The Heart of the Art

I have a painting in my house, a real work of art. I watched it come to life--live, in an hour at a jazz show one Wednesday night. The whole experience surrounded me and swallowed me into it. Jazz notes leaping and running, and soaring and diving, like children on a playground. My ears filled with the joy. But also the motion, the movement, the energy of the performers. This was visual and visceral. Seeing the guy on the side hugging his saxophone as they danced together. The front man made jubilant declarations with his golden horn. The bass player in the back held them together and moved them along--like an engine to this glory train. And the drummer--I saw him as in a kitchen, shaking in the salt, mixing in spices--stirring and baking and beating until all was to his liking. Fully equipped with all the right tools and technique. My eyes are feasting.

And then the painter beside. Colors, brushes turning, she herself a passionate dance, lifted by the music, at one with her art. To be invited into her creative consummation, a gift all its own. I take it in, my heart bursting. The painting is now home with me. I feel it all again in my heart. It hangs as a portal to that night.

True confession: I am afraid to look directly at it.

I'm afraid that the facts and details of it will jar me from the heart of it. More than anything I want to remember the dance and the magic and the mystery of that night.

It was the energy and intimacy of the creative process that was the real gift, and I hold it in myself like a treasure. The painting itself is truly beautiful. But I won't risk losing in this dimension what it represents in another. That's why I only look at it with my heart.

I still see the colors and the brush strokes. I guess you would say my viewing of the art is never an observation (never analytical, never only with my eyes), but always an interaction--which transports me to an experience. And flows like new blood in me again. The heart of the art. Powerful and free, life-giving.

Art in motion can never be contained on a canvas. I honor its breathing and invitation to an other place.

I Believe in You

"I believe in you"

When I say that to someone it (first) puts my heart at rest. Which is where it should be. It's actually having a long term vision for them, seeing their success (maybe before they do). It usually comes when the way is rocky, when the going is rough, at the point of decision--give up or keep going.

I've learned something funny: it really doesn't matter what I think or feel--only to know 'has God called them?' 'Is it in their heart to do it?'

Then do it.
There will be grace and strength for it.

So what is my place in the moment?
To offer a steadfast heart and a steady gaze. I believe in you.

"I believe in you" is a gift that puts the other person's heart at rest. It gives confidence, affirms their unique journey, believing in the grace and strength that's there to walk it well.

Steady your stance again, fix your eyes, move ahead and believe (maybe for the first time) that you are capable. And you are not alone.

As with so many things, I can only give gifts of the heart that I already posses...

Do I believe in the grace and strength God has for me?
Can I be steady-hearted and sure-footed?
Knowing I'm not alone?
Believing for a brilliant outcome?

Believing He's that good?

The Magic of Friends

"The world is a better place because you're here, and we are better because you're here. We couldn't be who we are without you. We couldn't see all that we can be without you." -- song for HT

Each person in my life, whom I trust, taps into a unique aspect of who I am, bringing out different melodies and fragrances and laughter and poignancy separate from the others. Aspects of love, or loyalty, compassion or wisdom. With some I listen well, others I ramble, with some I play music, with others I talk about health and fitness. Of course most overlap, but there are 'certain things' that some specialize in. Like sassing me, for example... or challenging me to dream. The friends who surprise me the most are the ones who bring out the silly in me. Perhaps because this feels the farthest from "guarded" that I get. To be with a friend like that is an absolute gift for my soul, like the idea of a jubilee year--replenishing, renewing, liberating me from limits, if that makes sense.

One thing I am especially grateful for is friends who give me the gift of being able to delight in myself. They see things I do not see--and celebrate what they see. Teaching me to see it too, and enjoy who I am and delight in the becoming. Oh how narrow my view and small my world would be without friends.

“In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets. Now that Charles is dead, I shall never again see Ronald’s [Tolkien’s] reaction to a specifically Charles joke. Far from having more of Ronald, having him “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald… In this, Friendship exhibits a glorious “nearness by resemblance” to heaven itself where the very multitude of the blessed (which no man can number) increases the fruition which each of us has of God. For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest. That, says an old author, is why the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah 6:3). The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall have.”

--C.S. Lewis

This sentence jumps at me: "Now that Charles is [gone], I shall never again see Ronald’s [Tolkien’s] reaction to a specifically Charles joke. Far from having more of Ronald, having him “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald…" 

The reality of friends lost through move or decision hits me hard and challenges my heart. Not sure what to do with all that.

Feel it.
Let your heart speak.
Create space for something new.

A Free Love

Why do I hang onto you. A relationship that just can't seem to come into focus. I've tried many times and a continual leaning in your direction. My heart always straining, never finding its rest. Only when we are together, secure, eyes in the same room to see and be seen, is my heart free to sing our song. Can I trust you when we are apart. Can I trust that you love without (me) constantly tending to it and calling it out. Where is the rest, where is the peace, where is the blessed assurance that you are mine even when you are not in my face or giving me gifts. I need a life of stability, far more calm than this.

Must I let go of you to find it? Or look within? I do not know. God illuminate my path again, even as you have so many times before. You pull me out of a sin that wants for security in something I can see, feel, touch, cajole, control, or at least hope with my yearning heart that a human will pay attention to me at all the right times.

Help. This is no way to live and not the freedom you died to give. Help. Lift me high to see from your lofty places above the noise and almost to the clouds but not quite.

We soar. We fly. Freer now. Lifting my heart from the lateral exchange of human need to the holy gift of unsung love that exists because flight with You is ultimate bliss. We swoop down and around and, yes, are touched by love--and we do love, but now freely and not with unhelpful expectation that breeds unmet need and calls for either forgiveness (or resentment) time and time again.

Unshackle me from this earthly exchange and give me wings. I will still love and be loved and look my friend in the eye. But this time I will come in already singing, with something to give.

This is what free will is, designed by Love himself, right? Masterpiece and mystery; a song for the ages. Love that goes high, and deep, rooted only in freedom, finds peace.

According to St. Paul (Romans 8:28), becoming my True Self seems to be a fully cooperative effort, affirmed in my own limited experience. God never forces himself/herself on us or coerces us toward life or love by any threats whatsoever. God seduces us, yes; coerces us, no (Jeremiah 20:7; Matthew 11:28-30). Whoever this God is, he or she is utterly free and utterly respects our own human freedom. Love cannot happen in any other way. Love flourishes inside freedom and then increases that freedom even more. "For freedom Christ has set us free!" shouts St. Paul in his critique of all legalistic religion (Galatians 5:1). -- Richard Rohr 

January 4

Today my relational breakthrough is letting go--not of him--but of the sting of that day. Today the victory is to walk and not fall. And by fall I mean knees-buckling-under-me fall. The victory is to stand. The victory beyond victory is to stand with soft-hearted hope. Hope of a life (somehow) restored without him in it. How could there be fullness when he is just gone. I must find fullness again within me. (Do I have to redefine love, joy, redemption to achieve?) I must see the light beyond the one I am seeking for--that light brings him back. The resurrection I now must see(k) is seen with the eyes of faith, peace and a belief that the end is never The End. Only a chance to Start Again. And so today I pray Show Me how to see this new. Show Me how to sink into you. Make me light. Against the darkness. I release despair that has held me there. It is wholly unhelpful. I respect grief. But I will not stand for the sting any longer. With victory I rise. Seeing the peace in His eyes. And holding the love and strength of a father in my heart, with me forever. I reach into the supply that will not be depleted. Never fading and without blemish--resurrected and made new by some heavenly miracle.

Today I hope again.
Today I, resurrected, stand.

All things news.

Amen.

Today I Write My Vision

Today I write my vision
of what I must become
Fearless, free, and altogether yours
In a world of madness, fear, loss and confusion
Where is the hope
Where are the hope beacons
Let us rise Let us be
The ones
Who carry your heart

Today I write my vision
Plain so all can see and so
the runners can run
with words written deep, on their blood,
holding tight to the baton
passed from ever-before to evermore

We run and rise / to hope / to carry our light
as beacons in a world of beauty
and flight and seekers of the right
Living out our destinies
(like ones who have never known defeat)
A beautiful surrender to victory --

We press on
now hands clasped
heart entwined

(Is this a party or a race?)

We press on
Dancing all the way.
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