Scribbles and dots...

Art is freedom.

I used to feel that art was constraining.

If I was to draw a picture it had to look like the real thing. If I was to take a photo, it had to be perfectly framed and make sense. This must have stemmed from my elementary art classes where paste had to be conserved and paints should not be mixed.

Someone once told me that if you're going to create art, you cant be afraid to make mistakes.

I love this idea.

Sure, perhaps that picture is fuzzy, but it captures the feel of the moment. That story doesnt come to a conclusion...yes but it may just be a small snapshot of life, and sometimes in life conclusions are not made. It is the ultimate frustration, but oftentimes conclusions are miles and miles away: soaking in some rays on some tropical beach, sipping martinis while we are freezing in the rain, huddled up in some alley.

2009 has been a year where I have felt a bubbling of creativity, spouting up from places I knew it might be residing and from some places I had no idea it was there. There have been some key participants in my life that have seemingly unlocked this discipline in me. And it has been exhilarating.

But the most freeing thing is that I have come to love art and expression as a place with no rules: it can make perfect sense and come together or it can be completely nonsensical and just be.

I am so grateful for an outlet to just create something planned and poignant or perhaps to just throw some abstract concept that may have been floating around in my head down on paper. That is the beauty, it is ultimate freedom to just do. Do something that makes you satisfied.

Create for the sake of creativity.

I just really appreciate that. I love that you don't have to be good or smart or calculated to create something. Just go for it. Don't be afraid to make no sense. Everything can have its place and should be appreciated for what it is. I actually think we go wrong when we actually try hard to make it too good.

When trying too hard comes off in art I think it leaves a bad taste in the observer's mouth. The artist shouldn't have anything to prove to people. Therefore, don't try to. Just go, go, go.

Its as if we need to take off the parking brake and just let our minds roll down the hill, gaining speed and not stopping for anything.

I want to encourage creativity because it has been a huge outlet and a place to enter into worship for me. I am thankful for a creative God who literally speaks and creates. And I am thankful that he allows us to jump in there and make our own creations.

However grand or slight they may be.

A day's prologue...

I love hanging out in the morning.

And I don’t mean getting up and getting dressed and meeting a girl-thats-a-friend-but-maybe-im-interested-in for coffee. I mean groggy, smelly, bed-hair, pajamas hanging out. When the day is just beginning and you and friends just sit around, nod at one another, and wait to peel the layers of sleep off your brain.

There is a feeling of nakedness or vulnerability when one awakes. No one is dressed up, everyone is at their most disheveled. And yet, no one cares. There is just something about the morning that brings calm agreement among friends.

It only happens on rare occasions: a sleepover, a group trip, if all the roommates happen to be home in the morning.

The latter happened today.

This week I’m working an odd 12:30-9pm shift at work, which is somewhat unfortunate, but it affords me that precious morning laziness that I have missed since college. I stumbled down the stairs and made my way haphazardly to the kitchen, pushing the wandering coffee table out of the way and throwing some newspapers on the couch.

As the sunlight snuck in through the window, Robert was his chirpy self already dressed for the day in smooth plaid and pants. He was making coffee and doing dishes. I was thankful for his diligence and productivity at 9am.

I like to ease into my day (except when I go to work) as if I am wading into a cool lake, when you suck in your stomach to brace against the water.

Then Bradley came in, much like a bear emerging from a winter’s hibernation. I was thankful for this too, because it made me feel more comfortable for being a slow mover.

We drank coffee and I made cheese eggs and for twenty minutes we just sat and breathed in the day.

And I realized how thankful I am for so many different people in my life: people that drive me. people that comfort. people that are different. people that are the same. people that challenge. people that calm. people that laugh. people that hug. people that dance. people that color. people that cry. people that make me cry. people that make my stomach jump. people that make my head hurt. people that confound. people that make perfect sense.

I am grateful for all the puzzle pieces that come together to make up my life.

You are loved.

Stopping to smell...

I had the day off today. Random weekdays off are truly a blessing. Weekends are nice, but they are planned…and there’s shows to go to, bars to hop, friends to see. Saturday and Sunday become as jammed or more jammed than even our stress-filled workdays.

But today was just a lazy, no-name, indifferent, Wednesday. I awoke at 10 with no plans and nothing pressing on my docket. It was as relaxed as I have been in a while. I inhaled the first breath of morning and eventually slid off the mattress in no real hurry. After sitting around for a while, the initial order of business was a roommate bike ride to the post office. It was a simple and organic venture: old transportation taking us to an increasingly archaic medium for exchanging ideas.

There is something about walking or biking through a cityscape. It is more real, everything is more defined. You are on the ground floor. You see things at eye level. You are immediately more involved with everything around you.

Whisking around corners, we nodded or smiled at everyone in our vicinity…had we been driving, not so much as eye contact would have been made. Also, on a whim, we stopped at the coffee shoppe and saw a friend who just happened to be working. In a car, I would have driven by, not wanting to find a parking spot, turn off the car and all that.

We then helped a man push his car out of an intersection so he could get a jump. I felt the compulsion to help because I was in the city. I was on the same playing field as this guy, who was clearly in a bind. Had I been in a car, I may have felt bad, but hey whatta my gonna do? Green light: time to move on. With the soles of my shoe wet with the leftovernight’s rain and the sticky sweat on my back, I was in this situation with him. There was nothing else to do but offer a simple push.

Then, at 11:40, Robert suggested we go to mid-day prayer at church. This is something I had wanted to do for a while, but of course, I’m never off on Wednesdays. So we hopped on our bikes and headed home to trade in two wheels for four, since highway travel was imminent.

The sanctuary was virtually deserted, but we were early, and by 12:15 maybe about 12 people were spread out among the first 4 rows. There was no band, no pomp and circumstance, just a dozen bodies there to think about our Creator. It was so intimate and so real. There were no motives for anyone to be there other than meditation and prayer. No cool clothes to impress that girl in row seven, no plans to see who is eating where after the service…just people there because it is refreshing to take a respite and be still amidst our hectic lives.

The service was so quiet and beautiful. Only a few scriptures were read and a brief homily was given. My favorite parts were silent confession and then a sharing of the peace. And for once, I was not nervous or afraid to turn around and shake hands and say “peace be with you, brother/sister.”

Now, I am typically an outgoing person, and I like meeting people. But for some reason the sharing of the peace always makes me nervous. I don’t know why, maybe I feel I have to strike up a conversation or I’m nervous about getting the “dead fish” handshake. But today was something different entirely. We had all just confessed our unholiness through prayer silently and then in unison. And, in the light of the forgiveness already bestowed on us, we shared the good news of peace with one another. It was a lovely, holy time between just a small number of people. But we all knew why we were there. I sensed a feeling of unity in that moment that is lost in big groups. It was pure and it was safe.

It gave me the feeling that we were in an ancient monastery and were all family and had been family for ages. That we all knew and loved one another fully. Each embrace and handshake was warm and fulfilling. I could almost smell the spirit of God in that place.

I would love to take that 30 minutes every Wednesday, or every day for that matter, and share that time with other Lovers. It was an oasis. Alas, life is sure to get in the way…probably in the form of my boss never giving me another Wednesday off.

But I had a taste of simplicity and a feeling of home that I haven’t felt in a long time.

It makes me long for my original home.

come quickly.