledge it. He comes in and just holds me and tells me that everything is okay. Exactly what I need. We sit down, he hands me a fancy (and rather large!) bottle of beer, and his generosity is such a blessing to me. We talk through some things and he reminds me that I will make it through, that he has seen me make it through before, and that I have such a worth. He has seen me grow and it is beautiful. God's voice speaks through surprising moments.<br />
<br />
At this point, I have to leave to rehearse at the church, so I grab my beer, my ukelele, and my purse, walk my friend to the door and head out, eyes puffed and red, but heart ready to move forward. Rehearsal was good (except that I found out my ukelele is broken) and the music ministered to my soul more than any preacher will. We practice for a few hours and then I head home to get ready for a night out with the girls. We head out for margaritas and football, then back to a girl's house for more booze and doggy cuddle time. It was just the relaxing fun that I needed. I ended the night very sleepy and ready to hear from God the next day.<br />
<br />
I fell alseep and then wake up at about 4:30, which is pretty normal for me when I drink. I get up to pee and grab some water, then attempt to snuggle back under the covers until my alarm goes off at 7. I lay there, thoughts again whirling around in my head...20 minutes...30 minutes...45minutes...alright still not asleep. I guess it's time to get up. I wake up with a fragment of a verse from the Bible in my head-- "Perfect love casts out fear..." Whatever that means. I spend some time working on the powerpoint for church, then I start to read through a book that a friend suggested the night before. The book is called "The Return of the Prodigal Son" by Henri Nouwen and it is amazing. Nouwen speaks beautifully to the human dilemma of innate worth and feeling loved by God:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"God rejoices. Not because the problems of the world have been solved, not because all human pain and suffering have come to an end, not because thousands of people have been converted and are now praising him for his goodness. No, God rejoices because <i>one</i> of his children who has been lost has been found. What I am called to is to enter into that joy. It is God's joy, not the joy that the world offers. It is the joy that comes from seeing a child walk home amid all the destruction, devastation, and anguish of the world... I have to learn to 'steal' all the real joy there is and lift it up for others to see... I don't have to wait until all is well, but I can celebrate every little hint of the Kingdom that is at hand." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>The Return of the Prodigal Son, pp 114-155</i></blockquote>
"This is how love is made complete (or perfect) among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment (or any day, really): In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect (or complete, mature) in love. We love because (God) first loved us.<br />
<i>1 John 4:17-19</i><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5257925/il_fullxfull.204311977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5257925/il_fullxfull.204311977.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/64933898/anatomical-heart-clear-polymer-rubber?ref=usr_faveitems">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-37005039237572594862012-09-03T14:18:00.004-04:002012-09-03T14:18:53.073-04:00The Miracle of Strife (Part 3)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img3.etsystatic.com/000/0/5340837/il_fullxfull.160460923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="309" src="http://img3.etsystatic.com/000/0/5340837/il_fullxfull.160460923.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/52139773/blue-moon-clock?">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I spent the rest of the morning moving slowly and intentionally as I got ready to go to church. After watching the moon on Friday I had realized that I love taking life slowly and that I had lost the ability to do that. So, I took a long shower, took a while to pick my clothes out, and even put on a bit of makeup. I dressed up a bit more for church than usual, not to impress anyone or to convince myself that I feel good, but to express how I felt inside. I felt beautiful, I felt happy, I felt full of worth, loved. I put on mascara and told myself that I would not cry today and that today was going to be a good day. I made breakfast and grabbed my things to head to church. It was a rainy morning, but it felt so sacred. It reminded me of when I first started going to The Mercy House when I was in college, and how we used to comment about it always raining on Sundays. This rain reminded me of those days that were so refreshing for me, and today the rain served the same purpose. I knew that I didn't have to pretend to be anything or anyone that I am not, and I know that God's love for me was all I needed to accept in order to be happy.<br />
<br />
I sent my worship team a wake-up text -- "This is the day that the Lord has made! Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" (Shout out to Camp Su'Na'Go' peeps ;D) I had a song in my heart. I headed to the door and proclaimed that I would open it on the first try. Note here-- our locks on the building we are in are HORRIBLE. I generally spend about ten minutes trying to wiggle the key and finagle the lock until the door finally opens, so getting it to turn on the first try would be a small but huge miracle. I approached the door with confidence, trust, and most importantly belief. I turned the key slowly and caught the lock on the first try...the door opened! "Praise God," I thought. I love it when God speaks in those small but huge ways.<br />
<br />
We practiced, played through a beautiful service that was carried a divinely planned theme of letting God have control and learning to love and not resent, and then we had a time of communion with one another over a pitch-in meal, which is always a blessing. After cleaning up from the meal, a friend and I started chatting and she found out about the week that I had. I was planning on having a tough conversation with a friend that day, so she wanted to pray over me and talk with me about it. We went back inside, alone in the church, and talked more.<br />
<br />
She spoke to me about things that there is no way she would have known without me telling her. She spoke directly to my heart about worth, about confidence, about God's innate love for his people, about acceptance, about peace and hope for the future, and she reassured me of some thoughts that I was already having. Then she spoke a strong, straightforward prayer of blessing and anointing over me, and I felt a warmth in my heart, not like a warmth of simply feeling loved, but a warmth of a deeper assurance of love, a warmth that I can only attribute to the Holy Spirit of God himself. I have only felt that when I have felt like my knowledge of God and my assurance of His love for me has been so certain. It was beautiful. I thanked her as we parted ways and I headed over to my friend's house to talk.<br />
<br />
We had an awesome talk, and all the things we had been praying were exactly the way the conversation went. God is faithful. Another miracle of his love. The night ended peacefully with a community meeting at church (we have been meeting for the past few months to figure out where our church is going to meet starting at the end of September, so it's generally a stressful meeting). I went to bed feeling assured, secure, strong, confident, and happy.<br />
<br />
So striving is never in vain if you can see it for its beauty. The process of striving is often synonymous with the process of growing. We may strive for a goal and then end up somewhere totally different. That doesn't mean we have failed or strived in vain, but that means that the one who knows what is best for us is intervening in a miraculous way. In times when I am struggling to see the blessings and the beauty of my life, instead of striving in frustration, I am going to slow down, take some deep breaths, and talk with God about it. I am going to let go of controlling my life and look to the one who created me for His will for me. I can only be happy when I accept the love my God has for me. His love is vast, deeper and wider than any body of water or distance in space that we can fathom. God is more present than we realize, more faithful than we acknowledge, and more good than we make Him out to be. No longer do we have to fear for our lives because He has already saved them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5136407/il_570xN.165115273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5136407/il_570xN.165115273.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/53530152/flutter?ref=usr_faveitems">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-1844047816757339432012-07-05T20:05:00.000-04:002012-07-05T20:05:46.819-04:00The Jumbled Mind<span style="font-family: inherit;">Feeling not so prose-y lately but instead, oh so poetic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Motion and Still</span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dust
swirls into clouds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Clouds
float into sky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sky
sinks into shore<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Shore
transforms into home<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Home
turns into sleep<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sleep
gives into dreams<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dreams
lead into steps<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Steps
grow into leaps<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Leaps clear into dance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dance
leaves behind stagnance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stagnance
jumps in front of inspiration<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Inspiration
begets expression<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Expression
bleeds into forces<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Forces
cause heartache<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Heartache
seeks relationship<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Relationship
breaks binding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Binding
holds separation<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Separation
creates distance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Distance
marks unfamiliarity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Unfamiliarity
brings discomfort<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Discomfort
allows growth<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Growth
brings life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Life
is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">These
are the places I have known<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And
will be the places that I’ve been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCgZ8HzFupg/T_YrFN5nePI/AAAAAAAAAbo/I43vKGTuD1o/s1600/good3+336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCgZ8HzFupg/T_YrFN5nePI/AAAAAAAAAbo/I43vKGTuD1o/s320/good3+336.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-16884744831313410862012-03-29T20:18:00.002-04:002012-03-29T20:22:55.436-04:00Fear and RationalityWow it has been about 4 months since my last post! So sad. But it goes to show my schedule and abilities to endeavor into my creative outlets (aka that endeavor does not exist). I have not, however, stopped thinking. <br />
<br />
<br />
This brain is like a train line, always moving, sometimes on schedule, sometimes a bit off. If thinking could be classified as a spiritual gift, I would say that I possess it. Along with the ability to think and analyze comes an understanding of most possible outcomes in situations. When I consider everything that could possibly happen in all situations of my life I run myself pretty ragged, engendering fear and anxiety that paralyzes. Luckily, after 23 years of life, I have learned to cope somewhat, especially in the last few years thanks to the help of counselors (official and unofficial) and some very loving friends. As I have breached the surface of my unbridled sea of anxiousness, I have noticed that I am not the only one who suffers with this crippling fear. There are many of us! It's so weird how alone I felt in my anxiety, especially alienated by the ones closest to me who suffered from their own anxieties. It's quite maddening.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Nevertheless, I have emerged from beneath the abyss, and now I am prepared to gaze at the reflection permanently situated on the surface. Fear and anxiety are not the way we are meant to live. They trap creativity and the ability to take risks in any situation. I was raised to be not only cautious always, but never to take risks. Always seek comfort and success because you wouldn't want to embarass yourself by looking like you don't have it all together. I don't know that my family meant me that harm, but that is how it manifested, and I can't help but think about the countless children that I have see, am seeing, and will see in my life. Am I continuing the vicious cycle of imparting my own anxiety into future generations? The short answer is no. The long answer follows.<br />
<br />
I currently work at a preschool that is rooted in the Montessori Method of education. For those of you who are Montessori ignorant (as I was before I started working there), basically speaking it is a method of educating based on scientific and developmental research that promotes independently paced learning based on student interest and motivation. We structure everything logically, focusing mainly on one aspect of learning at a time, with self-checks so that the kids can know when they do a work correctly or incorrectly. Direct feedback during the learning process. It is pretty amazing-- we have a few 4 year-olds who are delving into material that is first grade level work, and I think those children would have been overlooked and simply out of luck in the regular classroom (or regular preschool, for that matter).<br />
<br />
Within the idea of logical learning, we use every moment in our daily life as a moment to learn. A kid is throwing a fit because he doesn't want to put his coat on before we go outside...unfortunately, it's not an option for him to stay inside because it is our outside time where the whole class goes outside. He consequently has two options-- he can put his coat on and come outside, or he can not put his coat and come outside. The teacher has many other students to attend to, so the option of the teacher fighting him to put his coat on is, in fact, not an option. The kid chooses to stand behind his decision to not put his coat on, he goes outside, he's very cold, he learns that it is his responsibility to keep himself warm by putting on his coat. Parents sometimes come into the picture not understanding how we do things, and they get upset to see how we handle a situation (especially the coat issue) because of course every parent wants their child to be comfortable and successful (my parents are exhibit A up above). The thing is, parents, you aren't promoting the best for your child if you aren't helping them think logically for themselves. Independent thinking allows for innovation and creativity, and if we stifle their opportunities to learn, especially at this formative age, we are not enabling or empowering them.<br />
<br />
It seems to me that we all entertain irrational fears: fear of spiders, fear of snakes, fear of bugs, fear of heights, fear of mice in your house, fear of dogs, fear of abandonment, fear of failure, fear of embarassment, etc. These fears very well may be rooted in experience, but a lot of times those experiences are not consistent in our lives. I fear failing because I think people would not see me as a competent individual and that they would stop believing that I could make a difference in the world and in people's lives. That affects my whole life. But it's not rational. What people think of me only determines my fate to a certain extent-- I may not get that job that I wanted or I may lose the job I have, I may lose a friend or get a bad grade. Ultimately, my life would move forward, and I would forget about all of those things. Our fears are irrational whether they are rooted in experience or not.<br />
<br />
<b>Necessary Christian Connection (and the reason why I have been able to move forward in my anxiety issues)</b><br />
God calls us to love and be loved and that perfect love, which he offers us, casts out fear. So why is it that some Christians I know are also the most insecure people I know? Shouldn't we look different from the rest of our society because our hope rests in something so much bigger than our fears? I think most would say yes, but most don't know how to pull themselves out of their fears. That's where our community comes in. The church body that is promoted all throughout the New Testament. We are called to sharpen one another, to rebuke one another, to encourage one another, to speak truth in love to one another. Never are we called to propagate fear in one another or distance ourselves from one another or live alone.<br />
<br />
That's where my mission comes in. Our school is that community for these kids. I have been put on this earth and in this particular job to help children see that they are safe and loved, if not all the time, at least by me. It's very difficult to promote that and live that lifestyle out fully and consistently because I <i>am</i> broken and still struggling with my own issues, but I have seen the benefit already of the little bit that I am able to do to help them. They are beautiful people already because my fellow teachers and I challenge them to think, to talk, to act, to deal with their emotions, and to walk through life logically for the purpose of staying grounded and doing their best. They are satisfied and proud that they can solve their own fights with friends and figure work out on their own. They are empowered and enabled, the lack of which is the plight of those impoverished in this world. I am thankful that I get this opportunity to help change the world in whatever small way God empowers and enables me.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-37338396223676593302011-11-27T23:48:00.002-05:002011-12-04T18:51:37.052-05:00Depth is Not Just for Deep-Sea Divers: Part 1Life has its way with me, a way of stunning me with questions.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/il_570xN.247024341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://img1.etsystatic.com/il_570xN.247024341.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/74817200/super-mario-question-mark-box-printable?ref=sr_gallery_3&ga_search_submit=&ga_search_query=question+mark&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_facet=handmade">Source</a></td></tr>
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<br />
Today in church we talked about Jacob being "stunned" to once again be united with his boy Joseph because Jacob had been under the impression that over a decade or so earlier his boy had been killed by his brothers. My pastor described the Hebrew word translated "stunned" to be more akin to "experiencing a brief cardiac event" and that the word "stunned" did not give us a sufficient understanding of what Jacob was legitimately experiencing. Now, I won't be so naive or haughty as to claim that my life is a series of literal brief cardiac events per se, but sometimes I literally believe my brain stops firing neurons because its system is simply overloaded and cannot compute the breadth of thoughts passing through its circuits.<br />
<br />
Ask anyone who has ever been remotely close to me and they will testify that I am always thinking and questioning and wondering why (and that it drives them crazy!). Some see it as a waste of energy, and I have been told many times to "lighten up." There is probably some merit to that advice, but in moderation, I don't think I will die as a result of being intensely interested in life and wanting to explore the depths of thought and existence. After all, it is highly accepted and encouraged in most academic settings (shout out to all my peeps with philosophy, sociology, psychology, anthropology, and theology degrees), so why can't I, an everyday teacher-woman, don these same processes in search of something more fulfilling or at least a little bit more sensical than what I make of the world currently? I can and I will, thanks :)<br />
<br />
Seeking depth does not have to be as challenging as diving to the bottom of the deep blue sea. Obviously, that act takes loads of expensive equipment and training. True depth, in its existential meaning, comes from building trusting relationships and opening oneself a little bit at a time to come to understand the world better. The beauty of this process is that once I become a bit more fulfilled or feel like things make a bit more sense, another "existential crisis" (a term applied by my boyfriend when referring to my own "brief cardiac events") manifests in order to encourage me to begin questioning again, and the whole process begins again instantly.<br />
<br />
It is natural for humans to want more out of life. We see it play out in a perverted way within our consumerist culture as the dissatisfied grow weary of their quantities and acquire more quanitities as they seek greater fulfillment. In a more metaphorical way, as we grow older we may grow less fulfilled with our knowledge and experience, but naturally we develop an evolved understanding of the world as we gain more knowledge and a broader spectrum of experiences. We may not realize it is happening, and when we fail to acknowledge and reflect upon our gained knowledge and experience, we may not find fulfillment.<br />
<br />
I find that living intentionally in community with others is one of the most forward propelling acts of exploring fulfillment of coming to a better understanding of life's questions though the intellect and emotion. One person is incredibly individual, and yet a group of people is colossally congenial. As a direct result of living within an intentional definition of community, we can simultaneously gaze upon reflections of ourselves while attempting to stand at a variety of distinctive vantage points that may not be natural to us. Our primary lens as humans coming to understand the world better is undoubtedly through <i>one another's</i> experiences and knowledge, allowing us to develop highly informed and evolved worldviews/perspectives.<br />
<br />
This brings me to my personal community: the Christian community. Because so many spend their time and energy bashing the church and not doing anything to act out the change for which they are yearning, I want to simply explore and not bash the issues within the community. I am currently in a leadership position within my local church community and feel that I am wrestling with questions and disconnections that could use some communal thoughts. I want to see possibilities of change and specific solutions or at least questions asked in order to come to specific solutions. For each smaller community, depending on specific theology, demographics, cultures, etc, the answers to the questions look different, but I think the questions make sense and some of the answers will translate because after all, we are one unified body, the Body of Christ.<br />
<br />
<i>(see part 2)</i>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-85762031905825490852011-11-27T23:48:00.000-05:002011-11-27T23:48:22.805-05:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img3.etsystatic.com/il_570xN.193016859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://img3.etsystatic.com/il_570xN.193016859.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/61861016/a-deep-sea-diver-turned-up-in-the-tub?ref=sr_gallery_16&ga_search_submit=&ga_search_query=deep+sea+diver&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_facet=handmade">Source</a></td></tr>
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-70631298461238300612011-11-27T23:31:00.001-05:002011-11-27T23:51:27.403-05:00Depth is Not Just for Deep-Sea Divers: Part 2As I have stepped into the role of "Worship Coordinator" within my current church community, I have gained a responsibility to be intentional about the way that I interact with my church community. This is something that has always been very natural for me, so "making it official" seemed like a natural step for me. For some reason, though, the weight of this new responsibility is great. No longer am I held accountable for my own spiritual health and maybe the spiritual health of those around me in proximity. No, I am now held accountable for the spiritual health for anyone interacting with our community, especially during the communal worship service.<br />
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I am not in this alone, which is such a relief to me, but even at our staff meetings this search for community can be lost because we are under an unwritten time constraint because people naturally have other things going on in their lives. You may be inclined to believe that after attending a church for 5 years, serving in ministries within the church community, moving to the town in which the church is located, living within three blocks of at least 10 people who I would call my brothers and sisters of my church community, and serving as a leader on staff that I would feel I am reaching some point of depth with the community, but I can tell you that it is not so.<br />
<br />
I believe that somehow, as invisible and far-away as he sometimes seems, God has called me, led me, and allowed me to take those steps for some greater purpose that will be unknown wholly to me until I die. I trust that this is true because I see needs and I see my abilities line up with the potential to help meet those needs. It is very beautiful, but within the context of depth, it is also very difficult. Hope is hard to sustain within myself. I am left alone (too much! haha) with my crazy questioning brain with little or no outlet for exploring those ideas and desires and dreams.<br />
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It is no one person's fault, but I am just trying to figure out what to do with it. There is little time or space for long, deep discussions to take place because people are busy with their lives, working ridiculous amounts of tiring hours, watching their favorite TV shows, reading their favorite websites, keeping track of their favorite sports teams, researching the newest technology, and just generally being caught up in the small world that they have control over and with which they can keep up in a sense. I am equally guilty. I will confess and say that my world is made up of (in order from greatest to least) my job, my sleep, my boyfriend, my roommates/house, my facebook/internet, my church business, my music, my reading, etc.<br />
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It's funny because I don't think this is unique to my local church community. I am often involved in reading online blogs and articles written by other Christians across the nations who want to explore meaningful topics and discussions with other Christians. I am blessed by these opportunities for interaction, but I am also left disappointed when I see that people are offering the same old, cheap, pre-packaged, non-Biblical, culturally steeped answers to the deep and messy questions I am asking. Take a look at <a href="http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/relationship/features/27286-whats-the-big-deal-about-waiting-for-marriage">THIS DISCUSSION</a> and see my point. If you list the comments from newest to oldest, you may see my post and some of the questions I am asking to which no one responds. The responses above me mirror the responses below me, and none of them get to the deeper issue at hand, in my opinion. My reasonable understanding of this is that since we all come from a very similar context (age, probably race and socio-economic status, religious affiliation, etc), we all come up with very similar answers. I simply wish that there were other people involved in the discussion who could be courageous enough (or maybe experienced enough?) to look deeper, ask deeper questions, and seek deeper solutions than the insufficient, inadequate, surface-level answers they have been told at church all of their young lives.<br />
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It is so frustrating. I am craving this depth, but cannot find it in close proximity or far. I must say that I am thankful for my boyfriend who is currently studying at a school of theology because he lets me bombard him with questions and thoughts, but I would like to give the poor guy a break every once in a while. So you, reader, can help me. Here are some questions:<br />
<br />
What kind of answers does Christianity. the Bible, God himself have to offer concerning issues of sexuality? Homosexuality? Gender roles? Worship? Environmental issues? Capitalism?<br />
<br />
I realize there are multiple books written about each of these topics, so I would love recommendations if you have any. I would also love to just hear your thoughts. Feel free to comment here or facebook message me. The purpose of this blog is some attempt at communal living and learning from one another, so let's do this thing!<br />
<br />
PS- a blogger who wrote something stimulating! Yay!<br />
<a href="http://thekenosis.blogspot.com/2011/11/queer-god-for-straight-bod.html">http://thekenosis.blogspot.com/2011/11/queer-god-for-straight-bod.html</a>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-15528687902335809662011-10-20T23:05:00.000-04:002011-10-20T23:05:26.202-04:00Need to Do<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="320" src="http://images.anthropologie.com/is/image/Anthropologie/21037296_020_k?$product410x615$" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=21037296&parentid=BAYNOTE">Herringbone Boots (Source)</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Confession: I am a do-it-yourself, pull yourself up by the bootstraps, miss independent fixer. I see the need for change, and I want to do something about it. I hear the toilet running incessantly, I figure out what is loose and I tighten it. I feel like my space is empty and bland, I add some artwork or colorful pillows and blankets. I feel stressed by the uncleanliness of my bedroom, I clean it up and organize.<br />
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This can be a great trait to possess, until I try working with others. Throughout my schooling, I have always struggled with knowing how to work on group projects and the like. I like things to be done the way I do them, which is usually thoroughly, efficiently, and effectively. I have a hard time leaving space for others to offer their ideas because it is easy to do it myself and get it done as quickly as possible. I like to have control and know that things will be the best they can be according to me. Try applying this trait now not just to working with others in the short-term but also the long-term, like long-term friends, roommates, or boyfriends...yeah, it gets messy.<br />
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I find myself wanting to fix all of those people, too. I see their stress, I hear about their pain, I sense their frustration or unhappiness, and I want everything in the world to make it right. I am still trying to decide if my motivation is driven by my care for them or by my desire to ease the discomfort of being around people who are upset. Hopefully it is at least a mixture of the two. The important thing to note, though, is that either way there is just not that much I can do to make those situations better or to fix them. I cannot keep a person from feeling or thinking what they think or feel. I cannot offer an attempt to understand unless they are willing to help me understand. I cannot force conversation or laughs. I cannot help people sleep or heal their illnesses. I struggle so much with knowing what to do, and that's because those situations cannot be solved by the rules of a doer.<br />
<br />
Relationships often offer me an opportunity to learn to be. Instead of doing, being requires listening, sitting, hugging, words of empathy, moments of silent affirmation, stepping back when I just want to step further in... it's a seemingly passive role that is hard for a doer like myself to adopt. I think I have the ability to sense when someone is off, when someone is having a bad day or a bad moment, and whether that is a blessing or a curse, not being able to do something to fix that off moment is maddening for me. It's best that a doer, however, learn to adopt the role of the be-er (not of the alcoholic persuasion, of course). Sometimes the best thing I can do is simply be present for someone and support them in that way.<br />
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You know, now that I think about it and apply the doer attitude to other things in the world, I do kind of grow weary of people exhibiting the extreme, revolutionary sort of attitude. It takes a lot of energy to be a doer and sustain that go-and-do attitude all the time. Trying to actively change the world for the better is often exhausting and sometimes blinding. It's important, too, to note that people's struggles need not always be fixed or eased despite the natural inclination for things to be as such. There is something to be said for being uncomfortable or struggling (although I certainly do not write off reconciliation, redemption, and the like). Often those situations are the ones where we learn the most, and denying someone that learning experience for my own comfort's sake is clearly not fair. I hope that I can continue to understand what kind of posture I can assume as a be-er in order to learn to be the most caring, selfless, and supportive friend to those I love. That is my desire, and I hope that I can be shown some of the same compassion and grace in my attempt to form that identity of understanding. I think my counselor would cite my need to practice "radical acceptance," and I think that hits the proverbial nail on the proverbial head.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-19843437999276622712011-09-25T21:29:00.001-04:002011-09-25T21:30:31.932-04:00To Live<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>a poem (aka an e<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">xcuse to post beautiful pictures from my past e</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">xperiences while reflecting on images evoked by words)</span></b></div>
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I want to live a life that pops and bursts with life and color, boldness and passion.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-20SRZDIkjCE/Tn_TfTR1AAI/AAAAAAAAAVI/MSkSUZP9uRw/s1600/DSCF2312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-20SRZDIkjCE/Tn_TfTR1AAI/AAAAAAAAAVI/MSkSUZP9uRw/s320/DSCF2312.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I want to live in peace and comfort, knowing that I am safe.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--HU43i8tn54/Tn_Tb0ghpdI/AAAAAAAAAVE/u5RXYVCtaEI/s1600/Killruddery+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--HU43i8tn54/Tn_Tb0ghpdI/AAAAAAAAAVE/u5RXYVCtaEI/s320/Killruddery+2.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I want to live a life that's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">comple<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">x but complete, beautiful but not necessarily tidy.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mHRJhFsjTBM/Tn_TLaYNCSI/AAAAAAAAAU0/4aoyui6XsW4/s1600/DSCF2426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mHRJhFsjTBM/Tn_TLaYNCSI/AAAAAAAAAU0/4aoyui6XsW4/s320/DSCF2426.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I want to live as one who steps slowly, feeding my senses, taking all things in and moving in ways of harmony with my world.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AQNxl9RxsqE/Tn_TtsQJB7I/AAAAAAAAAVY/LONEH2fL6dI/s1600/DSCF2832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AQNxl9RxsqE/Tn_TtsQJB7I/AAAAAAAAAVY/LONEH2fL6dI/s320/DSCF2832.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nnC9vv_rAH8/Tn_TnBsZm1I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/2-thLiixcyI/s1600/P9110090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nnC9vv_rAH8/Tn_TnBsZm1I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/2-thLiixcyI/s320/P9110090.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I want to live with relinquished control but power to choose and change.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TXhqgJFrl3w/Tn_S9SMep-I/AAAAAAAAAUk/o261agzo1HI/s1600/image-preview+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TXhqgJFrl3w/Tn_S9SMep-I/AAAAAAAAAUk/o261agzo1HI/s320/image-preview+%25287%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I want to live with laughter, tears, and blood-- the ability to feel and simply know.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AfC4pT6NGU8/Tn_S-nl2TFI/AAAAAAAAAUo/7hhmV6BdZ-s/s1600/image-preview+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AfC4pT6NGU8/Tn_S-nl2TFI/AAAAAAAAAUo/7hhmV6BdZ-s/s320/image-preview+%25285%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I want to live within myself while caring for those outside.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NSrbK6NOH40/Tn_TDL2e4JI/AAAAAAAAAUw/EEHrlv_7_GA/s1600/image-preview+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NSrbK6NOH40/Tn_TDL2e4JI/AAAAAAAAAUw/EEHrlv_7_GA/s320/image-preview+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I want to live like my desires are a part of something bigger and better than myself.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7y_U0OGYEZw/Tn_TqIwvPSI/AAAAAAAAAVU/DtEl-3APOJY/s1600/DSCF1825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7y_U0OGYEZw/Tn_TqIwvPSI/AAAAAAAAAVU/DtEl-3APOJY/s320/DSCF1825.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8rJJyPTjenc/Tn_TUz9FvrI/AAAAAAAAAU8/bon7BK8wDOs/s1600/DSCF1941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8rJJyPTjenc/Tn_TUz9FvrI/AAAAAAAAAU8/bon7BK8wDOs/s320/DSCF1941.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I want to live so that I can die and leave behind all the things that hold me back.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QH8hibGenC0/Tn_TYa31PHI/AAAAAAAAAVA/JJ3KGcEa-a4/s1600/Killruddery+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QH8hibGenC0/Tn_TYa31PHI/AAAAAAAAAVA/JJ3KGcEa-a4/s320/Killruddery+1.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">To live is to die, and to die is gain.</span></span>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-25334941530565670412011-09-16T21:30:00.001-04:002011-09-16T21:33:02.688-04:00The Same Dark StreetI am sitting in my loft bedroom in our creaky old big red house. My window, stuffed with an AC unit no longer in use thanks to the chilly night air, has two slots on the side that let in the breeze and sounds of the night as it falls upon the dark streets and the alley outside my window. I sit in my wooden desk chair, lightly strumming my guitar, as I hear the faint voice of a boy maybe ten or twelve years old crying out for his mom. I hear the voice come closer and become louder as I visualize the boy walking down the alley searching and confused. The boy's voice crescendos and then decrescendos as he passes our house. I think little of it because often our neighbor kids will wander the streets nearby, and I assume it must be one of them. I resume my work, playing and singing and searching online for song lyrics. A few minutes later I hear a man's voicing crying out into the darkness for a boy-- "Levi?... Levi!......Levi!" No answer. It must have been only a short time after that I hear a woman's voice, "Levi? Levi?? Levi!"<br />
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I can't help but know in my heart the panic that, just minutes before, filled their boy as he had been walking the same dark street searching for them as well. My mind races with thoughts and guilt. What is happening that the boy would be separated from his parents? What if I had been on my porch instead in my third floor bedroom? Would I have offered him to come sit with me until his parents came looking? I would like to think so, but my thoughts offer me no comfort anyway. The boy is lost and his parents cannot find where he has gone to. About an hour passes, and I hear nothing more. My thoughts of the situation fade as I continue working. Another half hour or so later, I again hear the mother's voice in the distance from another direction still calling out the boy's name... I pray to God that their paths cross. Thanks to the dark alleyway outside my window, I have been a strange observer of this situation, and I will never know of it's conclusion.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-35806351684986159542011-08-10T21:02:00.001-04:002011-08-10T21:03:05.002-04:00A Day In The LifeToday--<br />
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I was planning on meeting up with a friend after work to chat. I just had to hop on the highway and go up a few miles to meet with her. No big deal. So I thought. She got off work around the same time I did, but she was much closer to the destination than I was. I told her it would take me a while to get there, but she was willing to wait (such a lovely friend!).<br />
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I got into my car after work and tried to decide the fastest way to get to the interstate when I noticed I was nearly out of gas. I decided to drive a different way in order to check the price of the lowest-priced gas station on my side of town. When I got there I did not have my wallet. I needed to go get my wallet from my apartment. Awesome-- add a few more minutes to the trip. I get to my apartment and grab my wallet, head out to the fastest route to the interstate from my apartment. I did not head back to the cheap gas station because it was out of the way, but I knew there were a few gas stations near the interstate exit, and honestly, I could probably make the drive up without getting gas. I headed that way, only to find that the interstate was severely backed up (probably an accident because traffic wasn't that bad anywhere else that early in the evening). I decided to turn around, and on the road that I turned onto, there was a Shell station. Perfect, I'll hop out and get some gas (add a few more minutes onto the trip).<br />
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I head back toward my apartment to take a different route north, thinking that I would be alright finding my way. There was a bit of traffic up that road, but I finally reach the street I think I am supposed to be on, but I am second-guessing myself. I try reaching under my seat for my GPS, but I cannot reach it. I figured I would just trust myself and go the way I thought was correct, all the time building up my anxiety (unfortunate natural response to situations like this, especially when someone is waiting on me). I drive for a while on this road and feel like it could be the wrong way, but I drive a bit further until I reach another familiar road. Do I turn there? So I did. Nope, it didn't feel right and the scenery seemed off. I got back on the original road I had turned on, but pulled off to find my GPS just to make sure that I was finally going the right way.<br />
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I sat in the parking lot of Burger King waiting for my GPS to load and I started searching for the mall at which we had decided to meet. I search for the restaurant first. No luck. I search for a restaurant that is near the one we are meeting at. No luck. I search for the mall in which they are both located. You guessed it...no luck. The mall is pretty new, so my GPS must not be up-to-date on that stuff. It also showed that I was driving through cornfields. So yah. Add some more minutes to the trip... I decided to just keep driving in the direction that my intuition was telling me was the right way. Finally, after a search for the interstate I was heading toward, I see the mall in the distance. Again, GPS was not helping, but I had finally reached my destination...an hour after I got off work. It should have been 20 minutes max. I am thankful to have wonderful understanding friends, but man I was so stressed because I left her waiting. And I hate that.<br />
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My life is characterized by these moments. Unfortunately, I can't always plan for moments like these. The only solution is to learn to stay calm and try to keep from letting my anxiety control me. Unlearning this habit is hard, but I'm getting better.<br />
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In other news, I had a great time with my friend. :)Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-88972652821565216102011-08-08T22:35:00.002-04:002011-08-08T22:40:44.963-04:00Summer Music Marathon Continues!<b>5. Bon Iver at the Murat Theatre, Indianapolis</b><br />
As many musicians morph from freshman to sophomore album releases, Justin Vernon, the lead of Bon Iver, has taken a bit of a musical journey over the stretch of his first two albums and EP in between. His first album is a folky exposee of life and relationships while his second full-length is an electronic-folk rock exploration piece. His EP is a mixture of the two, a perfect bridge built to help us understand how he got from point A to point B.<br />
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I was introduced to Bon Iver's music when I was in college and it had been announced that our Integration of Faith and Culture club was sponsoring a concert in which he was performing. I listened to a song or two on myspace before the night of the concert to get myself acquainted with what I heard was brilliant music. I really fell in love with Vernon's simplistic yet profound musicality at the concert, and I bought his album <i>For Emma Forever Ago </i>there. I listened to that album probably for months on end-- in my car, in my dorm room, etc. Vernon's lyricism, although at times nonsensical, was poetic and enchanting along with his bluesy falsetto.<br />
<br />
:D<br />
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When Bon Iver's EP <i>Blood Bank </i> was announced, I was very excited and ready for some fresh music from Vernon's genuis. But when I listened, some songs struck the right chords for me, and others, specifically songs with more electronic elements, did not. Generally, I am a sucker for a more organic sound, so I had a hard time engaging fully with the EP.<br />
<br />
:/<br />
<br />
I stumbled across an announcement of Bon Iver's second album leaking over the internet, and a friend of mine provided without my prompting. I may not have chosen to invest in <i>Bon Iver, Bon Iver, </i>but since I received it as a gift of sorts, I loaded it into my library and gave it a few spins. I felt similarly about Vernon's sophomore album as I did about the EP.<br />
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:(<br />
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The album collected virtual dust as it sat in my iTunes library for a month or so. I received notification of Bon Iver's scheduled performance in Indy, and marked it on my calendar as a possibility. Having seen Bon Iver at Taylor for ten bucks and being blown away, I knew that I had no need to top that experience, but what's one more concert tacked on the list for my Summer Music Marathon? One of my friends contacted me with a special proposition-- the possibility of a free ticket to the show. If that worked out, I was in for sure, but if not, I wouldn't morn the loss of a mediocre electronic folk rock show. Meanwhile, I brushed up on the new album just in case.<br />
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You may have gleaned the outcome of this proposition-- the tickets worked out and I headed downtown for the show! The opening act was The Rosebuds, whose music was good but did not stir anything deep in me. I honestly was just pretty anxious to see if my expectations of Bon Iver would be true or proven false. I expected it to be similar to the three-part band set that I saw in college, but with Justin Vernon playing synth instead of his rusty resonator. After the opener, there was a bit of an intermission so the stage could be stripped and set for the main act. I didn't take much notice of the instruments and the set up until Bon Iver took the stage and everyone stood up from their seats (to absorb the sound waves I imagine).<br />
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Vernon stood in the center of the stage-- to his left were two men playing trumpet/synth and trombone/auxiliary percussion. To his right were two guitarist/violin/vocalists. Directly behind him were two saxophone players, one of which played the bass as well. On either side of those men was a drummer, one who was also a vocalist (aka S. Carey). Vernon had brought his eight-piece band along-- far from the "guy and his two friends" context I had seen him in at Taylor for ten bucks. Their opening two songs blew me away, so much so that I can't even remember what they were. I had to process a ton during the show since I was not the most familiar with their latest stuff and since the arrangement of even familiar songs was unfamiliar (and just plain beautiful). I love music that has layers and interesting elements-- it engages my musical mind, makes me think and process. Sgt. Justin's Bon Iver Band did just that for me. There was enough going on to keep me captivated without being overwhelmed. The band rocked, and they rocked hard and loud, but they did so with intricate sensitivity, a good amount of precision, and lots of heart and soul.<br />
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Since the show, I have actually enjoyed listening to the new album and the EP. It is amazing to me how much of an effect a live performance can have on one's perception of an album. An album is such a static thing-- it is recorded one way and heard that way forever. Being able to see/hear a live performance of music that is largely known through a certain recording can be enlightening, offering a new perspective. I found this to be true for me. My experience with seeing Bon Iver perform live transformed my view of their recorded pieces. I am glad that I have a deeper appreciation of Bon Iver's latest works because I really did want to be able to give them that chance.<br />
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Highlights of the show include the surprisingly high average age of the audience (majority ranging from 27-33 I would say), the auxiliary percussion/trombone-player breaking out in some sick beats with his mouth (that man can apparently do anything), and the man down the row doing jazz hands at random moments during the show. Funny story here. And by funny, I mean I was a total jerk. I saw this guy and was very confused, even amused, by his outward expression of joy at unique moments. I poked fun to my friend who laughed along with me. A few minutes later, my friend looks at me with the horror of embarassment... "He's deaf!" "What?!" "He's deaf! I have like 4 cousins who are deaf and that is the sign for applause!" "......Oh my gosh.......I am a horrible person! Also, that makes no sense!" After feeling really terrible myself, I also mustered up some anger toward the people in front of us who also had noticed our jazzy friend and proceeded to poke fun as well. That is until I saw our jazzy deaf friend talking to his concert buddy...wait, deaf people don't generally talk, right? And if they do, they are usually signing while they speak... Alright, I didn't feel so bad anymore. The guy really was just doing some jazz hands out of pure excitement. He was expressing what we were all feeling, though, to be completely honest.<br />
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Overall concert experience= 4 out of 5...top notch for sure.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-45112138804186216692011-08-03T18:50:00.004-04:002011-08-04T20:10:04.431-04:00Taking Some Time to Catch Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Besides my last post about life's sometimes <a href="http://tang-a-rang.blogspot.com/2011/07/address-mess.html">crazy pace</a>, it's been a while since I have written on here. I have a lot to write about because of that very fact! In the past month, I have attended three concerts, celebrated a birthday (23), got a sweet hairdo, traveled to a few different states, and landed a job, among other events!<br />
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But let's back track about a month from today...(cue Wayne's World dream sequence...)<br />
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<b>4. Florence and the Machine, The Lawn at White River State Park (<a href="http://tang-a-rang.blogspot.com/2010/06/in-light-of-upcoming-festivities.html">Independence Day!</a>)</b><br />
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I have to admit, the reason I bought tickets to this concert is because I thought it would be fun to get a group of people together and go downtown for the night. The plan seemed great-- good friends, go out for dinner, watch the concert, watch the fireworks on the canal. Things were a bit off-kilter-- traffic was killer, parking was crazy, and we got down there too late to get food. I was cranky, and standing in line for the concert was too hot, but we got good seats and ate food in the venue. Paying concert venue prices for food is better than starving, but still not fun. Our seats were in a great position on the right side of the stage. That is until the sun started setting and shining straight in our faces. Other than the heat and the sunshine (which I will hardly complain about, really), the venue was great.<br />
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The opening act for the show shall remain nameless, mostly because I don't remember his name, but also because we spent most of the set condemning his boring hard rock strumming and unnecessarily dirty distortion. At one point, too, he stopped to tune his guitar and actually made it more out of tune. We tried to find good things...really we did. There were some melodies that were actually quite interesting, and some of his chords progressions were fresh, but generally his music sounded pretty generic (i.e. Nickelback). His style of music was just nothing that any of us were interested in. There were quite a few fans, though, that cheered for him, so I was glad that he got some lovin' from the crowd. His drummer was really awesome, and the drums also sounded crisp and full (which would unfortunately change when the mainstage act came out).<br />
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Florence and the Machine came out after a quick stage change-- a beautiful tapestry of a bird was dropped and the smoke machine turned on while the majority of the musicians (minus Flo herself) came out to start playing. I loved seeing a harp player and was looking forward to hearing some of those Florence and the Machine rhythms played on properly-microphoned drums. The concert began as most do-- with a building intro to a familiar song. Then, Florence makes her way to the front of the stage, flitting around in a...yellow sheer dress with wings?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Florence Welch performs with her indie pop band Florence and the Machine at the Lawn at White River State Park on Monday, July 4, 2011. Since she was discovered singing in a pub in London, Welch has earned worldwide mainstream recognition. Olivia Corya/ The Star" height="280" src="http://photos.indystar.com/photos/2011/7/4/497078/show_big.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.goodsearch.com/Image.aspx?imgurl=http://photos.indystar.com/photos/2011/7/4/497078/show_big.jpg&thurl=http://ts4.mm.bing.net/images/thumbnail.aspx?q=1090749671075&id=b9201befa19ab35c081799e5ca0b563b&rurl=http://photos.indystar.com/photos/497078&tt=93&no=15&name=...%20band%20florence%20and%20the%20machine%20at%20the%20lawn%20at%20white%20river%20state%20park&w=710&h=498&size=NaN&type=jpeg">Source</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/TheLawnatWhiteRiverStatePark">Source</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/TheLawnatWhiteRiverStatePark">Source</a><br /></td></tr>
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She looked a bit like a lost canary, but her singing voice was one of a sorrowful warbler, lilting but strongly confident. After her first song, Florence offered a welcome in her delicate London-accented speaking voice, in contrast to her singing voice. Although the power of the drums was lost and you couldn't even really hear the keys, the music was fun. Some musical highlights of the night included familiar songs like "Cosmic Love," "Dog Days Are Over," and "Between Two Lungs." Between songs, Florence gently and politely called for a drink and explained that her mother is American, which means she would be proud that Florence was spending July 4th in the US. After that chat, the drummer started a marching beat, and I thought for sure she was going to sing "America the Beautiful" or some patriotic hymn, but instead she broke out in "Amazing Grace." Wait, isn't that song written by a British guy...?<br />
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Other highlights for our group in particular that night were finally eating food, singing a refrain of what sounded like "Praise the Lord," (actually singing "Raise it up"), watching and imitating the girls in front of us as they danced to the beat of their own drum all night long, switching seats to relieve one another from the sun's rays, and finally sitting on the cool canal to watch the fireworks. We weren't all super familiar with the music of Florence and the Machine coming into the show, but we enjoyed the choruses we could sing and dance with. There were plenty of people there who knew every word and danced like they were getting paid to inspire. We had a blast even though most of our laughs came from the ridiculousness of the whole night, but having fun was the goal, so I call the night a success. Concert itself gets 2.75 out of 5.<br />
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The day after the concert, I left to hang out with my family for vacation in Georgia. On said trip, I drank some good beer with my dad, got stung by a jellyfish, had the freshest shrimp I have ever tasted, laid in the sun too long, played a reggae version of a Blink 182 song with my brother, and dined and danced a jig in the streets of Savannah to celebrate my birthday. All in all, it was a great trip, despite having to get up at 3am to head back to Indy. See my past post about my <a href="http://tang-a-rang.blogspot.com/2011/07/peculiar-needs-of-people.html">airport experiences</a> on that trip.<br />
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Tune in later this week for my experiences with the Fleet Foxes at the Pageant Theater in St. Louis, Bon Iver at the Murat Theatre in Indy, and maybe a few more special shows after that! :)</div>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-37376431705450669212011-07-27T20:40:00.002-04:002011-07-27T20:48:05.310-04:00Address the MessSo, my life is a mess.<br />
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It seems like these moments culminate unexpectedly even though I can often feel them building. I slowly realize that I am spreading myself too thin and just barely making it on my own while seemingly pleasing those around me without being completely open and honest (because I don't seem to have the time or energy to do so). Then it all backfires, and I am stuck wanting to just sleep all day because I don't know what else to do to make it right. Or I know what to do but I am overwhelmed by the simple thought of it.<br />
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It's funny that during these times, my surroundings sort of mirror my internal state. My room has been in shambles for weeks, every week getting a bit worse. I like having space and being clean, but it's usually the last thing on my list of priorities. Daily life often catches up to me and cleaning doesn't always fit in the day-to-day.<br />
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So here I am, lying on he carpeted floor of my room between piles upon piles of books, receipts, bags, teaching supplies, and half-packed boxes while writing this post. I have about three concert updates I want to write for you guys, but those will have to be put on hold at least until I can clean up some of the mess. I think I will have to start with my heart, though, instead of my room, which means its time for some journaling. Not for you to see, though. Sorry :)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wishing for this escape right about now. Greystones Harbour, Ireland</td></tr>
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-84601109341526058932011-07-11T21:11:00.001-04:002011-07-11T21:22:38.788-04:00The Peculiar Needs of People<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ccSom3CE6xE/Thuhk5oozqI/AAAAAAAAAUE/MHp2CWxVVLM/s1600/US.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ccSom3CE6xE/Thuhk5oozqI/AAAAAAAAAUE/MHp2CWxVVLM/s400/US.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun illunstration of the US by <a href="http://www.etsy.com/people/falldowntree?ref=ls_profile">falldowntree</a></td></tr>
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There are a few places in the world where you can spend most of your time running casual sociological and anthropological studies. Those places are where the worlds of diverse races, cultures, classes, and ages are forced to temporarily merge. In my recent travels to and from a pretty great vacation with my family on Tybee Island, GA, I passed through airports in Indianapolis, Charlotte NC, and Savannah GA. Every time I find myself in an airport, I remember how huge the world is and how different people are. Millions of a people a day go through airports all heading different directions with different purposes, carrying a variety of baggage (literally and figuratively). I overhear conversations that exhibit a variety of emotions and expectations. I see how people react to stress (airports experiences hardly ever go as planned).<br />
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The attendants working at airports especially interest me because they are often very professional, almost impersonal, despite the fact that they primarily work with people. On my trip back from GA, I had to get to the airport around 4:30 to check-in for my 5:30 flight. (Note to self, airports don't really open until about 5am.) While waiting for the desk to open, I realized that not only was I tired and completely inconvenienced by the time of day but the other people waiting with me were feeling the same way. As the desk clerk came out of a mysterious door in the wall behind the desk, he yawned at every computer he had to turn on while he prepared the desk for customers. I realized that the desk clerk, too, probably was not excited to be at the airport at 4:30 to serve tired and grumpy customers waiting for a plane that had just been delayed 45 more minutes. I wanted to ask him if he ever gets used to getting up that early for work each day, because I know that I never would. His yawns lead me to believe he would agree with me. He politely printed off my boarding tickets without making any conversation, and I was on my way!...to wait some more for the security gates to open...haha<br />
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But after I survived the Savannah airport and arrived in Charlotte, I realized I had been moved to a flight that was leaving two hours later than my original flight, so I went to Starbucks, got some coffee, ate a granola bar, and sat in the food court area of my gate to read. I watched many people around me, listened to some couples freak out about possibly missing their flight if they moved to an earlier one, and saw an eccentric family gobble down Burger King breakfast food while they joked and the teenagers listened to their iPods to tune them out. I also saw some airport workers interacting with one another and with the people working the food counters.<br />
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I had never thought about it before, but people who work at airports (even the ones who direct the planes to their "parking spots," as my pilot would say) interact with one another in the same way I would interact with my co-workers. They are friends with people in other departments of the airport. They joke around with one another and have fun relating to one another because even though their jobs are different, they all work in the same environment of people coming and going, and I'm sure they desire some permanent relationships and personal interactions.<br />
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Flight attendants and pilots seem to be a bit of a community in and of themselves as well. Usually they are working with people who are based in the same city or region as they are, so they get to know one another a bit. They seem to have lots of inside jokes, which is fun to think about. I bet they see a lot of interesting things in their day to day flights. It seems like they have fewer personal interactions with people, and I imagine that sometimes the days are lonely, but they do have one another. I sat in the back of the plane for my last flight from Charlotte to Indy, and the flight attendant's seat was right next to our seats. I was sitting by the window (being the akward girl who says two words to the nice woman sitting next to her), and the woman next to me was inquiring about applying to be a flight attendant. I got to hear a bit more about the life of a flight attendant, and the man was actually very passionate about the job as he had been doing it for 17 years. One can only wonder about his life outside of flying, though. Does he have a spouse or kids or family that he sees when he goes home? Is it possible to maintain those relationships in a job like that?<br />
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When I am traveling through airports, I try to remind myself often that airport employees are people with these relational needs and that they are people who often get mistreated by travelers like me who want things to go their way and go as smoothly as possible. My flight from Charlotte to Indy got moved from gate to gate, and the new gate was a double gate (didn't know that existed until then). The woman who was working the gate seemed pretty stressed as she organized passengers for two flights, one of which had been transferred to her gate last minute, scheduled to leave 5 minutes apart from the other at the same gate. I saw some passengers get frustrated, and I saw her react in frustration to some innocent passengers as well. I felt bad for her, and I made sure I thanked her for all her hard work as she scanned my boarding pass right before I walked to our plane. She looked me in the eye and thanked me as well. Although a smile never flashed across her face, I could tell that she greatly appreciated that someone noticed her and affirmed her when most of what she was receiving were furrowed brows and confused glances.<br />
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Although airport employees have many frustrating interactions with passengers, they seem to have a great time with one another because they have some basis of relationship: consistent personal interactions. It's a community. Personal interactions are the main things that are lacking when you travel alone. I felt that as a traveler myself. Passengers are in an awkward situation because they are uncomfortably closely surrounded by people they potentially have nothing in common with outside of the fact that they are traveling.<br />
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I'm sure many of you have had the experience of sitting next to someone you don't know on a plane. Sometimes you get the ridiculously chatty lady who talks about all her kids as if you wanted to know their purposes in life having never met them. Other times you get that cordial "hello" from that polite but reserved business man who fiddles with his iPhone in his attempt to avoid conversation. Other times you get the woman who says nothing to you and doesn't make eye contact with you because she is sitting across the aisle from someone she does know and has no need to reach further than that. The rarest times are when you end up next to an empty seat. My first flight from Indy to Charlotte was this way, and I was relieved to stretch out and make myself as comfortable as possible.<br />
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I learned so much about people, myself included, in the few hours time that I spent traveling through airports. People do not like being uncomfortable. Depending on the circumstances, they employ professionalism, cordial conversation, and simple isolation to handle the discomfort. I think discomfort is something our society has learned to avoid in general, so these interactions in airports are even more interesting because of that. People are peculiar, especially when they rub elbows with people who are different and unfamiliar. For myself, I aspire to be one who embraces discomfort for the sake of building relationships, even if those relationships last for only one moment or one flight. People are beautiful and messy, and ignoring that is plain dishonesty. Coming to terms and interacting with that fact can be an opportunity to give and receive a bit of interpersonal love. I like the idea of that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0flDutwi8Zg/ThuczAxibwI/AAAAAAAAAUA/EHGuxzkDLr8/s1600/vacay+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0flDutwi8Zg/ThuczAxibwI/AAAAAAAAAUA/EHGuxzkDLr8/s400/vacay+pic.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050562887456317219.post-50830587279100624662011-07-03T17:52:00.003-04:002011-08-03T18:55:44.512-04:00Summer Music Marathon: Concert #3<b>3. The Civil Wars at The Earth House</b><br />
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Coming into this show I had pretty high expectations for a number of reasons. In listening to The Civil Wars' first live album <i>Live at Eddie's Attic</i> before they were really known and publicized in media, I had come to love their humor, their lyrical commentaries on relationship, and their vocal precision. I never fell completely in love with their sound as many have, but they captured my attention and have been garnering quite a bit of attention from some respected music forums and media such as iTunes, Paste Magazine, NPR, and even the Christian cultural commentator, Relevant Magazine. I watched The Civil Wars perform on NPR's YouTube channel a few days ago to prepare myself for their show, and was blown away by their dynamics and energy. As a friend and I discussed, it's hard to believe that their relationship is solely professional because they exhibit such a high amount of chemistry during their performances. Here's that video for your viewing pleasure:<br />
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Joy Williams is definitely the performer personality of the duo. I'm guessing this is largely due to her past career performing as a dynamic CCM (Contemporary Christian Music) musician. It felt to me like she was putting on an act that was a little hard to break through and relate to. <br />
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On the other hand, I gather that John Paul White is by nature a bit more laid-back and introverted, as is expected from most good song-writers--it seems as though a certain type of personality expresses him or herself better through a musical means than simple person-to-person interaction...maybe I am drawing false conclusions here, but that's my perception. I wish he would step out more and share the spotlight equally with Joy, but there's so much more about Joy on the surface that captures people's attention. John Paul deserves more credit! This is true also for the interviews with The Civil Wars that I have read as well. In the Christian media realm, people are often very interested in Joy's "switch" from CCM to "secular" music, while John Paul White just gets a few blurbs about his musical influences and such. I'm interested in getting to know his background more than media people are allowing me.<br />
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But I have digressed, as I often do. I'm off my soapbox.<br />
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Some observations from the concert:<br />
A. Their dynamics (as seen in the NPR video) were lacking a bit during this show. It felt almost a bit awkward, like Joy was trying to interact with John Paul White, but he wasn't responding as much or interacting with the audience as much. Maybe he wasn't feeling well. One can only speculate.<br />
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B. Joy smiles so much. Like she knows something that you don't know. Like there's something that lies farther beneath the melancholy melodies, bringing everything to light. It made me feel weird. Like she almost was being untrue to the nature of the songs, but it was enchanting. Her ballerina-like hand gestures attract and allure along with her voice, sometimes serving as a distraction.<br />
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It was interesting to me that Joy's vocal expression still seems very much rooted in her experience singing pop music, even in the context of John Paul White's country guitar riffs. Don't get me wrong, her voice is her gift. She slides up and down her wide range with ease, has amazingly compelling tone-quality to her voice, and she can belt out very powerfully, but it's just something about the breathy whispers or the way her syllables are shaped/exaggerated that bothers me a little. That's me being <i>really</i> picky though. Vocals are often the main thing I listen to when I hear music, especially music like this where vocals are the main focus of their song-writing.<br />
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C. John Paul White's song-writing skills are very compelling, and his variety of guitars on stage made up for the variety of timbres that a band backing would offer them. He had a hollow-bodied electric, acoustic-electric, resonator, nylon-stringed acoustic, and one other. Joy also played a bit of piano and accordion, which was exciting for me. I like a bit of variety, especially when their two opening acts were also melancholic acoustic guitar sing-songwriter types.<br />
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D. My favorite songs of the night were both Michael Jackson covers-- <i>I Want You Back </i>and <i>Billie Jean</i>-- and <i>Barton Hollow</i> and <i>Poison and Wine</i>. The second opener, Ryland Baxter, also played some pretty poignant and witty songs that I enjoyed.<br />
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E. The Earth House is a cool smaller venue in Indianapolis housed in an old church building. They have a sizeable coffee shop (with a sizeable line of people in front of the counter) downstairs, and the old sanctuary (I'm guessing) has been completely cleared of pews and hymnals in order for people to stand and enjoy whatever musical act might grace the altar/stage. The pace of this show was definitely conducive to chairs, especially having two acoustic opener acts, but standing didn't kill us. I'll tell you what almost did kill us though-- the people who we squeezed around to get closer to the stage. They weren't very nice. The crowd was pretty different than I expected-- a lot of yuppies, college students, and a good amount of middle-agers.<br />
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Although I left with a back-ache, numb feet, and a sweat-soaked shirt, the concert was still really fun. Seeing quality music live is hardly ever a disappointment. Overall, I give this concert experience a 3.75 out of 5.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16715954028681785376noreply@blogger.com0