no longer young and not that pretty how will he ever find me

light

2012-02-08T22:51:00.000-08:00

tears run down my cheek in a baptism of sorts. i relive losses and gains in the flickering of cinema or the hum of a guitar. these truths strike like flint to stone shooting across my night sky illuminating everything for a few minor seconds. the demons rage on sticking their grubby and gnarled fingers in the holes of my framing. for a few hours they have the power to make me eat dark and wormy things before light breaks through the bullshit and darkness. the words of a man whom i will never know on this sphere of life offer much needed encouragement, bringing hope the wellspring of life.

Class Notes- Artist, Cinema, & Theology in dialogue

2012-02-07T21:45:00.001-08:00

Just wanted to share some rough thoughts from my class response journal for this week....

I was struck in our conversation this week about how art is looked at shifts and changes depending on the time period and way we see. I was intrigued by Barry’s statement that in contemporary art we don’t know where or how to look. I would agree with this statement, and would ask/add to it that I think we might lost in part our ability to allude and create multi-layer pieces like Vermeer or other artists of the past who were more restricted in what was acceptable. What I mean is that many, not all, but many artists today (this is across all art-forms not just limited to a specific) just use the most direct means of expression. I find that often it is more about how much can I shock my audience and out do the other people around me that how can I create something artistically solid and thought provoking. Often I find myself board with much of the art I encounter because it doesn’t challenge me or cause me to mull over it, often if lucky it is entertainment that offers a moment of distraction. I say this being one who consumes music, film, and books on a regular basis. There are artists and pieces of art that hold my attention but much of it feels like open mic nights where out of the whole evening it’s a good night if one poet or musician offers a piece that sticks with me and is something that I can’t hold, impresses me or blows me out of the water because of it’s depth. One of my dear friends who is a writer/poet has a poem with a simple premise about the need for more love, every time I hear her read it I am mesmerized by the fun and creative way she has constructed and played with words and images to express this. Her piece is art that is powerful and engaging…but often at least one of the other poets or musicians who read with her at an open mic night are just speaking to hear their own voice…it’s like they took a bunch of images that they thought were cool and moved them around on the page until they looked like something of weight and important not realizing the vapidness of their construction.

2012-02-05T23:48:00.000-08:00

i can not begin to say the things that are sitting on my heart...words fail to convey the depth and impact of these emotions. nothing feels quite right in the ability to relay the swirling cocktail that has drenched my mind. an alcohol soaked brain would be better than what i seem to have to work with tonight.

the tears sit just at the back of the room waiting for the slight crack that will allow for their escape. i clamp the mouth shut so afraid to speak lest i say something that has no foundation in truth instead just the emotional excess of this bout with hormones. how did i go from movement to crazy town in a manner of weeks. where did jealousy and anger and desire come from when i clearly locked them out of the room.

i need a wild drunken night, a pot filled haze something to erase what is too close to my heart. but no that will not do so i paste the smile on, shove the contempt deeper down in my heart, make jokes about the fact that only losers and married men find anything about me compelling and run away under my books and work and stress.

and in soft and fleeting midnight breaths i accept that i have fallen in love again with a man who is incapable of loving me back. down the wrong rabbit hole i have fallen unable to see the fun one from the one filled with spikes and old wounds revisited.

so comes the crazy because falling in love sucks and falling in love with someone who can't love you really sucks but what sucks most is realizing that you should have been able to avoid this particular fall and yet you didn't and don't and will fall again and again until something changes.

missed chances...

2012-02-05T18:11:00.000-08:00

sometimes you just need the touch of naked skin against yours. kisses from one who understand intuitively the perfect way in which you desire to be kissed. there are nights when alone just won't cut it at all, the hands are not as strong as the desire to be had...chocolate, cigarettes and alcohol are illusionary stays that have long lost their power. and the need is so great that it terrorizes you with a ever present onslaught of the most vivid and erotic dreams. you play scene of past lovers over again just to fix the out come because somewhere back there you got lost while playing it safe. on couches and hotel beds you held back because of that damned fear of repercussions not realizing that the repercussions of not were way worst than those of action. if could i would take back that night where i sat passively waiting like the maiden for that lover to woo me, instead like the vixen i would instead have stripped and boldly walked filling his frame of view like guinevere. and that other who i taunted so i would and should have shown him my treasure of gold. all those stories may still have ended the same but at least i would not hold regret like a cold flame.

lost again

2012-02-05T18:03:00.000-08:00

Where did she go the fearless child that I used to be? The one who with all boldness would go up to strangers and woo them with her sparkling charm. Questions and curiosities poured out of her mouth in a unstoppable torrent. Along the way she got lost and in her place a timid girl who walks on egg shells and has bound the wildness and fire in a deeply hidden box. This new girl she bends and bows to all who steal her heart. Affection and love are so lacking in her daily intake that she feel she must "earn" the crumbs thrown off the table in disregard. Around her women, girls, they are well fed there is no need for them to seek, these needed nourishments appear consistently and when needed.

Did the wild child shrivel up and die which lead to the lack of care or did the neglect lead to her closing inward to save the tiny bit of her that burns still brightly? I can't figure this damned riddle out...the proximity is too close and my vision to myopic to understand. I understand in ache and need and unmet desire. That ghost of this is what should be and why didn't you do this. I wish for the rewind to go back to moments when I would have stood boldly in all my scars and beauty completely naked, I would say take me take this I don't care what the repercussions are just please don't ignore me any longer.

Half state hide

2012-02-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

"It's a fool alone that carries gold

He'll find his own when he finds alone

Now it's miles away and cast in stone

Now he's miles away and casting stones"

"Half State" stalks me when I am unaware. A profound and deep message that I just can't seem to decipher. Played live it's all over, my rabbit brain turns to mush and the spiritual-metaphysical connection takes over. Lost, searching for meaning in a swirling sea of base and guitar chords, rhythmic drum beats and the battle between dark and light. My heart prays the unattainable words that seep out of me like salt tears in a vivid dream. Echos and whispers crying I just want to know to understand to fathom the truths that even these artists can't see. I sound like a crazy person, like the Kubrick fans who see hidden meaning in telephone books half hidden on the celluloid screen. Yet I have seen God and the Devil battling out of the corner of my eyes. In a guzzle of absinthe I've seen lovers and friends change sides. I know clearly those moments when I become the conduit of the unknown truth, falling off my tongue in well formed thought and words I could never have constructed of my own accord. On a late spring night in a dream like state I talked a friend of friends off a ledge of some kind, while a dead man came to offer gifts to a friend. Events that are out of my sphere of knowledge and comprehension and yet and true as the repaired shattered front tooth or the scar on my leg from when I was six. God is bigger and broader than one can understand, lightnings of transformation and redirection happen in an instant or over a slow incline. And deep inside this hypnotic song lies a truth that I have yet to discover.

battles

2012-02-04T15:53:00.000-08:00

my body is in revolt mode today...it often switched places with my mind like children it's so hard to get everyone on the same page. nothing wants to stay in side and offer nourishment and stability, nope it's just in and out. waves of nausea flood me from head to toe as i try with all my strength to stand and stay up right. but alas it's not a day for movement. i am confined to couches and beds and the trip in the car will be a bitch tonight. fighting i contemplate the cause of this...is it food that i should not have chosen to imbibe? or spiritual forces and energies (being earthy i feel everything physically in my body) attempting to block my forward movements? embittered and locked emotional stress? or just running myself ragged until the body finally tells the mind and the will and the spirit..."STOP" and they still don't listen so it says "I said stop and since you aren't taking my advice I'm gonna make you stop! Take that suckers!" and here i am laid out on a day when I wanted so much to be active and vibrant.

waves and things

2012-02-02T23:55:00.000-08:00

in a late night hour, in this moment my mind wants to yell "fuuuuuck" ( as i did this morning while stuck in traffic) and then run to get lost in a beautiful ocean. but the ocean closest is my bed and my dreams are a much more dangerous sea on which to spend this half used night...before being caught in the bright light streaming of the dawn.

damn duped again

2012-02-02T23:50:00.000-08:00

dating and sex and attracting all sound so good on paper, don't they?
and then i find myself in the wormy little closet of desire wrestling with wants and knowledge.
it smells funny here and there is something unnatural dripping off the walls.
the various "partners" amble in and stand against the viewing spot that is not unlike a police mug shot line up.
they list their positive and negative skill sets and offerings, yet that is just the beginning. if they get past the undefinable list or i am having an exceptionally generous day then we talk and maybe just maybe meet up in some real world space.
it is here via telephone wires, emails, or silverlake bars that inevitable something shows up. it's ambiguous nature keeps definition far away but like the ticking bomb it's always on time. for in the spectral presence the attractive energies shift and all hope of future mornings in bed or walking in the rain are erased from the candidate's brain processing.
at this given point all charm, beauty and muse-like quality hides or falls away out of my form and once again the conquest for love is aborted way to soon.

chaotic musings on fence riding

2012-02-02T23:42:00.000-08:00

My words fail and emotional responses kick in maybe I am overly tired from the week behind and ahead of me...who knows. What I do know is this my guts are wrenched and my heart cried out to the Creator in anguish. I was once told that my empathy was like a pot left on to boil covered for way to long. So when it finally comes it's like flash floods and tsunamis washing away all below. But that is me. I feel deeply, I connect with my heart and ache on behalf of others.

How can I tell you that the readings and concrete truths with which I was raised no longer make sense to me? That if I saw the way out I might just be what some would call a heretic...but I keep holding on to the robes and attempt to break away all at the same time. Moving into contemplation I realize that I trust God, in spite of all the years I believed in God's infinite capacity to love all except me, and God's love but I do not always trust those who act as messengers of God. I sit on this fence and think about all the various ropes that are pulling across me. Even my wants seem to be polar opposites of themselves and I want so badly for someone to come along and play the hand for me. Yet ironically when one tries to I pull the cards out of their hand screaming "NO you're playing it wrong...give them to me". So here I sit caught between desires and wants and truths and needs unable to see the forrest from the trees...I guess I'll take a seat and look at the stars for a while beseeching the universe or God for something like clarity.

for those i cant hold

2012-01-30T22:26:00.000-08:00

The weight of grief and chaos is palpable...the goodness of my heart aches with the cracking heartache captured across telephone wires and fiber-optics. I understand the loss and accompanying depression, the desperation that comes with being alone in the gauntlet thrown down by the school of hard knocks. Yet I can't hold this, I can't hold this aching breaking you on the other end of the line. Full up here on the unintended blood suckers who are so broken they leech off others in their attempts to survive the tsunami like waves. There are those whom I am willing to wade into the depths of the ocean's darkness with and those for whom it's another's deep ended journey. Stability is my shallow cord and I don't have enough of it to offer you. Yes it's true I have played the savior at times, badly poorly and ineffectively mind you, but in two minutes of conversation I know I have nothing to offer that pain. What I have to give is for another, I am not noble or self less enough to ask for absolutely nothing in return to give like Mother Teresa in utter abundance. No, I do require a cost of some kind and that's a toll that you are unable to pay. Yours are not tears or shutters that I can hold. My body is unwilling to be offered as a means of distraction and care to your ache. This is not a relationship that will go beyond a phone call...I do not wish to try and hold grace in my naked attachments. For some I would offer body and heart as a balm for restoration and hope but you are not him and so I must go.

cinematic ghosts

2012-01-30T17:54:00.000-08:00

I watched you on a movie screen tonight in a crowded theatre, they even got the soundtrack and self centered despair tempered with guilt and regret right. It wasn't you it was an actor playing a character...but there were moments when I swear to God I saw you. Stalked via art and grief and life, I start to wonder when the tears and the shaking will stop. That weighty realization that I might have fallen in love, pulls down like a millstone dragging me into an uncharted ocean. What I want is impossible, stupid and foolish. The wagon is filled with voices all saying something different, calling out various futures for my little life. Yet all that I see is images snapshots of you, cinematic and real. They haunt and inspire me and offer a cathartic space to process.

Sundance reflections day 1

2012-01-24T12:48:00.000-08:00

I am still shocked that currently I am sitting in a pub in Park City, Utah attending the Sundance film festival. Being here at this event has been something I have dreamed of for years, given the fact that it is one of the central spaces for film. To some extent it is like entering a Mecca of film culture, like entering the Sistine Chapel or the Tate or the Louve Galleries, or the Mormon Temple down the hill in Salt Lake. There is this are of reverence and awe that happens when one finds them self in a space of inspiration and encounter with the divine. Part of me is so enraptured with the whole sense of the place that I want to burst into tears and make my mark. Another part of me just wants to sit back and watch it all happen, smoke my cigarettes have a drink and wait for some beautiful person to walk by or some serendipitous encounter to take place. I have that same mealy little voice battling back and forth saying "how the fuck did you get here (what makes you so damned special)" and "you need to get out there, take the city by storm, run wild in the streets, get into some star-studded party, and make your mark on this city". So instead I sit here for a bit of reflexion and thoughtfulness before going wild. How often are we offered chances of a lifetime and get to caught up in the chaos and over-thinking in turn failing to really experience the moments being offered. I find that there is the subtle disappointment that is worming it's way into my perception of this event. But I think that if I can stay in the moment it will die off and loose the power it's trying to gain. Maybe that is the key to life living fully into each little moment of our stupid little lives to paraphrase a previous Sundance film (American Beauty) and in that we catch the wonder of a whole life because it is not longer about pushing through but engaging with what is offered. Seeing God as the goodness in each moment instead of that which condemns and brings destruction.

Blessing and opportunity are swirling around me like the snow that came here two days ago. I'm so saturated in the abundance that I can't see the forest for the trees. To be given over the last year and a half so many things that I had dreamed and hoped and thought to be impossible, and here I stand in the evidence of this not believing that all the other dreams and hopes and impossibilities can happen. Yes if I choose to work for it I can come back here to this place of film wonderment with an entry. Traveling and creating and telling stories IS the path not the hoped for path of my little life. I am encased in the arms of love not hidden outside it's reach. Perspective shifts are running at me full force and I am here to open my arms to their transforming place.

shatters

2012-01-23T21:46:00.000-08:00

my heart it keeps breaking over and over and over again...into little shards of a thing. just when i think it can't be broken anymore empathy wields compassion like a battering ram and chink another crack in my heart. it's the child who's so fried from adult things way beyond their pay scale that they cannot understand play anymore, the depth in which poverty hits shatteringly taking lives that could have been easily saved with clean water and good food, the horrific acts that pour out of one who's fists only have the capacity to hold hatred and abuse, the acts of passive violence and active war that quickly and slowly poison the person body and soul and the damnedness of my own souls willful wantings. it's the looking at those you can't save but desperately want to, watching friends fall down the rabbit hole and wondering if they'll leave the looking glass in one piece. it breaks when i look into his eyes and hope that i was something more that what i think i might have been...the means to getting over another nothing more than a quick distraction.

old lovers muse

2012-01-19T22:18:00.000-08:00

old lovers hold a pieve of me broken away as is the way. i in turn hold a part of them, dear to my heart brought out in a moment to remember them. a different conduit for each catches me off guard at the oddest times and spaces, a smell, a chord, a touch, a word...transports my heart back in space and time when there was still a we and I was a beautiful things to behold. as i jolt back in the present reality my tender need aches. i want to be desired and wanted and new all over again. a creature mysterious and unknown. the gypsy lover who walked away first the johnanna of visions and unforgetability. i want to be that woman he could never forget who's power rolls around in his heart and mind, not the shadowed creature who is easily forgotten and left behind like the cracking and greying of old photographs hidden under the bed's back corner. the perpetual muse and long lost lover, goddess of all imagined desire who still thirty years later sets you heart and stomach aflutter with desire.

jealous of..

2012-01-11T23:46:00.000-08:00

i've decided right now at the witching hours of the night that i no longer want to be jealous of anyone else's life. instead i want to create for myself out of sweat and connections and hard work and tender love a life that i would be jealous of. one that is filled with train travels and jet flights and cameras and music and lover(s) and untradable experiences over many wild nights. no more hours spent sitting and wishing, no long allowing the simple to become complicated. i choose now to let boldness and adventure and risk scatter my path in lue of fear, paralyzation and the impossible. come what may but in my daily breaths i will run wild for life and freedom and the unrealized potential of days and nights as yet explored and discovered.

Of a more theological/ social justice bent

2012-01-05T23:24:00.000-08:00

So apparently I am on a roll posting papers and things of that nature here...granted I have written several things that I am very proud of but on the whole I kind of just write, turn the paper in and then forget about it. This is a paper I wrote last year dialoguing a brand of feminist theology called "table theology" with the theology of the untouchable class of India, called Dalits. Women of this class are marginalized three times over given their gender, status, and poverty level. The account that starts this paper I read several years ago while doing research for a marginalized theology class...the power of these women's grace and nonviolent response to dehumanizing violence and injustice flooded me. This image is what the physical abuse looks like for women of the Dalit class. Here are a few links to places that are working to end human trafficking and abuse.

www.notforsalecampaign.com
www.dalitnetwork.org
www.love146.org
www.clueca.org (which is clergy and laity for economic justice)

Theology from the Margins:

Dalit Feminist Theology & Feminist Table Theology

In July of 1985 at Karamchedu village, nine Christian dalit men were brutally murdered by the landlords. The Christian dalit women who were the mothers, wives, and sisters of these victims courageously started to lead the movement against the landlords from Chirala Church compound. When Mrs. Anne Grace Bai, a community organizer of RICE, Guntar, met with them to discover their future plans, they said in one voice, “How can we go back to Karamchedu and face the ryots who, regardless of our own employers, fell upon us, like beast, molested and humiliated us. We will not go back to our home stained by our blood and teardrops. We have been buried alive, and we will continue to shout from our living tombs. We will go everywhere, and speak to anyone and do everything to help our dalits. We have nothing more to fear.” At every stage of their struggle they prayed to God and continued their struggle because they believe that he will liberate them.[1]

People on the margins often suffer many instances of abuse and violence because they do not have power or voice within their communities. It is these same marginalized people that Christ speaks of taking care of them being care for God in Matthew 25:34-45, they are the poor, sick, and needy. Matthew 25 is one of many passages of scripture where God calls for justice and provision for those who are at the margins of society another example is Micah 6:8 which speaks to the idea that goodness and Godliness are embodies in the actions of justice, mercy, and humility. Yet how does one who is marginalized call for justice or understand God’s tangible freedom when the Christian community is constructed in a manner which silences or eliminates their voice and at times is in collusion with the other powers, which seek to marginalize them? This is one of the questions posed by theologians from the Dalit people of India and feminist theologians. What does the community of God look like when it is taking those who are on the edges or even outside the community and opens up space for their voices to be central and heard in such a way that the community is transformed from it’s overtones of abuse to a place of refuge? These are the questions that this paper will seek to address from the theologies of Dalit feminism and feminist table theology,[2] in addition the author will offer insights as to where table theology’s biblical engagement and understanding of marginalized leadership is present with in the Dalit context. First the backgrounds of these two theologies and people will be addressed moving into the central questions of this paper.

The Dalit people are the untouchables in India’s caste system. They go by many names. This is a list of several of the most popular or well-known names for them; the untouchables or untouchable caste (ashprush), Outcasts, Dalit (which means broken people), Slumdogs, Harijan (the name given to them by Gandhi meaning Children of God), and officially these people are known as Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes by the India constitution. In the caste/class socio-political system they are seen as impure, in part because of their low status and the fact that they often took on the jobs no one else would do with in the culture which were ritually unclean positions such as tanners, butchers, and other positions that deal with waste this leads to a lack in opportunities in all spheres of life as a result the Dalit people are often uneducated, poor, and abused.

“As an outcaste community within Hindu society, Dalit’s have been perceived as “ontologically separate” from all other humans, excluded from relationship with the divine. The Dalit struggle is the struggle of an untouchable, dehumanized people made strangers in their native soil, deprived of personal dignity and basic human rights.”[3]

As the above quote speaks to, they are treated as subhuman lepers and expected to be the servant/slaves for the rest of the culture. These people make up approximately 16%, 200 million people, of the countries total population.[4]

The women of the Dalit community are considered three times Dalit or marginalized because of their poverty, caste, and gender. Often they are referred to as the “Dalits among the Dalits.”[5] These women not only suffer the stigmatism and poverty of their cultural status as well as the subordination because of their gender to the men in their families and culture[6] but are also “targeted for sexual and physical abuse.”[7] Even this abuse is held against these women, in her poem “Dalit Women-Society’s Firewood” Theresamma speaks to the fact if these women “cannot stand” their husband’s touch then they are abused by their husband.[8] In addition Dalit women have “taken on the burden for continuing caste-based occupations and maintenance of the household.”[9] Often they support the whole family on whatever they can manage to earn. Many of the people of the Dalit community have found the Christian faith to be a place of life in contrast to their experience with in their culture. Yet especially for the Dalit women even the Christian church as it has been a place of hope still holds them in a submissive position, for while they are “the most regular in terms of church attendance and in most cases the majority of church members, they are not adequately represented in administrative bodies and are denied full participation.”[10] From every angle of the society and culture these women are mistreated and harmed.

In contrast Feminist Table theology came out of a class taught and created at Yale Divinity School in the spring of 1987 by Letty Russell in dialogue with Katie Cannon, Associate Professor of Ethics at Episcopal Divinity School and Visiting Professor at Yale Divinity School and five of their students coming from various racial background who were teaching assistants and small group leaders.[11] The class was called Feminist Theology in Third World Perspective it sought to “help participants own up to their divisions of sex, race, class, sexual orientation, language, and nationality as they joined in the search for global feminist theologies.”[12] It was through the structure and engagement of this community that this theological and leadership model was created. The basic premise of table theology and leadership is that “leaders are made for the people and not people for leaders”[13] meaning that the leadership of the community should come from the needs of the people and be focused on serving the community instead of seeking for elitist power and control. It takes those who are at the margins or are the silenced voices of the community and gives privilege to their hermeneutical lens.[14] The ideas of this theology came out of Russell’s diverse experience with in Christian Education, Ministry, and life experience. Letty Russell was a pioneer for women in ministry, she was one of the first women to be accepted and graduate from Harvard Divinity School in the 1950’s, she also was one of the first women to be ordained for ministry in the United Presbyterian Church leading the East Harlem Protestant Parish from 1952-1968, she sat on the World Council of Churches Faith and Order Commission from 1975-1983, and taught Yale Divinity School from 1974-2001 and continued as a visiting professor until her death in 2007.[15] Part of the inspiration for this kind of leadership model came out of Russell’s own experience as a pastor in Harlem, she says in Church in the Round that,

“one year in the early 1970’s we decide to create a sanctuary that in itself symbolized our connection to one another as a family that gathered across racial lines…that summer we decided to leave the benches “in the round” and enjoyed the chance to worship while sitting only a few feet from one another. Having eliminated both the back pews and the “high alter and pulpit,” we created a huge round table by cutting the largest piece of plywood we could find and placing this circle on the old rectangular table base…by the time the second fall had arrived, the new tradition had stuck and was considerably reinforced when no one wanted to help moved the pews back! Thus was born a round table that symbolized our table talk and table sharing as we gathered in community.”[16]

Once again the idea being that of shared leadership and equality with in the community. There needs to be a willingness to listen and learn from the situation and perspective of those who are at the margins. This means that creative and diverse means of theological engagement need to be utilized in the community as they look at Biblical dialogue and study. For communities like the Dalit, this kind of creative engagement and theological work is vital since many of the women are illiterate, come from an oral tradition, and live in circumstances that are very different from many traditional Christian communities.

Dalit women, as already mentioned in this paper stuffer many layers of oppression because of their gender, class, and poverty. As their life experiences interact with the story of the Gospel and other stories of the Biblical text, they find meaning by placing themselves into the story as a means of interpretation. This kind of interaction with the biblical text is also utilized with in feminist theological model. Take for instance the story of Christ’s interaction with the Samaritan women in John 4:4-44, in the chapter “Giving Voice to Spiritual Silence Through Feminist Reconstructions” in the book Concerns of Women: An Indian Theological Response, Pushpa Joseph retells this Biblical text in light of the suffering of a Dalit woman. The tale starts with the woman returning to her hut from gathering water, she is then raped and abuse by her landlord, this leads to her bearing a child and being forced into a relationship with this man who in turn sells her body to others to earn money for himself. Her journey to freedom begins when the abuser becomes sick and dies, it is at this point that the woman becomes involved with a community of Christians where the women are leading the community. Through this group she begins to learn about Jesus and faith. During one of the meetings she has a spiritual vision of being at a well and meeting Christ. He asks her for a drink of water and she struggles with this request.

“I heard the voice again, ‘Give me a drink.’ At that moment I knew, I knew I heard it. I heard water. Yes, water, meandering, rushing forth, in gurgles and spurts. There it was welling up. But where on earth, Oh, My, Where on earth is the source? And in my deep reverie I heard it say again, ‘Give me a drink.’ I screamed, ‘Why would you for goodness sake draw it yourself? What on earth is the matter’ I roared louder. ‘There is the rope and the bucket, it is all there. What the hell are you asking me for? I am only a prostitute. A spoilt woman at the fringes.’

‘From your heart shall living water flow.’ I heard those words. I couldn’t believe it. From my heart shall flow living water? Yes, I heard it again - the rippling and burble of water. Where from? And yet that was the moment when I knew it was there, coming from within me, from myself. I knew it in a way I had not known before. I was not spoilt. I never can be…’We aren’t spoilt. We are whole human beings too.’…From then on I visited many women who had ended up in the flesh trade through no fault of their own. I spoke to them of my new found freedom. Slowly women started to believe. Believe in the fullness of life that welled up from within…’From the hearts of all men and women will flow steams and streams of living water.’”[17]

For the woman in this story, freedom from shame and circumstances was found in both the community of believers and through her spiritual encounter with the imagery of the Samaritan woman at the well. By placing herself in the position of the woman at the well she was able to find the truth of who she was. No longer was she bound to the naming she received because of her caste and subsequent experiences. As she discovers her own freedom she is able to also share it with others who have been suffering abuse and marginalization. Much like the woman in the biblical account, the woman of this story finds that her freedom sends her to tell and share what she has experienced with others in her community of marginalized people offering them freedom as well.

Creative and dynamic exegetical engagement is what Letty Russell advocates for with the idea of those on the margins having hermeneutical privilege. In part because through the engagement of the marginalized with the biblical text, overlooked and missed elements of the text are flushed out and a broader and more robust understanding of what is being said in the Biblical text is offered to the community. Often the typical means of biblical interpretation have been situated in the context of church tradition and history, in turn the interpretation has been created by those in power affecting the understanding of biblical meaning in those traditions and histories. What is therefore perceived as a universal understanding or reading of the Biblical text is actually, at least in part, a function or factor of the given culture and cultural understanding in which the tradition or interpretation came out of. Therefore for as Letty Russell says, “Experience has shown those who have little voice in shaping the tradition that such universal statements reflect the understanding of reality experienced by those with the power and knowledge to name that reality.”[18] Going back to the text of the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4 Joseph points out through the hermeneutic of suspicion that the woman, who in traditional interpretations has been seen as a whore or loose woman because of the five marriages, was un able to divorce any of these men given the Jewish divorce laws present in the Gospel period and therefore there is more to be understood about her situation.[19] Joseph by taking the social context of the period into account finds alternative reasons for the Samaritan woman’s situation because the traditional means of interpretation have disregarded her experience as a woman because it was not their own. For the Dalit women “theologizing and reading of scripture”[20] starts “from the experience of a denied humanity”[21] this means that when it comes to interpretation of scripture it’s meaning and use must be closely connected to the community in “mutual relationship between community and scripture.” Therefore readings of scripture which do not take into account the daily situation and context in which the readers, in this case Dalit women, are faced with are to be treated with suspicion and creatively reinterpreted. This is because if the biblical text is used as means to uphold and support their subjection then it looses the power of freedom and shalom spoken within it’s central message. Given the class/caste system and paradoxical view of women present in Indian culture this has often been the experience of women in all castes when coming to the biblical text.

“Indian Christian women defend the Bible as a source of inspiration for liberation in the past and in the present. They declare that as long as such inspiration is found within it, the Bible must not be discarded…they do not fail to notice the oppression and sin that they have encountered in Christian institutions and traditions. Deeply conscious that both Christian institutions and Christian theology operate within a sexist framework and language they attempt to reconceptualize and transform Christian theology and biblical interpretation. “ [22]

Another way in which Dalit people and Dalit theological work specifically reconceptualizes the structures of abuse and power both in the Christian community and within the cultural setting is by holding up truth both Biblical and general truth as a means to confront the prejudice and bias which has led to their abuse and harm. In her interpretation of Christ’s dialogue with the Syrophoenician woman found in Mark 7, Dalit theologian Surekha Nelavala, speaks about her own marginalization and her mother’s brave rebuke of prejudice and the contrast between her engagement and the scriptural story,

“However, my mother told him, ‘You are calling us untouchables, the dirty pigs, but each grain of rice that you are eating is touched and processed by us only.’…Although the owner (of the house they were trying to rent) could see the rationale in my mother’s argument, he did not risk changing his attitude…in this experience I can see many similarities and also significant differences to the story of the Syrophoenician woman. The Dalit woman is unclean by her caste and birth; the Syrophoenician woman is unclean because she is Gentile, and her relation to a daughter with unclean spirit could double the stigma. Both approached the men politely, and both were humiliated and rejected. But the Dalit woman was rejected despite arguing her case, where as the Syrophoenician woman was offered what she sough in the end.[23]

Nelevala further talks about the contrast between the biblical story and her own in regard to the willingness of the hearer to change their perspective. In her experience even the mirroring of the flawed logic did not change the landlord’s perspective, where as in the biblical account the Syrophoenician woman’s persistent dialogue and challenge to Christ did change his perspective. Nelevala goes on to tell another story of a Dalit woman whose “indirect resistance”[24] does change the person in power’s perspective and engagement with her and her daughter. The hope that is seen through this specific Biblical text for the Dalit community is that by persistent and creative engagement that reveals the flaws in the logic of oppression, the oppressor will face their own biased view and seek like Christ to change their perspective. Table theology also can be used to create structures and forms of exegetical engagement that opens space for this kind of creative engagement.

In Conclusion, Table theology and Dalit theology understand that the freedom, which is offered in the Bible, is only freedom when it is for the whole community. When a Christian community holds to structures of leadership or biblical interpretation that isolate the marginalized and voiceless people of their community it is no longer holding to the central meaning message of love, acceptance, and freedom of the Christian faith. Galatians 5:1 says “It is for freedom that Christ set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery.”[25] In both of these theological understandings the freedom of Christ is both a tangible freedom and a spiritual freedom. This freedom comes through creative means of engagement with structures of power and oppression, even those in the Christian Church. Story, witness, and the lives of the community become central ways to read the biblical text as well as to oppose systems of power. The quote at the beginning of this paper was the first experience the author had with the Dalit people’s story. The powerful image of “living tombs” and these brave women seeking justice for themselves and on behalf of those whom they had suffered abuse from was incredibly powerful image of the transformative power of faith in the practical experience of marginalization and abuse. Also it is a brave and beautiful means to confront oppression by raising witness in voice and body.

[1] Devi, Swarnalatha, “The Struggle of Dalit Christian Women in India”, Feminist Theology from the Third World: A Reader, (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1994), pg 135

[2] Feminist table theology is also referred to as church in the round or theology in the round so for the purposes of this paper all three terms will be used to describe this theological lens.

[3] Sathianathan Clarke, Interview with Dr. James Massey and M. Azariah, as quoted by Bird, Adrian, M.M. Thomas and Dalit Theology, pg 30

[4] Grey, Mary, “Dalit Women and the Struggle for Justice in a World of Global Capitalism” Feminist Theology: The Journal of the Britain & Ireland School of Feminist Theology, p127

[5] Melanchthon, Monica Jyotsna, “Dalit Women and the Bible: Hermeneutical and Methodological Reflections” Hope Abundant: Third World and Indigenous Women’s Theology, pg 107

[6] Melanchthon, pg 107

[7] Melanchthon, pg 107

[8] Theresamma, Dalit Women- Society’s Firewood” as quoted by Melanchthon, Monica pg 106

[9] Melanchthon, pg 107

[10] Melachthon, pg 110

[11] Russell, Letty, “From Garden to Table” in Inheriting Our Mother’s Gardens: Feminist Theology in Third World Perspective, pg 151

[12] Russell, Letty, “From Garden to Table”, pg 151

[13] Russell, Letty, Church in the Round: Feminist Interpretation of The Church, pg 67

[14] Russell, “From Garden to Table”, pg 151

[15] “Letty Russell dies at 77”, News From the National Council of Churches, www.ncccusa.org/news/070716lettyrussell.html

[16] Russell, Letty, Church in the Round, pg 20

[17] Joseph, Pushpa, “Giving Voice to Scriptural Silences Through Feminists Reconstructions”, pg 66-67

[18] Russell, Church in the Round, pg 33

[19] Joseph, pg 58

[20] Melachthon, pg 111

[21] Melachthon, pg 111

[22] Joseph, pg 42

[23] Nelavala, Surekha, “A Dalit Feminist Reading of Mark 7:24-31”, Expository Times 118 (2, 2006), pg 66

[24] Nelavala, pg 66-67

[25] Gal. 5:1 NIV

Broken English (Film Review)

2012-01-05T23:10:00.000-08:00

In light of posting previous writing here is the review I wrote via The Other Journal (which my brother is one of the film editors for...go Ian!) www.theotherjournal.com, a few years ago. It's my take on the film Broken English... It was again one of those movies that just stuck with me. For days I was locked in attempts to understand the character and why it mattered to me.

A Beautiful Messy Journey: Entering Into Reality with Broken English

Review: Broken English, Directed by Zoë Cassavetes, Magnolia Home Entertainment, 2007. 98 minutes.

Why is it that as we grow older and stronger

The road signs point us adrift and make us afraid

Saying, "You never can win," "Watch your back," "Where's your husband?"

Oh I don't like the signs that the sign makers made.

So I'm going to steal out with my paint and my brushes

I'll change the directions, I'll hit every street

It's the Tinseltown scandal, the Robin Hood vandal

She goes out and steals the King's English

And in the morning you wake up and the signs point to you

They say,

"I'm so glad that you finally made it here,"

"You thought nobody cared, but I did, I could tell,"

And "This is your year," and "It always starts here,"

And oh, "You're aging well."[i]

The life of a single woman is not the glamorous and sexy life portrayed in shows like HBO’s Sex and the City[ii] or weekly sitcoms like the CW’s Girlfriends. In images like this the idea of someone choosing to break up with their girlfriend via post-it note is a laughable and quirky plot invention and not the dehumanizing and depressing experience that this would be in a real relationship.

As a single woman in my late twenties, these small and large screen depictions of the single life remind me of someone’s deranged fantasy. Single life is an awkward balance of good and bad that doesn’t play out in a neat comedic package. Although I have to say that, with one exception, I seem to attract the craziest men that Seattle has to offer, but that is fodder for another article. And while my group of girlfriends does go out for the occasional martini and girl-talk nights, it looks nothing like the perfectly clothed and quaffed outings of Sex and the City. Usually we end up at someone’s house drinking Chuck Shaw wine and bemoaning the men or the lack of men in our lives.

Zoë Cassavetes' film Broken English offers a different vision of what it’s like to be a single woman than these glitzy portrayals, through the character of Nora Wilder (Parker Posey). Nora suffers from real problems and Cassavetes presents them in a beautiful but down-to-earth manner. Some of the most intriguing and compelling moments in the film are when Nora is completely broken. These moments stand out because of the absolute nakedness in which they are presented. Nora is not Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City. When she is in the midst of a breakdown, she looks the part, as if the next straw will break the camel’s back and yet still you have to walk down a public street.

Cassavetes does not glorify or sugar coat the chaos of being a single woman, but depicts both its beauty and humanity. For me one of the most heart-breaking scenes takes place the morning after Nora has gone out with Nick Gable (Justin Theroux), who is one of the guests she is responsible for as part of her position as hospitality director for a New York hotel. She wakes up hung over, at work, in bed with a man she knows is more trouble than he is worth. It is her “oh shit” moment, yet what stuck me about it beyond the artistic integrity and beauty of the scene was the sorrowful realization that all the women I know have been in that place in some form or another. Cassavetes does such a great job of displaying the reality of this moment, the self-hatred and frustration that comes with the morning after hangover. Sitting in the dark theatre watching powerful scenes like this one I found that I was being offered an honest and cathartic experience. In spite of the differences between Nora and myself, I knew the emotions and feelings that were being evoked. She creates a space to enter into our own heartache and brokenness. By entering into Nora’s journey to understand herself, Cassavetes offers a new way of journeying. It is one of honesty and learning to value one’s self. Another wonderful segment of the film clearly portrays this change in Nora. She has flown with her best friend Audrey (Dre de Matteo) to Paris to find Julian (Melvin Poupaud). Julian is the kind and tender French man, hence the title because of the miscommunications between the two of them, who enters Nora’s life just at the point when she is completely given up on men. When they first meet Nora is really not ready to trust that Julian could see value her because she still doesn’t believe that she has any value herself. He offers her the chance to enter into a different reality, go with him to Paris, yet she declines. As Nora starts to see the beautiful and valuable woman that she is, she comes to a place where she is willing to take a risk and ends up in Paris. Because of a mix up she is unable to find Julian and is left with the decision to enter into a journey of exploring Paris and herself or leave with Audrey and go back to the way she was. Nora chooses to stay. As she wanders around the city, Cassavetes creates scenes with beautiful images of freedom and wonder. The most telling part of this segment of Nora’s journey is when she meets a man in a gallery who invites her out with some friends for drinks. Nora goes but unlike earlier in the film she values herself enough to leave. Learning to honor and value oneself is one of the biggest elements missing with most of the women I know, as well as my self, we have been conditioned to find our value in others and their views of who we are instead of ourselves. Several of my dearest girlfriends are rarely seen for who they are, but instead they are valued only for their external beauty. Constantly they have men who want to own or possess them, not encounter who they are at the heart of their personhood. So much of Nora in the beginning part of the film characterizes these aspects of being women. We are beautiful and messy human beings with much to offer to others if only they and we are open to seeing the wholeness of the person. So often the reality of this precarious dance of humanity is not seen or wanted instead, it is traded for an idealized version. This happens both in relationships and portrayals of relationships.

Nora is a beautiful mess like the rest of us. By watching her struggle I am reminded that we all struggle with the discrepancy between our desires, ideas of what we want life to be, and the reality of where we are at currently. It is in the midst of these contrasting elements that we live most of our lives, lives of silent desperation, as Virginia Woolfe would say. This desperation comes from not living into the fullness of who we are and where we are.

So often the way in which women especially, their neurotic and pathological elements, are portrayed in film is as either cute and glamorous or psychotic and crazy. There are very few films and TV shows today that reveal women in a normal light. For an example of this negative portrayal of women take the American remake of the Italian film L’Ultimo bacio (One Last Kiss), 2006’s The Last Kiss staring Zack Braff. While the male characters in this film are portrayed in the complexities of humanity, all of the female come off as caricature. Blythe Danner’s character is the only one who possibly escapes this fate. I found it so frustrating to watch as these women were all played as documental stereotypes; the crazy demanding wife, the seemingly nice and cool with whatever yet really crazy knife-welding girlfriend, and the young seductress who when it comes down to it wants a relationship in spite of her words to the contrary. While there are women who are mirrored in these characters, there is really no resemblance to any of the women I know. It is no wonder that interpersonal dynamics between men and women get so messy with images like these proliferating in our cultural thought. The most frustrating thing about many of the films created around the topic of relationships, is that so often in the development of the story there is so little space for both men and women to be beautiful and flawed human beings stumbling around trying to be in relationship with each other. It’s the subtleties of authentic relationships and people that make Broken English such a powerful film.

What is delightfully refreshing in Broken English and the films of several other female writer/directors is that life in all of its beauty and humanity is offered to the viewer in a realistic yet honoring manner. Cassavetes joins the ranks of female filmmakers like Nicole Holofcener, Mira Nair, and Deepa Mehta who bring real and challenging stories that are subtle yet beautiful in their portrayals of the life, hardships, and specific issues that face women in relationships. Nora is not written off so easily as an idealized or deranged image of womanhood reminding us that women are not just the false idols we are used to seeing on screen. Most women I know struggle with the very same self-hatred and depression that is portrayed in Nora. Either they are the women who meet men but always the wrong ones or the women who never meet anyone. They are not crazy or glitzy but real, incredible, and striking women who struggle with the overwhelming pressure to be something else instead of being allowed the freedom to be themselves. "Sometimes in life you feel so much pain, and all this stuff is available to you and kind of socially acceptable to do, so you completely overmedicate yourself just so you can tune out for five minutes from the constant buzzing of nightmare feelings in yourself."[iii] It is these buzzing nightmare feelings, as Cassavetes describes it, as well as the beautiful pieces that make a whole, lovely, and flawed human being. Allowing yourself to be human takes a lot of courage, as a woman one must forage new paths and write new signs like the Dar Williams’ quote at the beginning of this review speaks of doing. Sometimes it is easier to just self-medicate, at least for a while. Yet at some point one has to choose either self-medication to avoid facing the heartbreak of continually desiring more, or like Nora choose to find your own path and yourself. This is the importance and value of a film like Broken English - that we all (especially women) are free to choose a different path, one where we are released to be our messy and wonderful selves.

[i] Williams, Dar, “Your Ageing Well” The Honesty Room, Burning Fields Music, 1993

[ii] The author would like to remind the reader that while it does tend towards shallow and surface topics, Sex and the City does, by its season finale in 2004, grow into a pop-cultural icon that offers the viewer the value and need of strong relationships between women friends, but in regard to men, sex and romantic relationships it really is a false image.

[iii] Lewis, Amanda, quoting Zoë Cassavetes in, “Language of The Wounded”, Washington Times, 7/20/2007, http://washingtontimes.com/article/20070720/ENTERTAINMENT/107200008/1007/entertainment

Graduate Paper...Secretary and Ecclesiastes

2012-01-04T23:43:00.000-08:00

Along time ago when I was in graduate school for the first time my dear friend Mike used to post his papers on his blog after he finished them...I always liked that idea but never felt that what I had written was "good" enough to be posted. Ironic given the fact that many times I post total randomness on here. Anyway back to Mike and his posting of papers...this evening as I was finishing my first assignment of the quarter (see previous post it's the second half) I decided that I would pull a Mike and post a paper or two. In light of that if you want to see how one can dialogue a film about SM and the biblical book of Ecclesiastes or if you're just curious what a graduate paper looks like see below. In all it's footnotes and glory here's my final paper from last quarter...

Redemption and Healing in the Shadowed Spaces:

Secretary and Ecclesiastes in Dialogue

What has the power to transform life, to create meaning out of chaos and hope out of despair? In the case of the film “Secretary” by Steven Shainberg redemption comes in the form of expressing dark desires and love. The basic story of this film is one of relationship and birth.

Lee Holloway, the main character is a young woman caught in the triangulation of dysfunctional family dynamics. Lee, the youngest child of a family broken by alcoholism and abuse, uses cutting and self harm as a means to express her lack of control in the world around her. When we first meet Lee she has just been released from a mental institution where she had been because of an incident of cutting that went to deep. The institution is a place where things made sense and had structure. This place offered some kind of order that Lee’s home did not have. She is childlike and guarded with the outlook of a seventh grader, the age she was when she began cutting. The day of Lee’s release is the day of her sister’s wedding and all the family chaos is on display, almost immediately Lee goes back to the siren’s call of self-harm. Even though she goes back to cutting Lee is seen taking a typing class and beginning to look for a job, she is seeking something to give her stability and meaning. Going out one night to dispose of her stash of self-mutilation instruments, Lee sees an ad in the newspaper for a secretary. The next day, during a rainstorm, she goes to the law office of E. Edward Grey and is hired for the job. As Lee enters the office to apply for the job, she encounters the former secretary leaving crying holding severance pay in her mouth. With this, her first job, Lee begins a process of growing from a preteen mentality to a woman fully aware of who she is and what she wants in relationships and life. At the beginning of her employment Lee begins a relationship with Peter, a friend from high school. Peter thinks that he understands Lee but doesn’t really take the time to understand her. Instead from the beginning of their interactions he is juxtaposing his image of who he wants her to be on to Lee. He becomes yet another person who wants Lee to be what they want her to be. Only Edward is able to see the pain and chaos sitting just below the surface of Lee’s mousy exterior. Early on in their relationship Edward observes Lee cutting as well as seeing the evidence of Lee’s self mutilation. Unlike the other people in her life who express a desire for her to be “ok” but are unable to actually engage or help Lee transition away from cutting, Edward offers not only his concern but also permission for her to break her co-dependency and have choice and self-agency. He is the one person who is able to accurately describe how and why she cuts.

Edward: “Why do you cut yourself, Lee? Is it that sometimes the pain inside has come to the surface, and when you see evidence of the pain inside you finally know you’re really here? Then, when you watch the wound heal, it’s comforting…isn’t it? [1]

In her relationship with Edward, Lee shifts from abusive relationships to one that includes consent and pleasurable pain. No longer is she forced to endure the pain of others taking it into herself and then exorcising it via self-inflicted harm but rather Lee is able to choose intimacy that has both pleasure and pain. It is this intimacy and choice, which in the end gives Lee the strength to fight for Edward and their relationship.

Director, Steven Shainberg, utilizes several cinematic elements to highlight Lee’s shifting transition in this film. The elements I will address here are; color and design motifs, Lee’s costume pieces, and the over all look of the film. As stated previously in this paper, Lee begins her journey with the visage and emotional status of a preteen. From her room to the containers she keeps her cutting paraphernalia in to some of the instruments she uses in her cutting everything about Lee hints to an adolescent aura. It’s hearts, cutesy Lisa Frank style designs, flowy gauze, and baby soft pinks, blues and light purples. Lee’s room is frozen in time filled with images of the idealized girlhood desires for princess-like beauty, the fantasy world that one can escape and dream away the abusive reality outside it’s walls.

When going to apply for the job with Edward, Lee is covered head to toe in shades of lavender. This color is a muddied purple which when used as an accent color enhances more vivid colors. Yet as a stand -alone color lavender is flat and mousy, the pigmented representation of Lee’s present self. She is contrasted to the lush and inviting color pallet of Edward’s office. The décor of which is a fusion of warmth and linear strength. Where Lee’s environment is a child-like fantasy space Edward’s office is solidly adult. All of the pieces and elements of which it is comprised of have an exotic, fantasy inducing, distressed beauty. There are also hints to the darker nature of Edward’s character and desires in the décor. For example the shadowy hallway that leads to his office. The office is hidden behind a strong and ancient looking door and guarded by two mystical statues giving it a sense of focus and mystery. Edward’s conflicted nature is also visioned in this hallway through the lighting and incorporation of living and flourishing foliage set up on the symmetrical shelving. This is revealed to be the place of honor for icons of his pleasure. In the development of their relationship this hallway houses the framed and marked letters that are icons of their growing relationship. As Lee moves into herself, she begins to explore with color. In one scene in particular she applies baby-blue eye shadow to her lids in the manner of a young girl playing “make-up”. Soon her clothing and color choices are marked by bold vibrant colors, in place of the muddy lavender is a vivid and scaly textured vibrant royal purple. The lavender that was once her defining color is now used as it was meant to be, on the lids of her eyes emphasizing their beautiful vibrant blue. The use of lavender also connects Lee to the orchids that Edward takes such tender care of. Like his cultivation of the flowers, through their relationship Lee is being cultivated and grown into a treasure of unique beauty. The costuming choices for Lee consist of illusions to specific fashion periods and women’s power in those periods, mirroring Lee’s own growing empowerment. Initially the fashion has hints of 1950/60’s professional wear and her hairstyles are a fusion between youth and those time periods. Her hair choices are childlike and youthful, including braids and buns worn with headbands and clips. Her clothing is long unflattering skirts, with heavy boxy sweaters, turtlenecks, and flat moccasin like shoes. In many ways she resembles women who are in a conservative religious group such as fundamental Latter Day Saints or Christians. The clothing is female but lacks femininity and sexuality. As she gains power and pride in this relationship and position Lee takes on the fashion of the 1970’s where women were first gaining power and entering into the working world as equals. Her outfits now consist of silky and soft blouses, tighter knee length skirts with hints of sexuality in a properly place slit, and slightly healed shoes. In her final incarnation Lee’s hair and clothing represent a soft yet powerful feminine look and indicate a woman who is secure and seductive. A vivid example of her coming into this is the contrasts of clothing in the masturbation scene where she is fantasizing about Edward and Peter. In the interactions with Edward she is dressed in sophisticated yet sexy outfits with her hair soft and flowing, with Peter on the other hand she is clothed in brown nerdy clothing her hair pulled tightly back all of which is de-void of a feminine sensuality and sexuality.

For Lee, Edward represents the freedom to be her whole self and Peter is that which binds and smothers her. This is true of the camera angles when used for the two relationships, with Edward the camera shifts between wider shots and intimate close ups. Edward and his reactions to his and Lee’s relationship have a central focus in the shots. The camera fixates on Edward because he is the equal to Lee and the object of her desire. In contrast most of the shots with Peter have a tight suffocating yet also distant feel and he is never the emphasis of the shot. Peter is never the center in any of the shot always hovering off to the side and usually turned towards Lee with her as the focus. This positioning of Peter stands out most clearly in the scenes where they are meeting his parents and the sex scene. In the scene with his parents Peter is physically pulled into him self and turned toward Lee. She is the focus of this interaction and her discomfort is seen through her facial expressions and the tight camera shots. During the sex scene between these two characters the focus is solely on Lee. The camera highlights her boredom and lack of engagement, barely catching Peter’s reaction. The absolute disconnection between the two characters is evident. Lastly, because Shainberg’s intention with the story is to see the healing and redemptive qualities of this relationship, the over all look is warm and soft. The various elements create an inviting and nostalgic look. Where as many other films that include this type of relationship would be shot in such a manner that emphasizes the untraditional dynamics of S&M relationally, this film focuses more on the restorative relationship instead of the sexual proclivities.

Shainberg: It deals in the way in which sex, love and power are all inter-related and I was very interested in doing a love story that was different and that would deal with these kinds of issues but not in a creepy way or a dark way but in a way that had a sort of lightness and beauty to it. I don't think that there's anything odd, at all, about what they're doing. I think what while what they're doing is perhaps metaphorically bigger than the way many love relationships work in reality, that all relationships have these aspects.[2]

The biblical text of Ecclesiastes, or The Preacher, is a dialogue on finding purpose and meaning in life. The author, who claims to be King Solomon, has spent his life trying to understand the ways and means of life. Like the two main characters in “Secretary”, the Preacher is searching for meaning through a variety of area. When Lee is first encountered in this film she shares the idea with the Preacher that “all was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun.” [3] Nothing so far in her life has been able to offer meaning, it seems empty and void everyone around her seeks to fill their lives with constructs of meaning that have an empty center. For the Preacher wisdom has not lead him to find meaning in life only to see greater pain and suffering (Ecclesiastes 1:18), this is true of Lee as well. Her wisdom and ability to see the truth of her parent’s abusive relationship and her father’s alcoholism contributes to her cutting and self-mutilation. As Edward identifies, for Lee cutting helps her feel alive, “sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of countenance the heart is made glad. “[4] The Preacher understands like Lee that pain is a means through which one becomes aware of being alive. Even as she move into a healthier expression of her self and life pain and pleasure continue to be part of how Lee understands the world around her. Life will forever be a balance between joy and sorrow, “for everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”[5] In contrast Edward, for much of the movie, doesn’t understand that there might be a season and time for his darker passions a context in which they are safely expressed. He believes that they are an endless toiling appetite that can never be satisfied.[6] It is only through the determination of Lee’s love and fight for him that he is able to stop being afraid of their relationship. When he says to Lee “We can’t do this 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”[7] Edward expresses his underlying fear of this desire sexually and for Lee. He doesn’t yet understand that “two are better than one…for if they fall, one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up.”[8] Together Edward and Lee are able to find happiness, balance, and meaning in their lives. This is most evident in the scene where he bathes her and they lay down on the bed of grass. Finally these two characters are naked and unashamed before each other totally accepting of the whole person. Scars and darkness are kissed and held by the beloved. It is Lee who first realizes that their relationship is a blessing. She takes steps to understand their unique relationship, learning how to create a safe and equal dynamic. Lee through her trial in the office calls Edward to love, to “enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life which he has given you under the sun, because this is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might.”[9] No longer will these two people live in isolation or alone in pain, they have found each other and a working relationship that inspires them to work with all their might. They have found blessing, care, and space where life is no longer vanity but rot with the essence of humanity, connection and relationship with another whom you love. Like the Preacher, Lee and Edward have found that connection and relationship are the things that are to be most treasured in life. Ecclesiastes is a wonderful biblical text for dialoguing with film, especially films of this current post-modern generation because it offers all aspects of life and yet still affirms the central human need for relationship and meaning.

Over the years since it first came out “Secretary” has been a film that I have found myself drawn to. I was so taken with the bathing/grass bed scene that I used its imagery as my visual understanding for what the redemption of the Bride of Christ might look like in Revelation. As Edward purifies and cleanses Lee of all her past pain, so does Christ purify and cleanse his Bride the broken church. Both brides are then brought to a pure restorative state where they are naked and unashamed before their husband/lover. I believe that film has the power to speak truth in image and story, it seeps into our walled and closed off hearts softly echoing truth. In my life film is one of the two places I have heard the voice of God clearly speaking. Often for me film has been a place of illumination, offering an image of a biblical or theological concept. For example there is a scene in the film V for Vendetta, where the main Evey has been tested until she has lost the fear of death, she is then taken naked up to a rooftop in a rainstorm by her protector “V”, for me this scene became how I understood the idea of baptism for the early church. It is that which conquers the fear of death to be released into living life fully with purpose no longer fettered by fear. Similarly, the film “Pan’s Labyrinth” while filled with hard to watch imagery offered me as viewer a better understanding of what it means to live fully in the tension of the already and not yet of life. This film stands for me as the personification of living as a child of God in a context where that reality is not clearly seen. The sacrifice and redemption in the film stayed in my heart for a long while after viewing the film. It forced me to sit and wrestle with those concepts. Since film has been the vehicle in which spiritual and philosophical concepts are illuminated for my understanding, I find that I want to encourage that type of engagement for others. Recognizing that I will always encounter film through a lens that seeks relationship and redemption, I also find it important for film to speak for it’s self. As has been address in this class and the reading for this class, it can be easy to coat or seek for film to be “Christianized or Gospelized” instead of allowing the film to speak. As I engage in dialogues between film and scripture I seek to have both hold their own weight. Like with this dialogue between Ecclesiastes and Secretary, each has places of overlap and divergence. For many Christians watching or finding redemption and biblical connection in a film that deals with an S & M relationship seems outside the context acceptable film viewing and engagement. I on the other hand find that the most powerful and redemptive films in my collection are those, which at first glance seem to having no part in the Christian story. These films resemble the over looked or passed over stories of the biblical text, stories like Tamar & Judah, Tamar & Amnon, Sarah and Hagar, these are hard and messy stories where things are not perfect but God is present and working. I believe that dialogue between biblical text and film should be about redemption and relationship of life in all its beauty and brokenness.

[1] Shainberg, Steven, Secretary, Lions Gate, 2002

[2] Steven Shainberg Talks about “Secretary”, About Movies Interview with Steven Shainberg, http://movies.about.com/library/weekly/aa070202a.htm, Lions Gate Films, 2002

[3] Ecclesiastes 2:11 RSV

[4] Ecclesiastes 6: 3 RSV

[5] Ecclesiastes 3:1 RSV

[6] Ecclesiastes 6:7 RSV

[7] Shainberg, Secretary

[8] Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

[9] Ecclesiastes 9:9-10

Reflections about sitting in a dark room with a flickering screen...

2012-01-04T22:57:00.000-08:00

Last semester and this I have been able to have the chance to write about transformational moments while watching films...

This first one is from last semester and the second just posted today.

Love the Hard Way-

Film and art have, ever since I could remember, been predominate vehicles for God’s revelation of Truth in my life. Maybe this has a connection with growing up in a household of artists. Whatever the reason I find that I have had so many profound experiences with film that choosing one specific one to write about is a hard task. In light of that I have chosen instead to write about a film that suck with me for a long time after I saw it.

The 2001 independent film “Love the Hard Way” is a film about relationships and the costs of love. It centers on the relationship between Jack a conman and budding pulp novelist and Claire a graduate student at Columbia. Jack has his criminal life, which is the basis for his artistic life and in neither does he expect to be affected by the unexpected. When Jack meets Claire he only sees her another conquest to be had. Yet through their relationship Claire sees deeper past Jack’s walls of indifference and aloofness, to the tender spots of a man who is in need of affection. Not wanting to be seen or tied down Jack pushes Claire away breaking off their relationship and trying to shatter her image of their relationship. Claire in turn, to seek him back, journeys deeper and deeper into Jack’s shadow world of crime to get his attention and call him back to love. It is only when Jack is faced with the fact that Claire’s love for his has lead her to destruction that he allows himself to be affected and moved.

After watching this film for the first time I could not get it out of my head. For days and weeks later I mulled over the story and the characters’ choices in the film. I kept coming back, trying to understand the two central characters. What was it about Jack that kept him so isolated from love? How could Claire allow herself to fall so deeply into “the dark side of the moon” as it was described in the film for this man who seemed unworthy? There is and was something about this story that hits at the core of my understanding of relationships. While the way in which Claire goes about seeking a response and action from Jack is incredibly destructive, her call to love and willingness to risk struck my heart. For me the film stood as a reminder of fact that, the call to love costs something sometimes entering into dark and dangerous spaces. While Claire is not a “Christ-figure” in the film there is something about her in the dark spaces of Jack’s world that imitated Christ on the cross for me. Jack sees Claire as innocent and outside his dark world, her presence there shifts his view of this world changes how he sees it. Christ’s presence in the world and especially on the cross in all the horrificness acts similarly to Claire’s presence in Jack’s world, it is that jarring reality of the way things are. I was also greatly impacted by Claire’s willingness to risk the loss of herself because of her love for Jack; it is this willingness that acts as a catalyst to move Jack outside of himself. In the end this love the hard way is that which almost destroys both of the characters yet the means to their salvation. It shocks them out of their perspective paths and leads them to a deeper understanding of themselves and their journey. For me as a story watcher and teller the conflicts of love and relationship are something I am inherently drawn to. Since my understanding of God is centered in relationality as a key aspect in the Godhead imaged through the imago dei, I find that I am drawn to art that asks questions about the fundamentals of relationships. Love the Hard Way does this, it asks questions about love and cost? How much does one risk for a lover who has abandoned you? What does it take to move someone to change his or her perspective?

Dopamine-

Many Sundances ago (2003) a film premièred called “Dopamine” it was the story of two people (Rand and Sarah) meeting and connecting and trying to make things work. “Dopamine” is also about the question of whether or not love is love or just a chemical reaction. It was one of the first films I ever got off Netflix, in part because of Sabrina Lloyd, who I had loved in “Sports Night” played Sarah. As soon as it was over I got online and ordered both the film and it’s soundtrack. From the opening scene I was mesmerized by how beautiful and well made this independent film was.

How often when coming together in a relationship do the two parties approach life with very different lenses in which to see the world. Even when supposedly sharing the same basis, say faith, the way that basis of understanding plays out can be so extremely different. Rand is a man who, because of past experiences, doesn’t believe in love. Sarah on the other hand vitally holds to the view that love is necessary and transformational. Through their mutual attraction and an unexpected encounter these two people find deep connection with each other. The push-pull between Rand and Sarah as they negotiate drastically different understandings of love (and faith) and in turn their relationship was both beautiful and so natural. I found the portrayal of this relationship so engaging that I kept going back to it again and again. In the context of the film, relationship is that which inspires one on a very basic level to rise up. That is and was a powerful message to my ravaged heart. In the two characters all my internal battles about relationships, love, and faith seemed to meld and find balance. For me this movie was rest for my seemingly never-ending internal war. It also inspired my creativity. In several scenes Sarah is seen painting. In watching this film, specifically those scenes I was inspired to paint, something I had not done for several years. Painting since has becomes a means of emotional expression and outlet, which I might not have re-encountered had it not been for this film. In addition “Dopamine” was also one of the first films I saw which inspired a small voice to say “I can do that, I’d like to do that” in regard to film making and creating movies. Still almost ten years later this is one of my favorite movies…Rand and Sarah still have many things to say to me about life and I am even more inspired by the way in which this story is told.

JEK(Jessica Knippel) copyright 2012

dreaming of transformations

2012-01-03T21:54:00.000-08:00

conversations swirled like snowfall around my mind and heart. that empathetic organ caught the wave of hope being given a clouded vision of your potential. she begs and prays flat on her face and down on her knees. emmaus road, voices from heaven and clarity inducing blindness...with the awareness that God's interaction with humanity changes and transitions depending on the person and historical times. amma God aches for your restoration to the light she created you for...all this talent and power and beauty which you in that damned selfishness throw away as trash. as i begin my rant Ruah, spirit of life, breaths wisdom into my own stubborn will, while true are these words they are a blessing for me and you. what i hope for one whom i love is also what is hoped for by those who love me. so i dream and pray and ask for a wildfire of transformations to flow....that goodness, and love will claim the lives of those i care about and love.

the confusion

2012-01-02T23:20:00.000-08:00

i feel caught in a constant tug-o-war. life plunges on as my heart races circles with it's self. singleness and coupledom battle in my head as interest peaks, dates are scheduled, and an old lover comes around. the reckless part of me seeks chaos and conflict, she throws landmines building brick walls faster than you can say "how do you do." fear and love are clawing at each other, my head spins with all the various directional pulls. i curse my depth and introspection wishing to be someone who doesn't over think everything.

things of the night

2011-12-28T01:23:00.000-08:00

the loss shattered my sleepless mind, a new melody haunts the space between us awakening the heavy lidded eyes. happiness and sorrow blend into the wee hours of longing as i wrestle with my hearts desire for wrong and my mind's desire for right. the magnetic pull of absence and connection brews broken, fragmented thoughts in my weighted head. i catch myself contemplating things that are not of my make up and design. that chemical connection twists and burns inside.

the muse is calling...drenched in the echo of a thrashing dream i slink up off the heat of bed. stripped of all pretensions the cat like steps propel me towards the knocking door. haphazard sheet dress and wild haired, to your pleadings i fling open my hidden door. fires catch white hot and blue as the cataclysmic forces meet in creative combustions. after hours of painting wild erotic stories i fall into a dreamless sleep upon that same wrought iron bed.

he hovers like a bat above my bed...the vampiric ghost looking for a life to bleed. fool that i am i offer up my willing neck, willing to bleed my life for his parasitic survival. the ever expected role of a woman...give it all for the sake of a lover. i eat the crumbs from the table of life until there is nothing left for a mouse to survive. in that moment my wisdom takes over and i begin to break all these culturally constructed lies. if i allow the bites it's for my pleasure, not for your survival this time.

bluebeard

2011-12-27T23:33:00.000-08:00

he took me away from the darkening days. some said that he was the devil enfleshed but all i could see was the lonely outsider looking for rest. madly we fell into to the heady perfume called love and sex. in a small span of time it was happiness sublime, never had i known a love so complete before. then he went away giving me a key to the secret door...quick kisses and a promise to avoid he door in which he gave me a key to. our love story ends with threats of my head on a platter and ending with his head on the plate instead of mine.

pin-ups, playboy bunnies, and what is sexy?

2011-12-23T22:55:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I once again found myself at a special event that featured BRMC...gee I wonder how that happened.

What was most interesting to me was that Playboy was one of the event sponsors (it was put on by Playboy and Harley Davidson, for current military personnel...which according to Peter Hayes was the main reason BRMC was playing). Now one would think that being at a Playboy event would lead to very major shattering of any "normal" woman's self confidence or at least add some cracks. Especially for someone like me who has struggled a lot to see beauty in herself. I mean really like the porn (and basically any media industry) who can compete with those who have been CONSTRUCTed to fit an impossible ideal?

I mean very rarely are larger women seen as objects of desire or affection. I to date have only seen one film that showcased a sex scene with a woman over size ten, and it was an indie film! So going into the event I was assuming that I would just bliss out to one of my favorite bands and ignore the women who were dripping sex appeal. Because being the person I am when it comes to competition, especially in attracting men, I bow out early and fast.

So with all of this swirling in my mind I entered what is one of the hippest clubs in San Diego...only to get hit on with in about ten minutes by one of the guys who worked for Harley! Instead of feeling threatened by the Playboy girls, I felt bad for them because so many of them seemed to be less comfortable in their skin that I was. While I have a whole bag of issues when it comes to myself image and relationships, when I let go...I do let go. Because I didn't need the attention of anyone there I was able to just groove to the preshow music and of course BRMC. Actually truth be told I was getting rather ticked off at the guy who kept hitting on me during the concert...I mean really when I say this is one of my favorite bands please don't talk to me during their set!!!!

Over all besides the always wonderful experience of this band live, I walked away from that night feeling sexy, confidant, and wanting to hear the stories of the women there who worked for Playboy.

Since going to that show I have been rolling around the idea in my mind of what exactly is sexy and how do I want to express my sexuality? How do I continue becoming more comfortable in my own skin and being. As I've pondered this I find that I keep remembering moments and people who encouraged me in this adventure. I also have been looking at what I see as beautiful and sexy images...what looks or elements inspire me.

There seem to be so many; 50's pin up styles, burlesque, writing on the body and tattooing (the pillowbook is a film that greatly effected my view of the body as a canvas), the film Secretary, vivid colors and lush saturation of color....and the list goes on. I find that beauty and sexuality are more about confidence than anything else. The women (and men) I know who have the most powerful aura in any setting, are those with utter confidence in themselves or at least a deeply rooted sense of self. Many people can take on a "role" for a while but it is a powerful and world shifting stance to live fully into ones self. In the end I think that is what I find most appealing...confidence rooted in a solid sense of self...and that is what I am slowly in snail time developing.

heart films

2011-12-19T23:24:00.000-08:00

Once again music starts the film of memories, those real and those remembered. Longing kicks in for whom I cannot have and aches stand guardian. Yet just as the frosty and perfect image begins to worm it's self around in my heart, the reality of the moment shatters the constructed illusion. I may love fiercely and strong but the you of this song will never be the one to woo this heart along. It can't be done the true reality shatters the constructed icon of hope and no amount of chemistry and passion will bridge the gap. It may happen that I fall down the rabbit hole but this time for warned Alice will bring her climbing gear.

movement

2011-12-19T23:18:00.000-08:00

As the days go by my world shifts by millimeters and inches. Nearly undetectable until I stand back from the ledge of months and see that I have scaled this impossible cliff. Dreams no longer seem so far fetched and antiquated as once imagined. The stars and moon are easily caressed with a reach of my nimble hand. Lady wisdom smiles down as time and promise rise up to shower the fairy dust of blessings. With one foot in front of the other visions are birthed and hopes come out screaming their existence. My heartaches with the happy afterglow of a morning after dancing the night away in joy and pleasure. Step by step the process , the journey leads to fragrant and lush fields beyond the current scope of vision. Smiles soak my face in anticipation of the wonder it will be.

soft lighting, sun rise

2011-12-05T23:33:00.000-08:00

so much beauty that my heart wells and swoons. it's dearest and locked up desires offered in a feast of blessing. who knew that all you had to do was start jumping off cliffs and believing in flight for magic to appear? i feel like wendy sprinkled with fairy dust bobbling and weaving through the air thrilled by the soft touch of clouds. in the cool winter of long nights and short days i find a summer sun kissing my spiritual eye. suddenly everything is vividly technicolor and hollywood soft. thank you for the impossible possibility of it all.

dreamwalker

2011-12-04T00:02:00.000-08:00

He haunts my dreams. Entering and then backing away on dates and times unknown. A foolish connection of unmet desire. I looked in your eyes hoping for fire. The passion was gone, left on the stage and I stood there and cried, hoping for rain. My hands type words that I wish I could say. I'm desperate to fill up your heart with the truth of a hope more solid than I even know. Everything in the dusky days feels like the daytime fantasies of a small child, creating stories in her head because the reality is to hard to deal with. On certain days I wonder about his ability to dreamwalk and see that which is so rarely seen...is that why he comes in and out, with the evasiveness of spirits and dreams? Dreamcatchers, feathers, spirits and Christ...the tokens of entry into a holistic life they sit on a shelf and gather dust as of late. Maybe someday they will carry a bit more weight. This spirit or being is like a vinyl record playing in the other room...the nostalgia for things past and things yet to come.

numb

2011-11-29T16:38:00.000-08:00

now is the itching time when my tiny heart craves a chaos that allows it to disassociate from the chaos inside. i want to run wild and naked through dark alley streets, "go out and embarrass my self by getting drunk and falling down in the street", hop on the back of a strangers bike to follow the need for a hit and search for something real in the arms of another being. everything is filled with angsty need. all the unified cells of my being scream "DO SOMETHING NOW". Sunset Blvd and Hollywood call, the night view of her lady of the angels from Griffith's high seat and the late night creations of a studio by the river. smoke fills up my mouth and lungs, wine down my parched throat, here i sit hoping that these elements will offer a mediation between the tangible and the spiritual. i need connection and music and love and creation...i want to feel alive again.

Legion

2011-11-22T23:11:00.000-08:00

Legion has stuck it's claws deep into your heart taking the place of light and filling your eyes with dark. Like a shifting storm on the Galilean sea, the army takes hold and you cease to be. I've see those moments of beauty where your truest heart shines but the clouds soon cover over and the storms fill your windowed eyes. Slicing your wrists and your invisible dreams you seek for destruction of goodness with the call of a drink or two or three. Yours is a slow and meandering death. My heart-breaks and I wonder if you'll be able to break your fetters and rise again. That humanity still lingers deeply hidden inside, Gollum torn between desire for life and desire for the ring. Redemption standing waiting listening for the call only to receive prayers followed by the fuck you at the end of the latest close call. Under no delusions I hide in the boat well aware that salvation is not part of my scope, love it runs deep but must stand back afar for the many has you deep in it's reigns and that's a game I just can't play.

(inspired by mark 5:2-13)

calling

2011-11-22T00:04:00.000-08:00

Everywhere around me there is hurt and pain, oppression and destruction of life. So many mouths to feed, hearts to mend and shelters to find...my meager offerings feel just that meager and ineffectual against a tidal wave of injustice and crookery. And it's not just "those people" over there, I hold the keys to life or death for myself and others in each choice and step and breath. Do I hold my comfort, and let another suffer that lack, to I hold my darkness to afraid to act? I want what I want but at what cost? Does my having mean your loss?

Do I give over my life like St Teresa of the lepers? Selling all I have, releasing all I desire and all I hold dear in the service of love and care? No? Then what shall I do, give what I have as meager as it is, trust that the gifts and the heart I have choose love over death will find a means to tell stories and offer tangible justice and hope and a friend.

My heart breaks, it's spilling tear come through the voice now dead on the radio. His calls for justice echo mine, as my voice echos his in space and time. I want to follow to see the changes to run into not away from the call of love. To sing "what's happen to you" to see the transformation of those so dear into the creative and bright beauties they were destined to be. Here in my room cold and late I hold on to the dreams and desires to create for myself for others for the needs of the hidden.

clear sight

2011-11-21T01:05:00.000-08:00

i stand in a small little room facing dreams and that which destroys them. with each note and step forward i choose in the moment to trust and hold faith. slowly with practice and the late night encouragement of dear friends i believe in the gifts already at my disposal. it still floors me to stand here. my life is suddenly a space where the desires of my heart's hidden corners come to fruition before skeptical eyes. in beauty and grace i see the hope of a dawning new day.

ghosts and restless tides

2011-11-16T21:14:00.000-08:00

it's the madness and chaos of hormones and night that make me want to chuck everything out the window right now or burn it down, right? is it that sickening dread that sits like a dark and evil ghost at the end of my bed. the fears of pent up crisis crawling out of my mind and taking shape in the real world. sleep calls and comes but her draught isn't sweet. it's the stuff of haunting dreams and rude awakening on 333. the claustrophonic sense hovers as the grief weights down like a hard and cold rain...this can't all be mine this emotional baggage. who's sending me their bad juju, have i been mistaken for a angel of reckoning? the white queen of restoration unable to pull herself out of the shallow grave?

here the fairy godmothers are on strike and the genies distracted by union bartering...rumpelstiltskin's in the corner make bets faster than a bookie on the last fight of the night. he'll give you a loan but the price is always on the steep end of high. there is no magic wand or spell to make this go away. assaults and sorrow come through the overheard great words of advice, their truth is the knife just a bit too dull and tight. i guess it's that season of wintertide depression, the reminder of my need to hibernate and hide.

alone...

2011-11-15T21:50:00.000-08:00

A gypsy heart with a timid soul, I was made to wander the world in the company of people. In their absence my mind plays tricks on me and my feeble heart fills up with lies. Hours filled in with mindless baking and television's talking heads. Nothing feels quite right...the color has been slightly bleached and nothing tastes as it should. My essencial energy is drained, with all the wanton chaos that has taken to squatting in my body...through that building they enter the other two, heart and mind. These are not your cool social justice keep power from the man type squatter thoughts oh no! These bastards are ruckus teenager thoughts bent on the destruction of something because it's not their own and there for not sacred. Demon beasts, armed to the teeth with years of self hatred and doubts they spew out emotion violence like it was the new hip style. After years of learning I know how this game is played...throwing kisses to the dog with promises of return. I run to the city armed with music, car keys, and a phone. Into her arms I move to be enveloped by people, by friends, and by life vivid and moving fast. To wash away the unrightness of being alone.

slug growth...

2011-11-15T21:31:00.000-08:00

These are the days of slow steps, little inch-like movements across the floor. Each forward movement seems to be met with counter tension and balance, pulling back the way from which I came. The little budlings of hope are just breaking ground when the torrents begin to pummel. Tenaciously the weather each assault with determination. Life feels much like trying to pull something out of a contained tide at the just the right moment...snapping photo after photo trying to get that perfect smile or fling of the head where his hair catches air. While it seems like treadmill time, there is the slow movement of molasses, the ever so steady dropping of that damned leaking faucet. And someday, soon I'm sure, it will rush like a wild river an unstoppable flood. I will find my heart's creative path and fall in love...maybe just maybe even have babies. In those days I will miss the lazy pace of this time. The space and time filled endlessly with breath. A vast open book as yet unwritten and unread.

Visions of Christ....(NFTPL #60)

2011-11-14T21:10:00.000-08:00

Both of my parents worked in the arts and theatre world. My mom triple majored in art, theatre, and dance in college (just realized where my over achiever education strain comes from) and my dad worked in radio, multimedia and the theatrical world. This being the case my brothers and I grew up surrounded with musical theatre...at least half of the vinyl collection in our house was in that vein. Ian and I systematically would dance around the house to the opening of Jesus Christ Superstar and Switch on the Classics.

Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell are two of the defining musicals for my childhood, along with Company and Westside Story. In fact over the course of my childhood my mother directed and choreographed at least two productions of Godspell. These artistic expressions also have had an impact on how I view God and faith, I think in part they are responsible for my broad view of theology and artistic interpretations...in my conservative artistic household both of these were acceptable. Looking back it feels like such an oddity that they were so embraced because so many other things were not..."The Last Temptation of Christ" for example. Yet for whatever reason the musicals passed mustard and I soaked them up...especially the conflicts of the Mary Magdalene characters. In each musical the women have key transitional songs, "I don't know how to love him" and "Where are you going?" and it was these two songs which I kept coming back to. Not so much as an in love with Jesus because honestly that idea still for me is a bit skivey (a bit too much of the Jesus is my boyfriend mentality), but rather as the means for expressing my desire to be wanted and wanting another's love and all that come with that.

I also think that these two musical visions of Christ are what opened my eyes and heart to portrayals like "Jesus of Montreal", "Last Temptation of Christ", or even the Harry Potter series...the humanness of Christ became more evident to me through encountering these at a young age. I needed that a human God (Christ) rather than the all knowing all powerful dominating God which ran through my childhood.

really no slavery....i beg to differ

2011-11-09T21:41:00.000-08:00

this afternoon i was informed by the child i nanny for, that her teacher, (LA county school & wealthy neighbourhood) told her that there was no slavery in california! better yet that it wasn't slavery because people were aware of what was happening to them, in essence that they had chosen it so it couldn't be slavery. first of all my internal reaction was "what the fuck", i mean really this is totally a bullshit line of reasoning ie blame the victim. but what i told her was that in spite of everything on this one issue her teacher was very very very wrong. the reason this even came up was because, this child is very inquisitive always wanting to know where i am going after work and what i am doing. so the morning after the "not for sale campaign" event a few weeks ago she wanted to know all about the organization and why (beyond black rebel) i would want to go to an event like that. i told her a bit about the fact that on a daily basis there are women, men and children who are being sold into slavery or abused by other people and that is human trafficking. i even showed her slavery map http://www.slaverymap.org/ and where close to her house on a map there have been documented cases of human trafficking. she wanted to know why this would happen to someone...how could it happen to someone, the same questions i find my self asking. i think in part she was impacted because in her class they are talking about slavery in the forming of the united states government. so while i am completely appalled that a teacher would say this i am so thankful for the chance to challenge a curious young mind on the reality of abuse. it also reminds me, because of my reaction, how i need to get more and more involved in fights for justice, especially in the areas of marginalized women and children.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG7O8d_4eTA&feature=related

tension and neurosis

2011-11-08T12:51:00.000-08:00

i seem to have this pesky habit of getting completely irrational and neurotic when something good presents it's self in my life. suddenly i doubt everything especially that good and think that everyone involved dislikes me and that i am capable of completely fucking everything up. i also get this over whelming desire to run far away in the other direction...because fear has gotten it's sticky fingers locked on my heart.

so with the flood of goodness that has show up over the last few months this has become a near present reality in my brain. after every positive experience or interaction i over analyze every comment and nuance and only see the negative or off moments. in the moment i can trust the truth of the situation but after that truth high tails it out of town leaving me with chaotic brain. so i battle for the truth, i tear my finger off the doubts and trust in the fact that i am not where i am based on my own merit. rather i am here because opportunity and doors opened and i was willing to walk through them. each moment is a battle of wills but so far neurosis has lost most of the battles and the tension has spurred me to keep moving forward.

little by little with my small hands

2011-11-03T16:37:00.000-07:00

how does the call of social justice, artistic expression, and faith weave together to create the tapestry of a life? each feels like it's call is all consuming, demanding everything...those higher up in one have the luxury of combinations but for me the poor graduate student with looming student loans the fusion seems impossible. there must be mentors and those further on the journey that can lend light and guidance...stand as fortifications and bulwarks when the terror sets in. that terror that eats at my mind when i am laying alone in the dark wondering how in the world i will be able to live and have space to create.

yet a marked heart cannot separate those things which call and scream of it's needs... those desires that i cannot escape. it's no ordinary life of houses, salaries, and new cars for me...it may not be phds and educational institutions or tour buses and protest marches but my life will be something unique and binding. today i was called by the earth, land, and social justice by the harm of not dealing with sexuality and embodiedness. i can't escape into a world where i turn a blind eye to slavery, the buying and selling of people, abusing the land and nature, physical violence and domestic abuse, and the harming that happens so often when people receive power. the rocks and ground cry out when the voices of people are silenced. the whole of creation screams because of the abusive harm happening every day.

i don't know much and it all seems so overwhelming, as it should says the wise old woman, yet little steps day by day bring about change. so i must trust in the opportunities and the process instead of allowing the weight of needs to stop my efforts as small as they maybe.

VIDEO!!!!

2011-10-30T22:09:00.000-07:00

Here's the link to the 2nd video project but first public video my best friend Shiloh and I produced, directed and created...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9F7NtZFl0Ao Please watch it. And keep posted we will in the next few weeks be posting the first video...which was inspired by a Black Rebel Motorcycle Club song.

back again to the days of tremors

2011-10-30T22:05:00.000-07:00

it breaks my heart to watch you suffer...not because of the twitches and the stuttering and the effects of this awful disease, but because of the emotional ravaging that comes. the post tremor fears and the deep held thoughts that seep out in you partial state. your strength and tenacity shine through as well as your humor. in the midst of an episode i say something stupid to make you laugh you come back with "i'd laugh if you would say something funny" which in turn leads to that much needed release. i hate and cherish these moments with you, hating the fact that you are experiencing them yet cherishing the beauty and grace in which you move through them.

disease and trauma, laughter and love these are the elements in which we construct each day. walking in valleys ripely filled with landmines and hand grenades ready to explode the call is to walk the path in trust of the ones who have gone before. i am constantly afraid of tripping the wires that lead to death where as you stride confidant in the way being made and the subtle adjustments to have as we go. my heart is filled with love for those i love in joy and suffering i ask for their restoration and life.

2011-10-30T02:54:00.000-07:00

once again i was standing in a room as harmonies and rhythmic sonnets swirled around my head like ether. there was fake blood on the floor, werewolves priests and mummies on stage...it's halloween weekend after all. i felt like an alien come for observation, seeking to connect and understand that which is most intimate and absolutely foreign. the ruckus teenagers bounced and moshed and i wondered if i was like that years ago. totally into the music to the point where it's magic carried me beyond awareness of those i was around. the speed at which guitarists strummed blew my mind and placed me in a odd surreal state...observation became my mo. my internal critic was in full assault so i stood my ground and let prayer and drum beats take me where i had to go...afloat in the mystery and beauty and symphonic waves kept me moving away from the deadly under tow.

around the bend

2011-10-26T00:21:00.000-07:00

in my future down a hidden hallway you sit. i don't know that face yet as i will know it then. then every curve and crease will be as known to me as my own hands. the details of your being etched forever on my mind and heart. today there are layers of others recent and past being packed away to make room. while i am the bearer of their tattooed impressions yours my dear will be the lasting one, the final cover for that glorious piece of art called love. your specter haunts and flows like mercury in the hand, moving away and coming back again. never quite visible, just sitting on the edge of my eye line. there are days when i do not believe i will ever open the door behind which you are hid, rather i will be left to the maybes and the heartbreaks and the compromising situations that never are right. so i ask for sleeping visions and bulwarks to hold and fortify my waiting. bring a glimpse of seer's insight in my unconscious seeing.

mumbling....

2011-10-23T00:15:00.000-07:00

this and that

here and there

Hope comes to me in slivers of image

craftily she rebuilds what has been broken

taking shattered dreams and creating a mosaic of epic portions.

often i do not see her swiftly moving hands

then i am stopped in my tracks and have a vision of what is being created

the whole is beyond my ability to see but the bits of here and there

form into artistry.

Love comes with her sweet caresses and her tender words

softly she whispers truths into the scars built from years of battling

with a light but firm touch she sheers off my dragon scales

and releases the human in me

these long held wounds are bound with fast acting potions

and songs that speak into being restoration of that which it seemed irrevocably destroyed

lazarus once again steps out of the tomb long since thought to be dead

as my work weary body longs for bed

that landmine called my brain is suddenly cleared

no more wild and claustrophobic maze but a meditative labyrinth filled with contemplative peace

gifts....

2011-10-22T17:21:00.000-07:00

this week we have been reading a book on forgiveness, giving and receiving for my ethics class. it's a great and beautiful book by miroslav volf. it has been one of those books coupled with a few other experience and interactions that have been shifting my perspective. as part of that shift i am actively trying to cultivate practices and habit that are rooted in developing some key character traits that i have wanted to have. yet this post is not about that per say...it's about being offered and receiving unexpected gifts.

for example in class on thursday we had a quiz, for which because of being stuck in traffic i was left with three minutes to compose the essay. to which one, that one being me goes oh shit...well i guess i blew that one. yet that didn't happen because in part of this book we are reading. as an example of grace and gifting half of the quizzes were free passes, and since i was the last one to class that day the only quiz left was the free pass. what an incredible grace to be given a 100% when i had be stuck in traffic getting there and also had failed my previous quiz. and tonight i got an email saying that i am being given another special and unexpected and unmerited gift. unlike the quiz i feel the weight of unworthiness in this gift...this one feels totally and absolutely undeserved.

as i look over the experiences and opportunities i have been given this year i am completely amazed. it's like a wellspring of blessing and "holy shit" moments have flooded into my life. those secret desires of my hidden heart are being offered as gifts that are so normal it's weird. today was one of those days where the reality of my current life and path hit full force...driving around silverlake trying to sell some clothes and get food and show shiloh more of why i love this part of town, i kept having these "oh my...holy crap" smacks in the face. this beautiful crazy wild thing...which includes the more and more frequent driving home at the late hours of the evening wee hours of the morning...is my life and the most like the life i have wanted ever since i could remember. this doesn't negate the badness or darkness but it is nice to see the light and the beauty and the gift of it all.

friends and lovers....

2011-10-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

in another incarnation of your self you would have been a revival preacher.
tents and bible thumping and supernatural healing the whole pageantry of it all.
instead you are the shakespearean fool, who feels he's only yelling into the wind
you see truth through the slats of death and creativity
the pagan priest of heartache and sorrow who longs for joy and happiness,
even as you spit on it's vivid specters.
you play with words and ideas and images like i play with paint and paper.
carving them up to create something new, to express the in expressible.
these are gifts of wonder and delight, a healing balm of gilead
the giving and receiving well are core human pleasure and you are part of that magical economy.

she blows like the head winds wild and free
an anchored boat in the choppy sea.
the storms she has weathered with grace and beauty seem almost impossible for me to conceive.
even with a irish red temper she finds light and purpose and joy in the shadow.
laughter comes easily and the tenacity of pressing forward.
nothing seems impossible with her by your side.
she is the sea nymph and queen rolled into one sparking and vibrant watery lady

fragile angel with a strong spirit who delights in life
sweet and beautiful she still sees only the awkward child of her odd youth
with cigarette and music she shelters and buffers her self against the assaults of daily life
drum sets and guitars and microphones call to her rousing from a deep sleep
yet she doesn't know how talented and able she is to play in the world around her.
all the beautiful friends are giants to her jack...she lost the truth of that story a life time ago
slow she is waking to see that ingenuity and guts are the markers of success in these watery ventures.

the two mothers, one partnered one single
each seeking to mend broken knees and broken hearts
and all that comes with bringing life to another being
we speak in moments and slivers of time between work and bed
they must steal what is no given a moment to rest and be and clear the head
i stand ever in awe of them the unsung work and journey
of my two beautiful and strong friends

innocent as a dove and fierce as a snake she is a fairy creature
faith and love and beauty are markers of her touch
they are through the divine what she is defined by most
creativity pours out her pores like water, it is the air she can't help but breath
the jadedness has yet to fade her luster and light
she bounces like a monkey and loves with a whole hearted abandon

book lover

2011-10-19T01:00:00.000-07:00

i am a book whore
i stumble over my self to fill this addition
bookstores, especially the used variety, are my own secret predilection
if entering into one of the purveyors peddling words
i will be lost for days upon hours
the hit of dust and paper is so heady and over powering
why would one ever want to leave
there are friends to be had adventure to be up taken

perusing my shelves i wonder if i'll ever kick my habit again.
i am a book whore

touch

2011-10-19T00:43:00.000-07:00

Eyes filled with tears and sorrow, kisses and fingers offering the solace in pain. A familiar song echoing the heartache and joy of human connection. Theses are memories I hold from a hot and ancient summer eve. In that moment I would have given anything to heal the hurt and offer a space large enough for you to breath. Giving what I could, I held you hand tightly, kissed those huge tears as they rolled down you cheeks. It's funny the song never pulls at my mind like a film scene did tonight...for the hundred times I've heard it since that day I do not connect the song with those moments with you, rather the emotions I felt were captured in a celluloid still and cut at the wound I thought had been healed. Heavy was the weight of my loss and the absence of what I thought in those seconds we would become. It's a funny thing how art moves and resurfaces memories; for this one a song pierces the core for that one a film and this one a novel. Each is the vessel and conduit through which the heart has been explored and held.

friends?

2011-10-17T00:14:00.000-07:00

bumbling i fumble for words, i like you so much that i fail to express that in verbal discourse.
it's all awkwardness and courtesies, and stupid repetitions.
why can't i convey in spoken language the depth of my being in response to the depth of yours.
this liking is all very innocent...just the i want to talk, drink wine, and listen to vinyl variety.
yet with you in front of me i loose all levels of cognitive ability.
i wish that i could say it more clearly in words and clear language...will you be my friend?

hotel bed

2011-10-17T00:06:00.000-07:00

We, you and I, were to broken souls searching for a better half, a savior. For a few moments in time on a hotel bed we each thought we had found the solution. In my heart I knew better than that, the truth that an other's love is only a part and never the whole. I got lost in caring and in turn you got board with the reality of it all. Like a chip of a glacier, whatever it was between the two of us melted away. Foolishly I try to hold it together in my incomplete hands willing what is dead back to life. There are days when I want to roll back time like an ocean tide to start over again with the purity of renewed sand. I run circles of "if onlys" back and forth in my mind trying to find a way for it not to have landed on this out come. A romantic choose your own adventure, if you can just pick the right storyline and dialogue then we could be offered a better alternative ending. Yet I was always shit with those books forever falling to my death or getting bitten by the cobra. Ich liebe dich and knowing that often that isn't enough to keep a relationship going. Those moments were all that our relational cocktail was allotted, no more refills for it was last call. Salvation needs to come from another too much baggage too many holes to be filled.

memory and transformation

2011-10-15T23:04:00.000-07:00

Last night I had this profound flash back while listening to music and trying to study. Recently at my first trip to Amoeba Records (I know I have lived here way to long for this to be my first foray into this music mecca) I found two out of print records by Michael Been's band The Call. I remember mentioning to my Dad a few months ago about The Call and Michael because we were talking about BRMC. He said that the names were sounding similar but he couldn't recall off hand the band. Given my Dad's connections and history there is a possible that he and Michael crossed paths. What you also need to know for this story is that my Dad worked in multimedia production for most of life and that he paired music with the video or photographic slideshows he created. Growing up in the back of my childhood memories sit songs that he used for productions...music that I don't remember hearing outside of my Dad's studio. So back to last night, I'm sitting at my desk reading articles on my computer when a song of the Call's comes on shuffle...it startled me into paying attention to the music. It was "What's Happened to You". I couldn't visualize how I knew the song only that every fiber in my being knew it and knew that it was linked to my Dad. As my mind has mulled it over and over again as to why and how this is connected I realized that it might be the song he used for a Easter service at some large church in Portland, OR where I was raise, that featured video of my mom dancing. It seems like something that she would have created an incredible liturgical dance to...having the lovely cadence and rhythm that seems like Godspell or gospel chorus toned down a bit. An eighties version of Mumford and Sons' "Awake My Soul" that beautiful call to remember the transformation of life and restoration of the soul.

It's so funny I read those words and am hit in the face by my damned hopeful heart...all evening I have been wrestling again with doubt and faith, questioning my life and feeling so crushed by the weight of desire and fear. Yet even in that my words and thoughts are brought back to things that affect me, art that impacts me...my little mustard seed of hope and heart of care that wants so badly for all those I love and care about to experience the freedom, love, joy and faith that I find so impossible to hold for longer than ephemeral spaces. That which I want to systematically run from and find in the arms of a lover and the creation of quality art. These battles I have which I believe others are capable of escaping...yet I am not? Maybe that's the memory, the point in my connection to the Call song...that while I can't see clearly I am still being changed, molded and shaped into something more. The scared and chaotic girl paralyzed and rot with insecurity is becoming a strong and bold woman who finds her space and lives wildly into that unfettered by the demonic voices of depression and failure.

a battle or a dance

2011-10-14T07:56:00.000-07:00

like a see-saw my heart jumps back and forth over faith and desire. often they seem unable to sit together in the same space and then something comes shooting across the line like a spitfire. all ruckus and dust reminding me that what is impossible is often made possible. two elements which seem to be in conflict yet actually meet and fuse together like a unique pairing of metals in the welders fire. gifts of unexpected grace and opportunity are scattered across the dusty road of my life and yet if one doesn't appear or i have to stop for a breath the tension rises and i feel my self waiting for the sky to fall. what little faith i have in trusting that this clay vessel of a life is meant for goodness. that whatever is in charge of the whole of creation, God as God is, desires all for the glory. that which is and always was and always will be, intimately entangled in our bug-like lives. if so then desire and faith two sides to my warring heart not in battle but rather dancing together trying to figure out how to lead. a choreography day by day following the movements of my love and need.

dark clouded days

2011-10-08T19:41:00.000-07:00

over days and weeks in and out of seasons i ride the perpetual wave of depression. there are days that are flooded with grey clouds and confusion and others where the rays of sun make everything seem golden. it's a terrible ride that i want so badly to get off of most days. for much of my life situations were so clouded that i never realized how bad the depression i suffer from is, then i moved last year to southern california and my vision changed. the world has shifted and i was living in a place of light and possibility. being in a different environment open my eyes to the true reality of my malfunctioning brain and emotions.

i am so frustrated by my in ability to change this or get off this ride. more than anything i wish to find a balance to see more beauty in my self and my life than the darkness. i see light and beauty in all those around me yet because of the misfiring of my own damned brain, i cannot seem to see clearly in my own.

clouded heart

2011-09-28T22:37:00.000-07:00

dead animals scattered the road today, the first folded up like a a peaceful toy. as the grey clouds rolled in across los angeles my heart shifted to a rain-clouded state. words, emotions, and heartbreak broke forth like a cracked bottle of blue ink. pain welled up inside as i was shocked through with the real presence of a friend's reality. even the beauty of my fair city at night from a sacred hill could not starve off the growing despair and loneliness. i drove through streets and neighbourhood that usually make my heart sing with joy but tonight only exacerbated the longing as yet unfulfilled.

the losses mounted heavy war and the dark and demon voices threw sucker-punched attacks. for a fleeting moment through a screen door an image of my friend offered a respite from the brewing storm. with a backward glance i saw him studiously at work and it swelled the fickle organ with joy. but that quickly evaporated into smoke as the darken cloud cover returned for the night. the words of the preacher...meaningless, meaningless it is all chasing after the wind. sit in the deep corners of my mind being rolled back and forth and back again like a philosophical game of ball.

desert dreams burnt and faded

2011-09-26T11:29:00.000-07:00

in the clear sky and the wind blown street i left the restorative desert for home and the adventures that await. this weekend offered opportunity for rest and shifting perspectives. the rugged stillness of the dusty street in pioneertown was exactly what my heart needed to get ready for the mad dash of shooting and school and whatever else may come rushing in.

music is a conduit for many aspects of life in my world so the ability to listen to great music for the whole of a weekend in a strangely beautiful and rustic space was incredible. especially the chance to see the black ryder play again...they are one of the bands that i could watch for hours. the music transports me to such a happy and grounded space of mystery and creativity. there is something about watching people create that inspires one to continue their own creative process. the fluidity of this band (along with BRMC, the Weepies, Bon Iver, & a few others) always makes my heart ache to collaborate with others.

this upcoming week is a mad dash of school starting again, a music video shoot and both of my brothers and sister in law being here. it is monday morning and i already feel rushed and divided. as i sat in the bathroom at work filling up water balloons for two ten year old's to have a fight in the cool 73 degree and cloudy weather of los angeles i realized that i would rather be filling up balloons for a video shoot or being lackey on a film but also that the skills that apply for this position oddly translate to the field i really desire to work in.

over the last few days a possibility of moving into the video/film field has come about, the chance to be mentored and learn from a woman who's art i am always in awe of. if this happens i will be so incredibly happy! like others i know it's a hard thing to hold on to the step by step process of entering a vision that is yet to be fully seen. but that is part of the process in these things...hope in things unseen and faith in the visions and prophesies given.

now i know and knowing is half the battle (NFTPL #59)

2011-09-23T17:06:00.000-07:00

over the last several months and days and weeks i have been in a process of trying to figure out what i am doing and what i want to be doing. i'm in school that's a given, especially since i don't want to be spending all this money and not get a degree out of the deal. when i originally moved down to los angeles and thought about school my goal was to get a phd and teach. yet because of several experiences and conversations as of late i realize more and more how much the phd track really isn't for me right now. what i want is to actually create things, not to just talk about art but really work in the music and film industries.

for much of my life i have felt like a child standing on the other side of a glass window watching as everyone else moves into life and being...and i'm stuck just watching and wanting to play. when the madness sets in that is still how i feel, that i will never get in the club house per say and rather will spend the rest of my days standing on the outside of life looking in. i have always felt like i am ages behind everyone else in the game and can't image getting close to catching up. as someone who is absolutely non competitive this fear or impression usually is what makes me walk away and the seeming impossibility of it all. yet if i don't want to waste my talents or life this cannot be my response. instead i need to grab the proverbial bull by the horns and hold on until i receive entrance and blessing into the places i feel calling and draw. i need to embrace and step into my wild bold side, the part of me that can walk in and take a room by storm inspiring and encouraging others to create greatness together. whatever has happened in the past be it two months ago or ten years no longer get's to define how i play in this moment here and now. so i try my damnedest to step out into boldness and risk failure and f**king up for the chance to be successful, answer my heart's calling and trust that God is good. not such a bad thing all in all.

visions of the wilderness

2011-09-23T17:03:00.000-07:00

a quick hour and a half drive on the 10 freeway leads to a rustically beautiful place called the desert. this is a place of coyotes, snakes, cactus, and westerns. it is a place that on first glance seems barren and empty yet is teeming with life and beauty. there is magic in this space, greatness has passed here before me and will once again come a calling.

sitting in the passenger seat i was privy to the haunting mountains of southern california where my aunt and uncle live, the sky pure blue filled with clouds and light, and the huge windmills that create natural energy and stand like guardians against the sky. it is a place where one can get lost in the vastness and nature, turn a corner and find God or a devil standing on a rock offering life or death. as i drank in the landscape images and stories rushed in my head. whole moving pictures aided by the soundtrack of a favored band.

for the last ten years or so i have been hearing stories about pioneertown. maybe it was counting crows talking about being here for a blues/blue grass festival, then graham parsons and his death in joshua tree, u2's album art, pappy & harriet's...and this constant desire to spend a weekend in the desert with musicians and artists drinking wine and talking about the great questions of life. laughter, joy, creative expression and community of like minded people is always a wonderful dream for me. and now at least part of that dream awaits me this weekend. something incredible will come out of this experience i know.

in the midst of the darkness i will embrace light and beauty and creativity and *hopefully* meet new friends and connect with those already known. tonight i plan on drinking a bit, imbibing haunting and beautiful music and staring up into a star filled night sky!

grey clouded days

2011-09-22T12:26:00.000-07:00

Suffering from depression sucks. It comes and goes like tidal waves threatening each time to consume me. What is the worst part about it is that I can't pull myself out of the chaos. I know that it's missed brain fires and false illusions but in the moments the "bad voices" are so real and tangible. Where as the voices of goodness and encouragement are fleeting and ghost like entities.

While I do not become completely nonfunctional when the waves hit, depression slows down my momentum and leaves my head and heart and soul in such a space of shattered holding together that simple tasks seem to fill impossible weight. Caught in this state I often find myself begging God and the universe, wondering if I am even capable of joy and happiness. Would love, creating art, or the birth of a child really be a moment of life giving space or would it quickly become something filled with dread. More than anything in these times of dark shadowed Eeyore days I want to get out of the over thinking and the pain to run towards simplicity and joy. The goodness of life is often what seems so impossible on a cloud shadowed day. I know people who ooze with life and relish life, their sincere pleasure seeps out like a perfume and permeates the spaces they enter. Yet so far I have been unable to tap into that kind of grounding and sense of self.

I feel the need for something outside of myself to jolt the life back into me so that I can stop wasting time and get on with the life I have been given and live. Because living with a hovering cloud of darkness is just not the way I want to be. Maybe therapy, maybe drugs (legal ones of course), maybe just spending time each morning being thankful. I don't know the solution or the re-orientation just that I need one badly.

inspiration

2011-09-21T01:23:00.000-07:00

Tonight I got to see Bon Iver play at the Gibson theatre. And it was incredible, artistically it was so lovely to watch a band create the layered and haunting sounds that fill the three albums. The bigger rendition of Blood Bank blew my mind and filled my head with powerful images. What was most impressive was watching how songs that were written and played by one person but filled with layer upon layer on an album could be recreated with such a solid sound by such talented multi-instrumentalist who also provided such perfect background harmonies.

Yet beyond the just mesmerizing beauty of this performance and the chance to hang out with a friend, the most powerful aspect of the show for me was that it helped pull me out of the fog and chaos that has been filling my days as of late. For the last three days at least I have felt weighted down by doubts, insecurities, and seeming impossibilities. Randomly for no reason a wellspring of tears burst forth as I drove through Pasadena and Silverlake. My stupid brain has been in regret mode turning memories, people and dreams over and over and over again and then whipping my tender heart with them. It's been a brutal of things. So it was that mental space that I drove to meet up with friends to go to the concert this evening. Honestly I had a moment of contemplating whether or not I even wanted to go at all. It took a while to get there and get in because we had to wait for one of the people in our party to show up. Yet once the music started it began to shift the dark and cornered parts of me. As I looked at Justin Vernon on the stage, I was reminded of the state he was in when he wrote what would become the first Bon Iver album "For Emma, Forever ago" pretty much everything in his life was falling apart. And from that came beauty, creation and the chance to do what he loved. This reminder brought a sense of hope for me, in spite of how impossible and stupidly incompetent I feel these days and how much the dark voices scream failure I can move forward. There is something to all of this desire and seedlings of talent and the experiences I carry. Some how they will be worked into something beautiful and meaningful. I was not created to just stand on the sidelines and pine away at the store window. Rather God is working and moving and I need to take the steps in front of me and follow the path that leads to my heart.

2011-09-19T16:52:00.000-07:00

always i search for the answers to questions i didn't dare speak. in the face of your current apathy they rise up along with the overwhelming desire to do something, anything to catch your attention again. this game of my childhood is no longer fun anymore...the searching and crawling and waiting for your damned light and grace to once again shadow my face and throw kernels of affection. those crumbs that are suppose to tide me over the long dry season of your absence. but like any trail of crumbs they fail to satisfy the aches, the needs and the ravenous hunger pains. i need, i want, i hope for something more. a career, a love, a space where i no longer have to prove my worthiness for the affection of another. but it all feels like the inarticulate tears that spring from my eyes today, the dull pain in my chest that i can't seem to understand or name. this tough and tender girl is feeling weighted down by so many treasured desires and wants that she can't name.

musings (NFTPL # random insert)

2011-09-18T23:29:00.000-07:00

the wild dogs are howling in the street outside my window. their mournful cries echo my quandary state. these happy days of celebration always send me into a tailspin of introspection. the desire to play princess seems so very foreign to me like a letter written in chinese. some part of my swissed cheesed brain knows that i should be able to read and decipher the text but for whatever reason nothing wants to play. weddings and babies and traditional life...the ability to have a relationship for longer than two months. these are simple things that seem utterly impossible in the day to day life i live.

wandering seeker, i never seem to feel satisfied. there is always something missing or need just beyond the horizon. there are moments when i wonder if my ever present wanderlust could ever be filled enough to not need another hit of the exciting and dramatically thrilling. even when still and present, i have a overwhelming sense of movement. exteriorlly i know i seem stable and grounded a rock rooted and weighted, yet there burns this steady white hot fire deep with in the core of my being. traveling, moving, exploring, always watchful for the new and the need to create more experience more become more know more. and the dogs are calling. they speak a language i have yet to understand. they call my animal heart to remember and trust and find what's true

markings and memories

2011-09-18T23:26:00.000-07:00

words fail and i think of your fingers. the memories of ghosts flutter through my brain like the birds overhead. crows and images arrest my mind in a momentary pause, then comes the flood of things locked away for safe keeping. these little daydreams aren't much in the way of grand hopes more like little prayer papers being burned and sent up into the sky. art and coffee and the occasional cigarette help to turn my mind around. removing the traces of you by putting things back to where they belong helps too.

it impossible to escape any relationship unmarked. no matter how good or bad there is always a scar or tattoo left there for posterity sake. while one of my many "yous" has been gone for ages, dates and phrases are inescapably seared into my sponge like head. with each face and heart i look for the one who is well shaped to my unique contours. a lover who will not get board (as many do) understanding the depths of my hidden light and darkness. the control freak and the wild hippy child that somehow comes together in one being. the earth goddess nature mamma who love to be pampered. the christian who is intrigued by myth and rituals and religions. the sceptic who can't help but believe. with each person i hope beyond hope that this one holds the glass slipper. that the fit will be right and true. until then i am stalked by the visions of lovers past and the hope of someone new.

tears for a lost love

2011-09-17T08:23:00.000-07:00

cloudy morning, overcast sky in the city of sunshine and glitter.

your perpetual heartbreak and sorrow flies across the invisible cords of binding and stabs my soft spot spaces. the ache that comes with the words of truth...i can't fix it for you none one can but you, they are painfully true. my deepest fear is that people keep feeding that darkness and ego bird buried inside your tender and barely held together heart. just enough bits so that you are sustained and don't have to face the darkness night of the soul or rather bright light of the day in your case. so you never venture out to the place of healing and life. sitting as spectator with my insignificant bottle of love i watch as your consorts continue to drag you down the pit of never to return with their flattered and blinded complementary lies. with each offering of love to quench your dire thirst i hope a truer deeper reality is revealed. but alas as appearing now i find my kernel of hope is misplaced and dreary. for you crave the highs and lows and self constructed pain and joy like an addict on the ride of his life. you need there to be so much vibrance these days to feel something to touch something that feels alive through the numbed out days that few if any can reach through. i dreamed a vision months ago on a long dark drive through the canyons....i was touching you, feeling your heart beat against my tender exploring hands, you kissed me and then frozen. nothing i could do would shake your statued state away. you were in an instant gone and tears flooded my gaze. that prophetic vision is what i pray to be ended each night and day. no longer should you be bound to the dark worm of yesterdays.

changeling children of addictions hold

2011-09-15T22:18:00.000-07:00

chaos swirls around as the changelings run in and out of the room. simplicity and strait forwardness are missing in this equation. yes i like drama and excitement says lady alice but not this much..how did i end up falling down this hole? does vibrance and creativity always have to be bound to a little bottle or a pill. i'm seeking adventures that don't have to be encased in the hazy of acid visions and terminal days. my heart is swilled and swirled with love and the thunder clouds threaten heartbreak in their cries. i don't want to loose the beauty just the hatred.

chasing white rabbits we all fall down a hole...some like humpty dumpty to never come back again. please don't become the shadowed one's, the friends we raise a glass to with shotgunned holes to stark and wide to ever truly be filled again. saint michael visites less and less and wide-eyed hope has taken a few arrows now. i want your creatured hearts to choose the good and not the needles darkened calling. we're all shattered bit's of beauty, flawed but chosen creations....there is nothing between you and restoration except for you, yourselves.

all these years it's been falling through the looking glass. standing outside as those i love wander into the cold-hearted arms of faithless lovers. we both want to see each other's face in the crowd for years to come...the children of a different cord. yet we must not be taken by the siren birds of death for that to be the way.

shameless self promotion

2011-09-15T02:44:00.000-07:00

a quick note for those wanting our production company website or the interview with scott von ryper which i helped with...will actually write more soon.

production company= www.31stepsproductions.com

interview= www.blackrebelmotorcycleclub.com/askian (you have to go down to older posts i think it is the fifth post down not entirely sure)

that's it for now unless you're a band that has children (or drunks or whomever who need a bit of help) that need to be watched and corralled on tour or you would like a music video/interview hit me up. i'm a great sherpa and have amassed a odd but helpful skill-set that could be very useful on the road.

that it for now!

* and very soon we should have the video we shot in march and the interview with one of the artists we are currently working with up online for people to see.

a few good things

2011-09-12T01:24:00.000-07:00

here are some of my current favorite listings....top five, desert island, bunker what-have-you listings of books music and movies

books~
*walking on water by madelenine l'engle- ever since the first time i read this book in college many years ago i try to re-read it at least once a year. i LOVE the way madelenine speaks to faith and art, valueing each in the integrity of themselves not trying to force one to serve the purposes of the other.

*2666 by roberto bolano~ my friend paul recommended this book after we had read david foster wallace's infinite jest over the summer for a reading group and i had attempted and gotten half way through thomas pychon's "gravity's rainbow". the book is three interlacing stories that all connect to a fictionalized version of juarez, mexico.

*animal dreams by barbara kingsolver~ i tried several years ago to read the posionwood bible and yet couldn't get through it at all. yet when i picked up this book two summers ago i was floored and enticed by the story. then i was delighted to find that it was on our book list last spring for my theology and lit class.

girl in landscape by jonathan lethem- i found lethem through the musician deb talan of the weepies....she had written a song based on his book "motherless in brooklyn" when i tried to get it from the seattle public library it was check out but this one wasn't. based in part on the story of the john wayne film "the searchers" this book blew my mind and i was caught. i really love everything i have read by this man with the exception of "as she climbed across the table". "gun, with occational music" is also a great read.

gonzo-which is stories and letters and people writing about their experiences with the late hunter thompson. while i don't agree with the way he died i really enjoy the man's writing and perspective on life. i feel like he had and integrity and hope which many other writers in this genre lacked.

films~

*scott pilgrum vs the world~ it's funny, the cast is great and it's based on a graphic novel!

*shopgirl~ steve martin is incredible all around. i love the book and the film....enough said.

* blue valentine~ the utter heart ache of two people who cannot seem to connect after years together is horrific and beautifully constructed.

* the fall~ lee pace, great story telling, beautiful visuals and epic scope....i just say watch the movie already ok

*monsoon wedding/rachel getting married~ the vibrance of india/the northeast, realistic family dynamics and trying to sort through them, the chaos of weddings, the beauty of people coming together, and music and celebration

albums~

*the whole BRMC catalogue~ i can't get enough of this band, live studio whatever...i'm sold. their version of the true blood theme song is incredible...and live they are hands down the sexiest and most powerful band.

* the black ryder buy the ticket take the ride~ ever since i heard this album i have been mesmerized by the music of aimee nash and scott von ryper...i have gotten to see them play live a few times over the last eight months and am always in awe. in addition i got to help my friend iAN interview scott for the BRMC website and truly enjoyed the chance to chat about art and music with scott. support good music by the album. lastly even if you are totally antiwhistling listen to and watch the video for "sweet come down" scott has the sexiest whistle i have ever heard in my life!

*ryan adams~ heartbreaker and love is hell parts 1 & 2~ ryan adams is incredible...with the band whiskeytown he created beautiful music and as a solo artists he has continued to do so. both of these albums are filled with heart break and love. and his cover of oasis's wonderwall is my absolute favorite version of the song.

*the head and the heart~ this seattle band is wonderful and listening to this album reminds me so much of what i miss about that area. they are uniquely northwest sounding and lovely.

*tv on the radio~ dear science~ can't sing the praise of this band enough. there is so much diversity going on in their music.

so this is the briefest of lists more to come, i think, soon.

memories of the past and thoughts for the future 9-11

2011-09-11T19:47:00.000-07:00

ten years ago today i woke up to a ringing phone. blurry eyed i stumbled to answer the voice on the other end. it was my roommate's mother who words were "tell erika her father (who worked in the pentagon at the time) is ok and we're at war" that was the start of another world shift. the internal fear and chaos that i had battled since childhood had seeped out of me and flooded my reality on a global scale. all the terrifying possibilities of war and death and instability were suddenly smacking me and the rest of the country in the face.

for months after i walked around the world like a trauma victim waiting for the next event of shattering proportions, the next shoe to drop from the sky. the world was falling apart...people did stupid things in response to the hatred and religious convictions that lead people hijack to those airplanes and crash them into building. soon we were told that the loss of "rights" and "freedoms" would be for our own good that it would protect us from those who sought harm. even in my chaotic and fearful state i realized the bullshit of that line of thinking. both my sliver of christian faith and my understanding of our nation said that neither was worth something without, love and openness towards the other. there is always a possibility of harm when one loves and offers shelter. freedom is always the risk that you will be harmed. yet to not live freely, to violate the privacy and lives of people in the name of a protection that cannot ever truly be given is foolish. that does not mean i think one should not be wise and discerning...to be aware and cautious of things that seem like potential threats.

as i learned several years ago in abuse class the gift of fear is a great thing, our bodies and spirits are like the warning signals to our brains saying "no this man's a bastard get out now...or that dark alley will not be safe...or there is something wrong with this car don't get it in" through fear we are awaken to the reality that things are not what they seem. there is also a fear that paralyzes and bind which is not healthy. i recently hear courage described as the act of moving forward even when one is filled with fear (it was on an episode of what not to wear). fear can be a valuable tool if we allow it to be just that a tool. when looking at the world and people we should respond with caution but also openness.

this morning our pastor shared a dialogue with a muslim and talked about how it was important to look at places of commonality instead of difference. to build relationships and bridges because "religion" is institutions that seek to motivate via guilt and shame where as faith is the believe in God that seeks to care and build relationships with others. there is always a diversity of views held by those who follow each religious structure...and therefore we should engage with people to understand what they believe not just make blanket statements about a religion.

these last ten years have been filled with fear and wonder for many of us. the world shifted and we found that even though it was different from how we expected a life could be lived and created. no things are not the same as they were ten years ago. just like the shattering that happened to my family with my mother's car accident, the world and the united states experienced a shattering that changed the total direction in which it was going. what matters most is how we, my family & the united states, choose to engage with what has happened and live life. for some the choice is to look back only to not see the present to only hold a good memory of what was, for others it is the reminder of what is most sacred, and for others it is a reminder to live well with each day and choice one is given.

while i still hold the fear that came with that day and the events, looking back ten years later i see that fear can become courage and that is a wonderful and beautiful thing.

dreamy days

2011-09-11T17:06:00.000-07:00

feeling antsy and restless these days. often i get overwhelmed with the desire to hop a plane and create some wild adventure for myself but i have obligations and commitments to fulfill. given the chance i would ride on a tour bus and do whatever was need to travel with a band and see the world from that unique level. i stare at the half finished painting on my desk, the paint brushes and newly acquired pigments dreaming of new expressions of life. they keys of the computer call me to tell secrets and stories, releasing them into the netherworld of the interweb. my guitar and voice long for the fusion of singing with another in a room. the act of recording and creating music.

but i freeze up, i curl up in my bed and read stories of women seeking love and life. of the messiness of casual heartbreak and the drive that moves one beyond the monotony of the day to day. i live moment to moment and want a wild passion to take control. to fly on waves and surf on the clouds and dance with the angels in the presence of the evil and remain untouched by the darkness. so much of this life of mine has been a waiting, waiting to actually step into life. is sitting here in my room hot and cold covered in the half sided breeze of the airconditioning i wonder how this is vividness. i know i search for the mountain top instead of being content in the valley. i see the greener grass and don't always offer thanks for what i have been offered. yet i still want the dazzling and glittering life of self constructed daydreams. i want more wild nights and unexpected days.

the ocean calls longingly to me, sunset blvd echos her wanton call, the heart beat of the city stirs in my chest and i see a fellow traveler a partner in adventures.

reading list

2011-09-10T21:49:00.000-07:00

while i was reading through blogs tonight i figured i should do a few posts directing whomever is reading this one to other people who i greatly respect and love to read...these are just a few of the women. will do a few more but didn't want to overwhelm the three people who read my musings

Malia James (http://maliajamesjames.tumblr.com/)~ this lady is wonderfully talented and i love what she offers artistically! plus i secretly want to shadow her on a film shoot or two.

Patrice Jackson (http://drowningintheflame.blogspot.com/)~ lovely photographer!

Sarah Jurado (http://www.sarahjurado.com/)~ this lovely band manager and photographer always reminds me of what i love and miss about the northwest and it's indie music scene...

Carson Ellis (http://www.carsonellis.com/blog/) ~ i love the whimsical designs of this lady ever since i got her husband's first album ( the decemeberists) and her ways of drawing out her son through offering space for him to artistically and uniquely interact with the world...

Shiloh Woodard (http://lifewithincolor.blogspot.com/)~ my best friend and roommate...enough said!

a little story

2011-09-10T21:24:00.000-07:00

she sat there wondering "did i matter, or was i a novelty...just a passing fancy"

she had been missing one for whom she never quiet knew where she stood. he seemed often both solid as a rock and fluid as the sea. her own past with men left her uncertain of his words and confused by his actions. yet such was the way of relationships she was learning, clarity was often just a passing fancy. in between him and now there had been a few others. men who made it obvious what they wanted and how they thought of her. these men also happened to be well uninteresting to her boring and unattractive. they certainly couldn't hold a candle to the man she didn't understand. his secrets and being were like a present or treasure that she couldn't help but search for...the others where a purely a place filler a means to release unmet tension from before. she hated that fact but it was a fact none the less. facts kept bubbling up to the surface of her self knowledge truths she had never known before. this man he seemed like a gateway, a gateway drug in ways, his presence in her life opened up whole worlds unexplored. no that wasn't right she has known these things it has just been ages and ages since they were solidly formed in her own life.

she sat with her heart listening to all the angles it feed her for a while and then came the epiphany "just let it and him be what they will be"

and the pondering and wrestling went back in the box for now.

....ramblings...

2011-09-10T00:07:00.000-07:00

the moon is almost full, pregnant in the end of her cycle. this is the time where emotions take over and through things all out of whack. you're on my mind's eye seared with full moons, wild nights, and music always music. the "you's" of my various loves and incarnations and haunting me tonight. they sit there in a row as i silently beg the greatness for a new more solid lover. i want but do not need another, i know how to be alone. but togetherness, relationships these are things that are harder for me to grasp. to actually know another person in more ways than one...allowing them to penetrate both body and soul. that my friend is a whole other matter. it seems like the impossible possibility, a mythical creature which is whispered to you by dear friends in cars late at night or dark vampericly lit bars, or over dinner and sisterly conversations. even when it has become a momentary reality it does not seem to feel real. i look at the brightly shot sky and dream of a day when the bed beside me will be filled with a person instead of discarded blankets and pillows is such an oddity now. but that is the way of these things what seems the a mirage suddenly one day is a oasis filled with cool waters.

self sight

2011-09-09T23:56:00.000-07:00

so much of these days seems like a treasure hunt. bumbling around i keep searching for where i am called and how to get there. what i mean is that i am trying to figure out my skills and talents and experiences and where they all connect into a vocation. for someone with three degrees working on a fourth i often feel very stupid and very much like a complete failure. i realize in part it's because i can't see my own life as it is to others....unable to distinguish the forest from the trees. for example the final that i turned in a month ago and thought i totally failed, bullshitting most of what i wrote or pulling it out of think air, actually ended up being an "A" final exam. which means that i have a lack of sight when it comes to myself and my abilities, while those around me totally believe in my ability to do something i feel totally incapable of even beginning.

so maybe this searching that i seem to be doing is less of an external things and more about having a new way of seeing myself. as someone once told me "you have all you need right here it's just your own self that limits it". here is the place where i turn around and change my way of seeing. i begin to open my vision and see myself in the mirrors of others.

wrestling with the covers

2011-09-06T02:24:00.000-07:00

wrestling with thoughts and ideas and changes leads to rolling and tossing and turning...insomnia returns with the weight of to many things to do and i can't sleep. should be thankful that this is no longer a weekly or monthly occurrence or that at least these days i have the good sense to get up and be productive instead of laying there praying to God for sleep. so it's past 2am and here i sit listening to music and starting at a computer screen. while i pause a moment, two ideas cross my mind first lyrics from the song playing "it's a long, long way down" and second the realization that i moved beyond stuck. instead of stress i chose to get up to hit up contacts and move forward with current projects. with each step i take towards freedom and health i move forward out of the pits and holes i often feel lost in. alice may still follow the white rabbit but she has enough sense to have an escape route this time.

fear is conquered with each step towards what used to paralyze me in my tracks. if i am scare of success i need to keep moving toward desire instead of away from it. embrace the impossibility and believe that it is possible even though i can't see how. hop back on the bike and learn to blaze trails on a motorcycle, jump off cliff and out of planes, be open and trust in the talents and beauty which already are alive in this person. as i type yawns take over, sleep comes back to play.....

chat leading to a good ass-kicking (NFTPL #58)

2011-09-06T00:03:00.000-07:00

i love my dear best friend because she puts up with me in so many ways and is patient with my cycles of emotional chaos. she also holds up mirrors for me when i am unable to see the reality of my life and reminds me that i am loved and talented.

tonight what started out as a conversation about life became a good kick in the ass for me. the result being that she challenged me to decide what i really want out of life, what i really want to do whether or not she is going down that same path. i am now left to figure out options; like changing programs and schools, getting a new job, working multiple jobs or staying where i am at...there are so many paths once again. well actually they are always there just sometimes it's harder to see them.

here is a list of things that i do know: i love music especially live music, talking with people/interviewing people about their art, i love being a part of a community of artists who create and support each other, i like making film and the visual medium of images and stories, i love the visualization and emotive properties of film and music, i want to travel, i would love to tour with a band, i want to learn how to shoot film and take better pictures, i do not want to work at a church or any religious institution, i do want to work with artists, i do want to create...the list goes on and on.

so tonight i revel in the fact that i get to figure it all out, not on my own but with the support of people who love me. revel in the reality that i started three paintings today, i am working on two film projects currently, and looking back through my photos from the last year, i realize that i am capable of taking good photographs i just need to practice and learn more.

there are so many wonderful things already present in my life and so many wonderful things waiting to still be birthed. i don't know what the future holds but i do know that i don't want to waste any more time not doing what i love.

rainstorms

2011-09-04T22:44:00.000-07:00

big fat raindrops covering my windshield, the fresh scent of dirt and new rain, lightning streaks across the sky and drum like thunderclaps announcing presence. this was the wonder of tonight's showy spectacle in los angeles. it was the follow up to a pink and golden tinted sunset.

i drove into town with a friend. we sat on a corner of sunset blvd drank coffee, chocolate and talked of relationships and men. i watched the traffic go by peering with vested interest at each motorcycle. the sugar i had imbibed today began it's wormy destructive path, trying to take me out with shrapnel constructed of loss, loneliness and self doubt. the sweet seductions of earlier that day came back to bite me in the ass. so i drove home letting the fat and crystalline rain wash away all the destructiveness and pain. wash away the disappointment and missing that had feed the sugar fix.

the rainstorm was a means of memory, a reminder that i have choice and that my perception is not always what it appears to be. every so often i need to cut ties, to be cleaned of the destruction, to be told that i have tasted just a bit of the beauty which will be offered.

the curtains flutter and waft in the sent of the fall rains, i hold what i have and release what i cannot, placing my hands to my heart i offer up the desires and projects and relationships hidden there and ask for the impossible knowing that the asking is what matters and not the outcome.

measuring sticks

2011-09-04T17:32:00.000-07:00

i think one of the hardest things as a person and especially as an artist is to not look at other people's lives and want what you see. reading through things like facebook or even just blogs it's hard not to let the need to compare you life come shattering in. what i mean by shattering is that it is really easy to let the perception of another's life (because really it is all just perception) get in the way of you living YOUR life.

yesterday i had a conversation with my aunt about many things but she asked me what is one of the major "sins" or things that get in the way of me being happy and myself...i said that i under value what is happening in my life because i am comparing myself to others around me. she then wisely asked if i would really want all that comes with the life of another; their problems, insecurities, emotional and spiritual block, and whatever. i thought about my brother who i often compare myself to and realized no i'm good. while it can suck sometimes i really like my life and what it is about....all the various pieces. the only time i don't like it is when i get focused on comparing myself to other people, or my own invisible standard of how it should be/what it should look like...all of which takes time away from actually creating the life that i want to have.

it is so easy to look at others and not see the hardship the struggles. say you have this band that has been playing consistently for ten years and finally they are getting noticed...what's interesting is that often they are pegged as the new it band like they suddenly appeared out of thin air. that is not the reality...for most people who "make it" whatever that means, they have struggled and worked hard and put in sweat and tears and blood to be able to do this thing. vary rarely if ever will things just appear out of thin air...so going back to comparisons, when looking at another person all that is often seen is the end result not the work that it took to reach that end. so instead of looking at others and measuring success by their achievements i need to go out and see what i have already accomplished and continue to work for greater one's for myself.

this girl she is....

2011-08-31T22:37:00.000-07:00

she is like the lychee nut, guarded and suited on the outside and soft and lushish at the core. things mean something to her deeply penetrating the barrier of construction. once through the shell one is caught by the sweet and tart taste of her beholding. this fruit is not of common origin but exotic a prize to be held on to.

she is a flavor so unique and unexpected that she always lingers in you heart and mind. you may ignore her for a while but then in a off moment the wind changes and you taste and smell her scent as clear as the first time you kissed her on the street corner. all the waves of school boy innocence and joy come flooding back with the thought of that girl. you miss her as she in those moments of recollection misses you.

this girl, while she maybe called sister, was and will never been that word of familial connection...she is closer and more distanced. she is the one who has walked away and yet holds the promise of another try another go for another day. never will she play the harem games of some, while in the pack she stands aside waiting for her turn to run wild and wide.

she is a flower wild beauty hardy and unknown...she is a lychee nut waiting rediscovery.

haunted...

2011-08-30T21:51:00.000-07:00

the music is inescapable...this rare sound which sticks like glue to my head and heart. i am unable to pull away...this pile of albums the only tonality that makes sense right now. even when i walk away turning to the randomness of shuffle...the wanton drums call me back to a perpetual sirens' call. i hear God speaking, see the light and darkness battling in the rhythms in the lyrics in the band in their fans...the unique swirling of worlds coming together and crashing away. the gifts i have been given shine brightly in the light of this art, this heartache and beauty. twelve years of angry and tears and calling out to God- Christ, mother, father, spirit. the high of life and the shattering of loss is bound up like paints mingling on my canvas. and so many echos of my life live in these songs created by others. my lovers past and future are held in a name and a cord. i do not want to be one of the crowd i need light and air mixing with the awareness of dark. i need to go back to two hotel rooms and speak my heart and mind. i need to reclaim the years wasted on those unworthy of my earth-mother beauty...i need to learn my guitar to play it like a lover so i will not be at the mercy of others to create. i want to feel or not feel this much...it's so cloudy here i don't know which is more true. i want something to charge my system, miracles, tattoo, lover, surprise...

then i wonder... i just an addict drawn in by the high? a junkie seeking her next fix or a mystic and traveler seeking truth and love and life? what i do not want to be is one who trades in addictions and need...i want to be unfettered by need but bound by love. dreaming of one day when i will be enough to not be forgotten to be seen again and not disregard or passed over in time. i want to be artist and muse and lover and servant to find God in the arms of another and outside those arms. how did i come to this place with these songs and these ideas and these people? how did i end up standing half in and half out, my heart wanting in and wanting to run away as fast as i can to say "piss off i didn't want to play anyhow" but also in the same breath crying "but i am worthy being here...i have so much to give" i feel all those childhood emotions of wanting to be loved and accepted so badly...and yet the anger that comes when i would get rejected. all i wanted....all i want is to be seen, to be good enough to play, to be mysterious and memorable someone for whom one cannot walk away.

ranting....

2011-08-29T19:11:00.000-07:00

a white hot rage floods my brain, the anger of so many things unsaid and thoughts just simmering in the mind. i want to cry and break plates, shatter glasses and throw paint...the psychotic generational chaos sits like a wanton angel in the corners of my mind. the threat of mental instability quickens my heart shooting tremors of fear through potentially tainted veins. once again to young and alone to deal with all of these grown up things, being asked to make decisions beyond my experiences and pay grade. doubt and fear are playing craps in the alley with self destruction, each cackling over what they will do with my lucky won soul. hope and promise step in ruining their fun...yet anger still sits like a bird on my chest. she shoots blues and white phoenix feathers in all directions...she calls me to create to write to do something so that i will not burst in to flames or let the chaos of the mind-fuck so often called my brain take that last wild ride over the edge into utter madness.

names runs through my head like participants in a half marathon, i offer them each what they ask for slowly slicing away at myself. this morning i had a conversation with my father, which with the right shifting of words and addition of expletives was similar to one i had with someone else a month ago. it totally freaked me out of my skin...the connection between these two men being way to close for comfort. school is out, relationships are over, and the wild hidden confusion has come back in waves. doubt, fear, the desire to destroy everything and run away is chomping at my bit...i'm getting better at it but this living in tension is a bitch. i need to find means and ways to cope with things to work my way back to reality. with three deep breaths i release the evil birds for a while....

on this day... (NFTPL #57)

2011-08-22T22:57:00.000-07:00

in less than two hours it will be my 32nd birthday...gosh what a scary number that is. i remember several years ago watching sex in the city and realizing that 30 was my scary age and here i am now two years past it. there have been many beautiful happenings this year that has made it one of the best so far that i would have missed if i had stayed in the fear that comes with having a scary age because that fear would have bound me to people and places that i was not made for. instead i risked and unfettered myself and journeyed here to a place of flourishing and promise. as i look towards this next year i have not expectations just hope that i will end up in the places i need to be doing the things that i am called to and from there the impossible and incredible will flow into my life.

i hope this next year of mine will be filled with visions lived out, travel nationally and internationally, great music & musicians, videos and creative projects, a company, seeing my best friend fall in love again (this time with the right man), watching two other friends continue to fall in love, more babies, more weddings, and maybe just maybe a relationship for me too. there are so many incredible possibilities and i can't wait to see how they will grow and form into lovely wild gifts and unexpected pleasures.

Missing the Northwest... (NFTPL #56)

2011-08-22T08:25:00.000-07:00

musing over the reality that i have lived in los angeles, the promised land, for almost a year i realized this morning while checking out the lovely photography of sarah jurado (incredible artist and wife of musician damien jurado www.sarahjurado.com) that i do very much miss certain aspects of the pacific northwest. out of my almost 32 years of life, 30 were spent either in portland, oregon or seattle, washington...when i was 1 i lived with my parents in quebec, canada for a year while they went through missions training and this last year i have lived in los angeles but beyond that i am truly a child of the northwest.

so what are some of the things that i miss about the northwest you may ask?

well for one i miss ferryboat and the ability hop on a ferry, travel across the sound and journey to port townsend or some other place...riding the ferry in seattle was something that always sends shivers of joy to my heart! there is something completely sensual and exciting about traveling in this manner. it is a mini adventure that even if i have taken already five times in recent history i am still excited for whatever mystery and miracle decided to present it's self...the child-like wonder of taking a ferry is never lost for me.

secondly i miss late and all night coffeeshops that are situated in relatively safe areas...so many late night papers were written either at zoka's or u-village starbucks or both. i have yet to find a great coffee place to study late at night here in los angeles...many great bars but no coffeeshops...in addition i also miss the coffee culture of the northwest, the many independent places that have incredible coffee. with a few exceptions...i am stuck drinking, starbucks which after years of well made and hand crafted coffee pales in comparison.

continuing on in the late night vein...i miss the ability to go to parks after dark...unless it's the beach there just aren't safe open spaces to go to at night here and have deep conversations. so many of the most interesting and memorable nights of my life in seattle were spent at the beach or parks with cigarettes and bad coffee sharing life and conversations.

tattoos, i mean good ones, artistic and beautifully designed tattoos. now i am not saying that all people in los angeles have awful tattoos but when out here there are very that i come across and am blown away by the creativity and artistic quality of the tattoo. where as in the northwest most of the people i know who have tattoos are artists and have really incredible body art.

oh yeah and all the great mid-range concert venues (the tractor tavern, the crocodile cafe, neumos, the showbox, even chop suey) so far i have only encountered two good venues the troubadour and the satellite....i miss my venues...

and lastly what i miss most about the northwest...my friends and family!

connection and sexuality

2011-08-21T21:58:00.000-07:00

i've been reading through resources on sexuality and faith in preparation for writing a research paper on the topic...doing all of this writing has got me thinking about many things in regard to these subjects. something that has been unearthed is the idea of the interplay between rejection and desire. as a woman who has grown up in a culture where my value and worth is often perceived to be equal to the amount of desire that men have for me...i have experienced a lot of rejection. and while part of me would rage against this idea that one should seek said desire i also know that without feeling desirable there is part of me as a woman that is blocked off and hides away my strength and power. my beauty was intended to be seen and drawn out by the bold strength and goodness of men, at the core of relational dynamics there is a key element that draws out the beauty and strength of a woman when she is loved and desired well. when this is not present or leaves there can be, unless she is very rooted and grounded in the truth of who she is, a lessening or hiding of that women's true self.

i found today as i had time to work and reflect on thing that i have been hiding and questioning the truth of my beauty and desirability...that the broken part of my heart feels that in the absence of attention and a man in my life holds the reality that i fear most, that i am not enough. which is complete crap...but tell that to the wormy part of my rebellion heart, just because something didn't work out into the type of relationship or image i had for it does not mean that i am not enough...does not mean that i am not sexy or intelligent or beautiful or desirable enough...what it means is that there is another relationship which is better suited for the unique beauty that is me...there is another man who is better matched, who needs me and i need. in the absence of each of us from the other's life is an absence from the needs of the world and the works of restoration and hope. where this man is i have no idea and i'm pretty sure he is in the same boat. so all i can do is keep moving forward and hope that the man that seems like a mythical figment of my imagination right now continues to hope and move forward as well.

remembrance

2011-08-18T09:46:00.000-07:00

each moment of each day we choose how we will seek for life or death...i know it doesn't seem as simple as that and yet i do think it is just that simple. when we experience loss and heartache and the terror of shalom shatter, which is that realization that things are not the way they were meant or created to be...we have choice. over the next few days a community, a family really of people that that i love dearly and greatly admire are grieving the anniversary of a great and large hearted man's passing. this is a hard week i am sure...being still on the edges i can only feel the bits and pieces of that grief and recall my own days of remembrance on the day of loved one's journey out of body and into the more perfect body and soul.

when these days come scheduled or unscheduled with the flood of loss and memory and ache for those who now only inhabit dreams and photos and stories...there a choice offered. we can choose to celebrate the moments that we have had and were blessed to have with that person...those dreams and memories and stories and songs...or we can live in the regrets of all the things unsaid and not experienced. i am not saying that those shouldn't been wept over or held because they are true spaces of grief and loss and they ache like hell but that is not the place to live. the call in grief is to live into what you have been offered through that parent, friend, child, lover to let their beauty and life and joy and encouragement be that which moves you to the greatness you were created for until it is your time to pass into life in a different form. choosing this is choosing life.

by nature we are seared by those we love, they are imprinted on our hearts and we on theirs it is an inescapable nature of things. sometimes that is even transferred to you after that person has left this life because part of their essence lives in the heart of another whom you love. however it happens we are bound to each other in tight cords of love...so tight that death and distance and loss cannot break them. i am still bound to lovers and friends and family who has passed out of my life or this life...i hope this week for my friends will be one of remembering the greatness of a man dearly loved and dearly loving. may michael's heart still shine brightly for all to see reflected through those he loved and who love him.

"When you remember me, it means you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. I means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart." ~frederick buechner

memory~ the call (michael been & company)

In my memory
I can still see that face
In my memory
I can still hear the voice
I remember talkin' with you
The stories I could tell
In my memory, I remember you still
You gave the poet words to speak
you were the sun to warm my days
You put us in each others hands
You gave me love before I asked
In my memory
I can still see that face
In my memory
I can still hear the voice
I remember talkin' with you
The stories I could tell
In my memory, I remember you still
I feel my heart will surely break
I've taken all that I can take
You were the light for me to see
You were the sky that covered me
In my memory
I can still see that face
In my memory
I can still hear the voice
I remember talkin' with you
For hours by the well
In my memory, I remember you still
In my memory I can still see the eyes
In my memory
I can still feel your touch
I remember talkin' with you
The stories I could tell
In my memory, I remember you still

night stories and the meaning of things

2011-08-17T11:34:00.000-07:00

dreams, as in the ones you have when asleep, are funny things. there are whole areas of study created to try and understand them. in the ancient near eastern traditions they are a means for God to speak but must also be interpreted by another person. it is the ability to interpret dreams that offers joseph out of jail and leads to him becoming the second in command in egypt. many of the prophets are given visions or dreams, peter learns that gentiles are acceptable to God via a dream about food and the greatly misread text revelation was reveal to john in a dream. through out history dreams have been means of information and guidance for people and cultures.

through out my life dreams and visions have filtered in and out often in a very emotionally vivid way. i had had dreams that emotionally effected me for days. last night i had two very different dreams that i am still being haunted by and don't really understand the meaning yet. the first was being with a girl scout troop trying to make chocolate chip cookies...some how i was roped in this confectionery effort. the deal was that we had too many chocolate chips and not enough of everything else for dough...everyone kept suggesting we just eat the chocolate until there was enough only for the cookies. as someone who is not eating sugar or chocolate at this time the whole idea was such a great challenge to avoid the sugar and chocolate...which come to think of it might be at least part of the the dreams meaning. also it could represent the things that i want and can't have right now.

the second dream took place in a campus apartment of some kind. two of my former roommates, who are happily married with three kids, were there and it seemed we were all living together. which is fine and dandy...except for the fact that mike my old roommate had some how gotten a pet snake. it was a little characterish thing but snakes freak me out. he kept promising that it would be fine and was nothing to be frightened of...maybe i should share a bit of the shrimp i had with the snake like you would give a dog to let them warm up to you. so i braved the fears and did. with each bite the snake got bigger and closer and then it began to jump. it jumped up to the loft area of the apartment we were in and that is when i woke up in a mild terror. i do not like snakes. i have not idea what this one means?

but that is the interesting thing about dreams sometimes their meaning is clear and other times it is completely from left field and makes not sense. whether or not meaning full dreams are always and interesting expression of the subconscious come to image and life for a time in one's head.

mom

2011-08-17T09:03:00.000-07:00

wandering through photos tonight i came across an ancient one of my mother in college or high school. a knife stuck in my heart and filled with ache. i miss my momma. while still here in glimmers and glimpses mostly the ghost of her remains. i have now lived a over a third of my life without my mother's full and beautiful presence in my life. at nineteen because of a freak snowstorm, the wise and funny and scare and insecure women of my childhood and teenage years flew the coup and left in her stead a child-like and handicapped person. all the ways i had to relate to her besides just physical presence were gone...words and ideas and stories no longer were our shared language. we could sit and draw together and for that i am thankful but the other was gone without a trace.

as i move closer to my 32nd birthday, content and happy, yet still with the sometimes desire for children and the hope of eventually finding a life partner i think about my mother. i think about all of the things i have yet to experience that she is unable to share. i think about all of the things that i have experienced that she has also been unable to share. wonder still what, if i do have children, they will think of their grandmother and what stories i will tell them of her. of the time she was so angry with ian and i that she drew a picture of her with smoke and fire coming out and how that defused it all. how every time one of us got in trouble, after spanking or sending us to our room she would come crying and apologize for anything she has said out of frustration or anger and reminding us beyond any doubt how very very much she loved us. how hard it was for her to over come fear and perfectionism and yet she did over and over again. or the time when i was seven or eight and with my dad as he was at a church event the video or slides he had taken of my mom dancing came up and made me cry because she was so beautiful and at peace when she danced.

there are so many days i wish i could have her back or could have one more conversation like we used to and ask all of those questions that come up in my mind from time to time. but i can't so i will recall the stories i remember will read the things she wrote...someday get the children's story she wrote and illustrated for me published if only for my own children...and most of all love her fully for who she is. because it hurts and aches but i am thankful for it all.

caught (NFTPL #55)

2011-08-16T23:01:00.000-07:00

caught between opposing desires it's hard at times for my heart to find rest. it makes sense i was born on one of those days between star-signs...half virgin half lioness. i want stability and i want to wander like a gypsy on the road and over oceans and seas. the paths i have chosen don't always seem to fit my heart's desires. everything feels conflicting, my reality is constantly changing and morphing into something new. i want to be mutually bound to the heart of another and i want to be free. i want motherhood and singleness...i want this man and i want to run away. i want this shirt, no wait do i really want this shirt. it's always a tension it's always a question...rarely is anything ever clear....well somethings are clear like faith and God, the music of brmc, the black ryder, ryan adams and the need to create.

yet i always want to do so much and be apart of so many beautiful things that it is hard for me to focus. i wonder if it is because i haven't yet come to the thing, you know that things that just jumps out and says "yes" this is exactly you fully who you were created and made for or maybe i was made to wander and travel and experience life on a wild ride of trust and risk. so much of this past year and a half has been risking, stepping out, being bold and trusting that where i walk a path or net will be provided...and it has. i have been so blessed with dreams realized, opportunities given and unexpected surprises offered. that being caught between what seems to be opposite desires isn't looking like such a bad thing after all.

searching for fire..

2011-08-16T22:53:00.000-07:00

i stumble in the dark looking for what will burn me hard and bright. standing here in the shadows i have waited for that which will spark with my heart igniting it so that i cannot walk away. this life of mine has sat on the sidelines hoping and begging and musing for someone who was inspiring the greatness and the wildness that lurks in my heart's shadows.

to find fire is possible and to find encouragement is possible but to encounter that perfect chemistry of fire that burns long and bright is a hard task in deed. fire that at first is good can burn too bright and threaten to consume or fire that starts well can easily go out...the kind of fire that has lasting light must burn hot enough and steady with flashes of the light.

shall i light a pyrite and burn my soul to garner the attention of the fire starter? the one who can light my fire as it were. or shall i douse myself in water over and over again like elijah calling on God to show just how powerful God is in the face of lies and false prophets? they strain their voices and bleed themselves as the goddess stood silent...and God burned water drenched alter in it's entirety to ash.

marked i am a live coal waiting for paper and wood to turn my smoldering embers into a roaring blaze. already i shoot through the sky like a star in falling flight to be wished on may and might...yet when he which bares the same marking steps into the woods all around will be consumed in the light of our mutual flames.

needs and loss

2011-08-15T23:45:00.000-07:00

being at a bar on a friday or saturday night is like watching an an auction from the sidelines....especially if you are going out in hollywood. in the sea of people 80% are there to get seen, hook up or find a shallow form of connection in the hope that it will become something real. across internet site and bar stools and church pews we all are searching for our mystical other half or at least a warm body for the night. a search for that other person who despite all the work one can finally say "yes" i love you more than i hate the way you talk during sex, the way you eat your apple, the way you write your checks or what-have-you. at the core we are all made for relationship for that deep connection with another person. it's rooted in our stories and myths and religions. a major part of being human it the desire to be in intimate relationship with another person....to share life together with someone.

tonight at the "beauty bar" which is set up like a salon and offers manicure and martini specials...the majority of the crowd were men. which was interesting because i really don't think they were there for a manicure! but what i found really interesting was watching all of the people coming in...there were very few couples...most of the people there at this bar were there to meet someone. yet no one in the whole three hours i was there nursing my dirty vodka martini and chatting with my friend wendy over the dj's eights mix did that i could tell "meet someone". it was like being back in seattle where everyone is single but very few people approach another person for a date. i watched as men looked around and tried to interact with the various groups of single women but didn't. this i think is honestly the first night i have been out to a bar in los angeles where i haven't seen anyone hooking up or connecting. it was very odd.

the whole energy too was that of unmet expectations and desires...most of the patrons were dressed up to impress, many of the girls wearing four in heels that i kept fearing they would fall and break something in and tight and super revealing outfits that would be more suited for las vegas than los angeles. yet even with all this plumage there was a serious lack of connection happening.

after leaving and passing several other bars, with lines of people waiting to get in, i thought a lot about what the atmosphere of these kinds of nights are what it is that people are looking for...i also thought about some of the cultural theory work i am reading for my research paper. one of the theorists was talking about part of the freedom of sexuality post 1960's was about the freedom of risk that women take by owning their sexuality. that we are to be aware of the possibility of harm that could come when moving outside the bounds of protection and care of the previous structures that guarded female sexuality. what a risk it is to open one's self up to another person....especially one who you are going on a blind date with or meet somewhere like a bar. you have no context for knowing this person or who they are and yet we willingly trust this dynamic.

it's all very interesting to me. this idea that we have culturally it's most easily expressed in dating rituals but comes in many forms, what i am talking about it the choice of instants in the hope of substance. we do it with food too...take popcorn i know silly but hear me out. i am a purest when it comes to popcorn unlike my roommate i will always choose stove cooked popcorn to microwave given the choice. while microwave takes only two minutes or less to cook and stove popped takes a whopping four to six minutes more the pay off i believe is way better. i think so often these days with the instant accessibility of things we forget that the "for the time being" things often inhibit our ability and desire for the real. like getting a quick snack at a fast food joint can take the place in a really depressing way of my desire for substabtial food. often when driving home from a late class i will grab a quick snack only to get home to a lovely meal and be too full to have it. i feel like bar dating is often like the quick snack at least in most circumstances....i do know one couple who were successful in their bar-met pairing but they also knew each other as friends for over a year before they got together so it wasn't really the same thing.

lastly let me say i am not passing judgement on this action just asking or thinking critically about it...lord knows that more often than not my dating stories are the comic relief that i offer up to others about how much worse their experiences could have been. just recently i went on four dates with a man who is most likely still involved with his ex or maybe still wife before the red flags hit me in the face...yeah that's another story for another time.

over all i just find the whole dynamic of need and loss and desire and half filled need interesting and odd especially in light of some of the things i am reading currently working on a paper about God, sexuality and gender.

this is what i want for you

2011-08-14T12:04:00.000-07:00

you wrestle with God and the devil day in and day out...healing is your deepest fear and your secret heart's desire. i watch as you try to do the job for the latter working your damnedest to destroy what is good in your so that the lie you live will be true. walking close to light your fear strikes out trying to harm what you most fear. i want you to find life, to have your battled and shattered heart restored to the beauty and power it was made for. my friend you have been created for more than this, the slow destruction of your self. you were created for such glory and truth telling, yet you allow the dark angels to eat away at your heart and soul. the demonic snacks on you like candy...it's that terrible ache when you are crying alone begging for this to be over. their tongues roll over you sucking the life and the light, they mean to leave you a hollow shelled bag of your worst fears; alone, unloved, unremarkable, and voiceless. this is not you dear, this is not who you are. you are wise and wild and tender-hearted you love to offer care to others, spilling art all over the place so that as many as possible can hear and see and know. tell the vampiric dark angels for once and all be gone...allow beauty and truth and light to enter in a heal the hurts and scars...you will always remember that's not the question it is the question of will you live and choose life.

i hope the music and the love and the light will finally touch you deep enough to move that stubborn wolf-heart to the man he was created to be with out fear or loss but rather stepping into the marking that has existed since the time you were created forth. choose good my friend please choose good.

about being naked....

2011-08-13T03:12:00.000-07:00

for many women part of their body acceptance is the realization that they are beautiful when they are naked. so many of us have grown up with deep shame and hatred for our bodies...told from a young age that what we look like is not acceptable in the mark. this is a lie but one that is fully ingested, just turn on the television and watch a half hour of any show with women on it...most likely at least once in that period of time something will come up about the female character's body insecurities.

this fear of our naked bodies is linked to many things which if it were not three in the morning i could clearly lay out and express but it is so...yeah there is this fear. what i find interesting and what struck me as i was reading through blogs before bed...what that when the fear of acceptance, beauty, and nakedness is in the process or has been over come, especially by women who are out of the perceived norm, there is a tendency to get naked often and almost in a an extreme. it's very much a fuck you i'm beautiful attitude that comes into play. this is what intrigues me about this whole reversal...the idea of going from one extreme to another. it's hard to just hold the knowledge that "i am acceptable and loving" but it's like one needs to prove that in a visceral and tangible way. maybe it's a kin to the wallflower who suddenly finds her self with the quarter back or what-have-you and feels the need to flaunt her boyfriend because he embodies the whole of what was seen as impossible to her. those places where we have been wounded the most also can lead to over emphasis...

anyway three am brief thoughts about nakedness

blessing the prodigal

2011-08-10T22:46:00.000-07:00

it's a beautiful and hard things to care for others...to allow your heart to be like God's and open to relationship even when it means being hurt. this week my lovely cousin annette mentioned the story of the prodigal son (luke 15:11-32) as we talked about loving people, raising children, choices and condemnation. she reminded me that when the son leaves he is blessed and when he returns he is blessed by the father. the same father who he essentially said f-off and die to by asking for his inheritance. if the father represents God in the story and the call is to be like God then what i now see in this parable is the idea of blessing when ever one choose to enter back into relationship and rejoicing that the wandering one has found home.

yet too often my response can look more like the older brother who has stayed...bitter and jaded because of "doing what's right" and feeling that the "rightness" deserves a special blessing. which doesn't come, in spite of the fact that he all which is there is under the older siblings command, and being mad that the one who "screwed up" is getting all that you have desired.

part of loving others is letting them like the prodigal son walk their own path...allowing them to go to the places where they will encounter their need for God (home) and choose to come back in whatever humble means they can because home is far better than where they are at. this is one of the hardest things to do in life...wait for those you love to hit rock bottom so to speak. this looks different for me than it does for my brother or my best friend. for some it means just touching their toe into the waters for others it means swimming while profusely bleeding in heavily shark infested waters, yet what i know beyond a shadow of a doubt is that everyone has the chance to get out of rock bottom but the catch is they must admit that they are there. it's like rehab or therapy , it only works when you are willing and commit to being honest with your self and others who are walking with you. also having lived and been around a several people suffering from addictions what doesn't work is condemning and shaming someone who is an addict they are all ready have bucket loads of this in themselves they don't need it from others. love with boundaries are good for you and as a byproduct that person....support is good too.

as i think about the story of the prodigal son...it gives me great hope...this God that i believe and trust my life to is one who desperately desires to embrace and bless all the prodigal children...all of creation which is God's good, very good creation...the restoration of the whole of creation as prodigal children of the first and truest Creator is the hope of life!

tantrum

2011-08-08T23:17:00.000-07:00

everything feels prickly and i am tired and want to rage like a three year old. i want to throw a damned tantrum and yell things like "this is stupid" and "i hate this" and "MOMMY", stamp my feet, hit things and throw stuffed animals and fall on a wet heap on my bed tired and spent. mostly i just want to crawl in a corner and run away from the world. i'm not scared so much as jaded and disturbed....what the f says my logical sense how could this happen and why did you let it? anger is bubbling just below the surface.
does my anger come from hurt, feeling like a fool, or from knowing someone else is right...and if the latter why? is it a control issue? i don't like to not know things i don't like to be treated like i don't know things. does the not knowing make me feel like a child and foolish?

my brain runs in mobius strip like circles around and around searching for answers and just wanting out. the anger sits on my chest like a cat...moving up and down with my breath. i don't want to be responsible i don't want to have to fix things i just want it now says my heart....because i am scared, terrified really that this emptiness and disassociation is as close as i will get to the heart of want i want. maybe i am just broken and not meant for this treasured desire that i have guarded and wanted for so many many years. i want tears to come but only the craving for destruction. i feel like the idiot on display here for everyone's amusement... well at least she has interesting stories, they are heartbreaking when you really listen but funny if you miss that. oh well right i laugh it off as i sit in my fears.

i need change i need GOD i need hope long lost....

something tells me this isn't right sir

2011-08-08T00:26:00.000-07:00

today was about ownership and responsibility. God kept telling me something and i wasn't listening...until i saw a half hidden pink bath robe and it all became so very clear. well maybe not clear but things that seemed off and kept adding up funny fell into a kind of place. i don't know yet if i am right in my conclusion but part of me doesn't really care that much. with a cigarette and cool night air my brain says "no" and my heart's decided to go off line for a while, no that's not right rather it's hiding back in the castle waiting for the prince instead of standing with the gates wide open.

i think i have a bad picker, i can't seem to get relationships right. as part of growth and entering into my full humanity i need to own that. when sweetness and kindness and other lovely things came in i didn't receive them. then oddity and abuse enters and i'm like great let's go, until someone pulls me off the ride and show me my ravaged features from a week of play. so i don't like that ride i think. and then another one appears and it seems like the goodness and kindness and the whatnot that i am looking for yet it has skeletons hidden and unlike the first ride they are harder to spot. but again i spot them and get off. this time i find that singleness, becoming a nun may not be such a bad thing. everyone else around me is able to do this relationship thing and make it work. i can't, so since i can't seem to get the ride right i'm not gonna play...."i'm taking my toys and heading home" for now i am letting go of dreams and desires for love and marriage or even a decent boyfriend. my mistrust level has hit over load, i take ownership of the things i can't control and the things i can and with all of this in mind i say i'm outta here.

maybe tomorrow i will want to play...maybe tomorrow someone who is healthy and doesn't lie will walk in the door but for now i think i have to leave the party and the pool and the bar. i need to sit in a field and figure out why i am where i am at....the goodness of theses experiences and fairground rides is that i am trusting my gut and listening to myself and those around me who love me....i especially treasure those who love me.

embodiedness...

2011-07-20T12:25:00.000-07:00

as i have said i before i have spent most of my life battling and fighting with my body and that this year is one of the first times in my life where i have started to have a healthy relationship with my body. because in spite of the battle i am so intrinsically bound to my body and bodiedness. i encounter the world via body and when i encounter the spiritual world i do so in my physical body. for example while driving to school today there was a truck that had run off the road...something in that sight triggered my mom's accident for me and for a brief moment i lost the ability to breath, or take my intuitive sense of knowing something...i know when something is true because i can physically feel the truth in my guts and through my chakra core.

last night was another movement in that direction...while taking a break from studying for my final and processing some chaotic emotional dynamics last night i decided to take some photos of my body. having grown up around photographers i have a very mixed relationship with cameras. i love well done photography and am very intrigued with images of bodies and form. i love well done nude and body photographs. yet when it comes to myself the idea of photos, let alone a nude or partial nude photos of myself scares the shit out of me. but i am also drawn like a moth to a flame to the idea of having well done and artistic nude photographs taken of me. as a painter i have always had this dream of dating another painter and painting pictures of each other naked or painting each other...

so last night i decided to try and take some photos a) to break the fear b) to see how they would look. so i did...i took photos of myself that, while artistic were nude. it was such a freeing experience because it was just a form of exploration for myself of embracing my body...i wasn't doing for anyone else or to gain attention but to explore my own beauty and self acceptance. also it was a learning experience as a photographer...to see what i could do playing with the light and camera in my room in the late hours of night.

this playful time of self acceptance couldn't have happened without the words and action and care of several people...hopefully you know who you are...thank you.

speaking is hard today

2011-07-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

words and the means to expressing what i mean escape me some days...and today is one of those. i feel like nothing i can say is write or communicates what i am trying to really say or the care in which it is offered. being misunderstood is like being a child again watching the rage mounting in my father knowing that nothing i can say rational or irrational will make any difference because he has hit that point in which he can't hear me and my best bet is to go in my room and hide.

to not be able to truly say what i mean drives me mad...it's hearkens to ex's and friends who never understood me but knew me well...so they thought they knew what i was saying when really they didn't.

often my best friend and i still have those moments where we have to work at clarifying what is *actually* meant by what the other is saying because baggage and old hurts are blocking the path....

i didn't speak for years i couldn't or wouldn't let my heart and truth escape out of my mouth, in blocking my words i blocked myself my essence. i kept my words bottled up because they might lead to being left and the realization that the people i cared about didn't care about me as much as i cared about them. i am still afraid that both of these will happen...that the care and love i think i have is conditional and based on my behavior. that's how i was raise to some extent...the idea of grace and unconditional love were given lip service but i didn't really see them in action. i spent my childhood in fear of doing something wrong that would disappoint most of my family and lead to the hard earned trickles of love and care. not all of my family is like this but enough people on either side that it has lead to that feeling of crazy for me. and two of the few people who i knew loved me unconditionally are gone.

so now when i do speak i have a hard time not walking in apologizing or taking it all back because i am afraid that the person i choose to speak to will turn and walk away from me.

baggage...(NFTPL #54)

2011-07-14T18:48:00.001-07:00

perspective determines how one looks at the world...for me one of the major perspectives that have defined how i look at life is my weight...or rather my battles with my body.

since i was six years old i have been aware of these things 1) my body as that of a female, places me in a odd space in society...both being subjectified and objectification 1-b) some how it was my job to keep that at bay, and sexuality was something that had to be hidden, unspoken, and was embarrassing 2) that my body was not acceptable as is...it was flawed and people would dislike me specifically because of my body. at this point i was a skinny kid.

as i took these explicit and implicit "truths" given i was also being told by my grandmother that i needed to learn how to eat and try different foods. even at such a young age i was already suffering the curse of the sensitive and the large at heart...depression. as the baggage of family, friends, death and life began to pile on to my heart they also began to pile onto my body. food became an outlet for all of those unexpressed things and means to control something in the midst of chaos. then came high school and a year and a half of an eating disorder...the back and forth of starving and binging...my subtle cry for help. it was like smoking in some sense a test to see if i would be noticed, a way to do what was forbidden, and something i knew was bad for me and there for i would do.

on and off the cycles went back and forth. i carried the weight of my shattered family, the need to fill my mother's space, and my own emotional chaos. like a "cutter" i violated my body time and time again. taking on the pain of others or the pain caused by others as mine to own and mine to fix. i discovered there was a sickening pleasure in doing things that hurt me...like breathing in on a cigarette feeling the smoke filling my lungs and the tightness and hacking cough that comes after or digging my nails into my palms willing myself to wait until i drew blood or having shot after shot of liquor. when i was at the brink of pain and suicidal i would sit there pushing myself with contempt and hatred to keep going take more drink more....exctera.

this year has marked the first time in my life where i have been able to accept and come to terms with my body. most of my life has been fighting or using it to hide and keep people at a distance. it's like a maddening rush of freedom and it makes me want to run wild with the headiness of it all.

what blows my mind most often about this change is the little things that change, like being comfortable being naked, or how i walk and feel in my body. these are not earth shattering events except that they are for me. as my perception of myself changes so does my outlook towards others and the world. i have more grace for others and i realize that i am valued and should be treated as such in a way i didn't see before.

the thing about love songs and movies....(nftpl #53)

2011-07-14T12:59:00.000-07:00

so i realized this thing as i was listening to the i-pod in traffic this morning...the relationship/love songs i tend to like, much like movies and books, tend more often than not to be written by men from a male perspective. when i think about what would be in my top ten list for any of these categories middle class men dominate the list.

since i would call my self a third wave feminist and very much advocate for equality and voice i find this very interesting. is is the insidious cultural indoctrination that the male perspective is the norm through which everyone should see? is it a form of self loathing or hatred? or is it that i an artist and lover am just more connected because of _ to this kind of vision of relationships and love? i don't know...i mean i am very female in much of my functioning and perspectives on life. yet high fidelity, reality bites, chasing amy, and singles are all favorite movies of mine...you know the ones you put on when you just don't want to think anymore. what's interesting is that all four of these movies are about men and relationships...even reality bites is more male than female. they are all tales of wanting and pining for one that you seemingly can't have and yet do in the end. that ache of desire and waiting and finally getting that which you have battled for.

in music it's a combination of this and the frustrations of wanting someone who might be terribly wrong for you but you still want them none the less...mountain by tonic, old hat by harvey danger, aya/shade of blue/red eyes and tears/whenever your ready/ect by BRMC, laid by james, and the list goes on. it's always been this way when i was a singer it never failed i would alway want to sing the "male" songs because they seemed more interesting than the female.

so what is it? why does a male perspective on love and relationships carry more weight and power with my heart than a female? is it because that is what i miss from my perspective...i don't understand it so it's what i am drawn to more because my brain needs something to work out? as friends have told me i choose complicated, because i like things to do and puzzles to solve. i don't do simple in spite of cries to that effect. whatever the reason it doesn't seem like it is changing soon.

zombies

2011-07-14T12:32:00.000-07:00

let me start by saying that zombies freak me out. ask my little brother and sister in law after watching "zombieland" last year i was totally scared to walk the five steps out of their door to my car. that being said i spent a good six months last year researching zombies, the myth of zombies, and zombie films for a paper i never ended up writing about what the current surge in zombie films, lit, and culture is all about. i believe much like the rise of apocalyptical stories and then vampires, that the cultural saturation of zombies says something major about the underlying cultural ethos of Western society (yeah i know super wordy but what can i say i am a graduate student paying good monies to write like this).

that being said...two nights ago i had this horrific dream that took place during a zombie invasion. now i know from my research and the books i have bought and read on the subject that the reality of this kind of a thing happening is impossible but tell that to my brain! so anyway there i was in the midst of zombie pandamoium trying to get where ever it was that was safe...usually a coast, almost always the west coast, although i don't know why? anyway it's all stressful and what not searching for weapons and vehicles and food all the while avoiding the threat of evil from formerly human beings. yet in the end what became the most awful part of the dream was not the shooting at and killing zombie (the pacifist in me was cringing) but rather the fact that i ended up alone in a car on this journey...granted i had food, water, weapons, gas everything i needed..except another person to help save off the threat of death. it was the "what if" fears of being alone that really got to me and finally woke me up in the wee hours of the morning.

what in part i got as i was processing this dream, was the revelation that i have all i need to live my life (ie all the supplies) but i am terrified that i will have to continue walking alone through the dark spaces. when i say alone i mean without a human companion..since that is what we are each created for human connection and companionship. my heart longs to share life with others.

so again i find that i am learning something from zombies!

getting your ducks in a row

2011-07-13T20:06:00.001-07:00

now is the time for getting things together...i had three job interviews today, two tomorrow, two monday and a few more in the latter part of next week. for a long time i thought that i would NEVER nanny again...i had been doing it for almost ten years and was burnt out. but after taking a break for a few months i realized that i really do love being able to share time with children in that kind of setting and how lovely it is to get the chance to have that unique interaction in a child's life.

this was further confirmed for me when i got to visit with some of the children i nannied for in seattle. it has been a lovely gift to still participate in their lives even after i was no longer their nanny. i love these children very much.

so as i am looking to get things in order, the first being a job, i am going back to nannying...until i can get a job in my field or until shiloh and i start making some money with the film work we are doing. the process of getting a job is an action of accepting the fact that i am becoming more of an adult and that is the ability to take care of my self and possibly others. plus getting a job means paying off debt, paying rent, and actually saving money instead of living check to check. getting a job also means creating space to create because i am able to support myself which removes stress so that the free time i have can actually go to creative adventures instead of stress.

the next two things on the list after procuring a job: getting film stuff up and running and getting a place to live that is closer to school and los angeles.

as i look to this process i am so very thankful for my california family and their love and support...but i also am excited to have a place again with all of my books and art and whatnot! plus it will be fun to share a place with shiloh. it has been a year and a half since i have lived in an apartment/house that wasn't family but my own. there are good things to both...and once again i LOVE my family here and our living situation!

i guess what the underlying aspect for me, is the reality that i might actually feel like a responsible adult...which means that the idea of having a long term relationship and a child doesn't seem like such an impossibility. the closer i get to feeling both the wonder of doing the things i love and getting my ducks in a row the closer i feel to getting the things i never thought i would have in my life. and that is exciting indeed...granted i still have 2-5 yrs left of school, before i will be ready for anything like marriage or children.