I noticed something over the last few weeks. While I’ve been emotionally on edge, I have also experienced a creative burst. I have written poetry, blog posts, and journaled more pages than I have in ages. Is there a direct correlation? Maybe.
I stepped back a bit and viewed that last year as well as the recent weeks. I noticed that since about this time last year there has been an uptick in the number of words that I’ve produced. Last year I complete a first draft of a novel, over 50,000 word. Journaling has increased. I’m currently half way through my third journal since Jan. 1. Blogging hasn’t grown as much as other media, but the amount of content did increas over previous years.
So, why quibble over these things?
Well, for one, I’m a Creative and we kinda keep track of things like this. I mean, we need something to obsess over, right?
Another reason is so that I can track patterns. I take notice of periods of greater output and try to see if there’s something different that I can use to keep producing. Yeah, there it is, pure analytics. Sheesh! That hurts my brain.
What I noticed is that nothing keeps the creative juices flowing like simply putting in the time. For NaNo last years, I had to get over 1,600 words per day written in order to complete the challenge of 50,000+ words. That requires showing up every day and leaking words onto a computer. It’s hard work. But, it’s good work.
However, passion and emotion play a very small part in that work. It’s nose to the grindstone stuff that keeps the process moving.
So, what about the recent spate of words that I link to raw emotions?
I think that while the work itself requires discipline to actually do something, passion like I’ve recently experienced can act like rocket fuel. It super-charges the creative juices so that they start to boil and roil and toil with added intensity. That’s all well and good. I think that any endeavor can use that kind of boost. The problem, however, is that rocket fuel burns hot and fast.
And, it may burn you.
Badly.
I think that I got a bit singed here recently. Its blisters are painful.
But, I can’t let that be an excuse to back away from the River of Creativity that runs through the Cosmos. I still need to get my toes into the flow and do the work.
Who knows what kind of nuggets I can find in that river? Hopefully, shiny ones.
I’ve had a hard time sleeping recently. I don’t know why. It could be lots of different things that conspire against me to keep me awake. I can fall asleep initially OK. But, I awaken several times during the night. And, I find that those are the times when I find it bloody near impossible to reclaim my repose.
But, sometimes a fruitful thought arises out of the mists of frustration. This past weekend held one of those times.
I woke up a tad past midnight Sunday A.M. Got up and walked around a bit. Then, lay back down. As I lay there, hoping and praying to find my way back into my dreamscape, a kernel of an idea began to germinate in the, now fully awake, fertile soil of my imagination.
Some time ago the priest at the church I attend had asked if I might be willing to share a homily. (That’s ‘sermon’ for the non-liturgical set.) I told him that I would give it some thought. I’m pretty much a newbie there and have yet to become a confirmed member. I took his request seriously. I’ve found over the years that people like him seem to have a sense of things that I many times miss. So, I tend to listen when they speak. As I considered things, an idea began to develop. I chewed on it a while. Then, set it aside because I decided that if I was to share anything I would wait until after my November confirmation. Then, probably, wait until after Advent and Christmas. No hurry to develop those nascent ideas.
Well, it seems that my brain decided a different tack was in order. So, while I lay awake this past Sunday A.M., the idea grew and developed into a full-blown message ready for harvest. Of course, everything that people think in the middle of the night seems like a grand masterpiece of rhetorical genius. This was no exception. I probably lay there for 2 hours rehearsing that thing over and over and over in my mind. Finally, I had to say STOP! There were things that I needed to do Sunday A.M. that were to begin at 5 A.M. Sorry, laying awake until 2 wasn’t helping.
But, the foundation was laid. I spoke with the priest after the service to let him know of my intent. He smiled. I think he knew that I’d eventually figure out that his request was a good and necessary one. Yeah, we’ll see how he feels afterwards! ;o)
Perhaps, I’ll share some of these thoughts here over the next while. Throw them against the wall and see what sticks.
For now? I just wanted to share a bit about the processes that my troubled, over-tired brain takes as it decides to drive. Good stuff sometimes grows in there.
National Novel Writing Month starts in a couple of weeks. I participated last November and completed my first ever 50,000+ word manuscript. Yay! Of course, it’s still in a first draft that’s been sitting on my desk for 10 months. But, that’s not the point. The point is, I created something. I originally used the working title of “God, Who Are You Really?” I had hoped to create a fiction that reflected the personal journey that I had embarked on at the time. Little did I know then that novels tend to take on a life of their own. This one decided to become rather independent at an early stage. At times it felt as though I was simply the stenographer recording the story. By the end of November I had completed the task and was sure that I had the next best seller, albeit in embryonic form, in my hands. But, like all writers that I’ve read who share their own process, I knew that at best I had a rough idea of what might be a poorly written story. So, there it sits. Waiting for me to perform some kind of literary CPR on it so that it can Rise Up From The Ashes like the might Phoenix that it is! Or, something like that.
Anyway, all that to say that this year’s NaNo is fast approaching and I really have no idea where this story will go. Hell, I don’t even know where it’s going to start! Hopefully, by November 1 I’ll at least find that starting line.
During this NaNo I hope to share bits and pieces of the story as it is birthed. Perhaps, I’ll share snippets of the process as well. While many writers say that the writing process can be a lonely one that is fraught with difficulty. A saying that is attributed to Ernest Hemingway states, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” But, I found last year that I was not alone, bleeding at my computer. I had the good company of my characters. I was with them as they found themselves thrown into a quest that they never asked to be a part of. I shared their fears, and ultimately the death of one of them. (Although, when I do rewrite, I’m thinking of being like God to him and resurrecting him. We’ll see if I ever do get there.)
So, while I read that so many folks taking part in this years NaNo are panicking and feeling all sorts of pressure and angst, I think that I’ll have an opportunity to meet some new friends. Maybe we’ll sit and have coffee. And, who knows to what wonderful worlds we may travel together and what amazing experiences we’ll share!
Some of you might wonder why I chose a verse about something that happened on the 5th of November when today is October 17.
There are methods to my madness.
As I’ve shared recently, I am doing the necessary Confirmation stuff in order to become a member of St. Barnabas Episcopal Church. For the sake of today’s post: Episcopal = Anglican. i.e., Church of England. Why does that matter? Well, like any good student, when I began Confirmation I picked up one of the history texts I used in seminary. I wanted to review the roots and formation of the Anglican tradition. As I read through the timeline from Henry VIII through the 17th century, several interesting characters and events panned by in the fast-forward view I saw.
One such event was almost glossed over by the historian-author of my text. He wrote that in 1605 an attempt to blow up the Parliament building while King James I officially opened that year’s session of Parliament. As we saw just a few days ago when Queen Elizabeth II opened the current session, that task has historically fallen to the reigning monarch.
As I read that, I remembered the 2005 movie, “V for Vendetta,” where a future dystopia gave rise to a similar character who ultimately succeeded where the original, Guy Fawkes, had failed. The verse at the top was created in light of Fawkes’ original attempt.
What I found in the historical account, and in subsequent wars and violence in England’s history, was how religion and state were so deeply intertwined.
You see, when Fawkes tried to blow up James and the Parliament, Roman Catholics in England were a severely persecuted sect. They were abused socially, economically, and personally by a government that was predominantly Puritan Protestant. The king, himself, supported the Puritans. (As an aside, I found it interesting that King James I, yes, THAT King James, the one who sanctioned the King James Bible…you know the one that so many fundamentalists tout as the One, True Version because God speaks in archaic English…THAT King James was Gay. Yep. Just sayin’)
King James I
Anyway, Guy Fawkes was Catholic. He and his co-conspirators thought that they could effect some kind of political advantage through an act of terrorism. Or, maybe they just wanted to tell the Puritans, “Hey! Payback’s a Bitch!”
When I finally got through the timeline to Voltaire and the French revolution, I had one of those moments where a light bulb comes on and you say, “Ah ha!”
The people who framed the U. S. Constitution where contemporaries to many of the events that rocked England and France. They had first hand knowledge of how society could very quickly run off the rails when Religion and the State got into bed together. And, they certainly wanted to prevent that happening in the nascent United States. So, with the wisdom of Solomon they knit together a guiding document that would weave non-sectarianism into the very fabric of the country.
Over the years this has been described as a wall of separation between Church and State. It is a High wall. It is a Good wall. It is a Necessary wall.
For those who try to say that the U.S. is a Christian nation because that’s what the Founders intended? Sorry. You’re Wrong. It isn’t and they didn’t.
The Founders knew the dangers of mixing Religion with the State. Guy Fawkes could have been a reminder. Perhaps, in the back of Jefferson’s mind was a little verse…
Over the years I’ve heard a lot, read a lot, and generally had ideas about the so-called Spiritual Disciplines swirling around me like a swarm of mosquitoes. Yeah, I chose that metaphor purposefully. The voices from Church leaders and non-leaders have been little more than a buzz in my ears with the occasional blood-sucking bite on the neck. (Vampire bugs!) Richard Foster and his rather vacuous 1978 book “Celebration of Discipline” was a mainstay for so many. In the circles I was involved with, that book was pretty much used to shame us. It gave leaders another cudgel to condemn us. None of us could follow all that Foster wrote. Yet, when we failed we were reminded of how none of us were either strong enough or committed enough to perform even Foster’s simple exercises.
As I got older and gained more experience I began to understand that people can’t just ‘decide’ to ‘will’ their way into practices that allow the kind of practices that Foster and others prescribed. At best, then, these books and resources provide folks with a variety of practices that people have found useful over the years. They could offer us the ingredients, just not the recipes.
I found that only God’s own gravity of Grace can draw people into that orbit where that thing called Spiritual Formation takes place. No amount of self-will or self-discipline can move our hearts even a millimeter in that direction.
Once God does act, however, almost anything can become a Spiritual Practice that leads to new experiences. Experiences that enlarge hearts and create empathy. Experiences that bring freedom to speak freely to God without fear or timidity.
That brings me to the point of all of these words today.
I want to introduce a new Spiritual Practice. Well, I’m sure it’s not new. But, I don’t recall ever hearing about it.
It’s called “Argument.” Or, if you want, call it “Disagreement.”
With whom am I talking about Arguing with?
Well, God, of course. Who else?
That may sound strange. So many of us have been taught that God is all-knowing and, most importantly, ALWAYS right. For these people the idea of arguing with God is akin to heresy and is a fast-track to finding oneself in Hell. I feel kind of sorry for people who think this. Their god is too small. I mean, think about it. If God is Who we have been taught, you know, Supreme Being and all of that, do you think that this God could possibly be threatened or offended by our puny human arguments? Don’t think too hard about that. The correct answer in “No.”
There are precedents in the Bible. Abraham seemed to argue, well at least tried to ‘bargain,’ with God in that little matter of Sodom. Job tried to argue with God over his perceived wrong treatment. Jeremiah argued that he was unfit for the calling that God had for him. Shoot, Jesus argued with the Father in Gethsemane. “Father, please, don’t make me drink from this cup!” Now, in all of these, God’s side of things was ultimately followed.
That’s not the point I want to make.
I want to make and argument for, well, arguing!
And, that, as a Spiritual practice that can open us up to receive more of God’s Grace and Presence.
I’ve had many disagreements with the way I perceive God’s hand in my life. Like so many, I tried to stuff these feelings by believing that because I am just a human I must be wrong. “Not my will, but Yours, O God” is the mantra we’re taught to repeat.
I’m sorry, but that response is just so inadequate on so many levels. It makes the assumption that humans are little more than toddlers who have no idea what might be good and helpful. I makes God into a benevolent dictator who may or may not tolerate our perceived insolence. Both of those assumptions are categorically wrong. We are Ikons of God who carry within us the very image of God. We are fellow workers who are entrusted with the Stewardship of this world in which we live. Hardly toddlers. God may be benevolent, but God is No dictator. The whole idea of Free Will puts the lie to that.
Ok, so what? What does that have to do with argument and Spiritual Formation?
Everything!!
It reveals that we are taken seriously by God. God Listens! When I argue with God it implies that there are two voices interacting. No argument is one-sided by definition. So, I ‘hear’ God’s voice. That voice may rebut. That happens with regularity. Sometimes, though, the voice says, “About time you thought of that!” God seems to actually enjoy it when we use our brains to work through an argument and come to the correct and logical conclusion!
More importantly, I feel, is that when we feel free enough to argue with God, God is pleased. Our relationship is confirmed. Not as equals or even peers. But, as two parties in lively engagement. Some of the most intimate experiences I’ve had with God have been in the midst of real Knock-down, drag-out bouts of In-Your_Face disagreement.
In the end, I feel that God has honored me by engaging with me on a deep, visceral plane. And, I think God is pleased that I am not simply willing to be dragged along a willing fool.
So, yeah, I think that Argument can be listed among Spiritual Practices that Christ-followers should embrace. We should not fear to offend God. Nor, should we simply acquiesce to things that we think are unjust or simply wrong. God is not that dismissive Father who says, “Shaddup, Kid!” No, God seems to desire that we learn to BE intelligent fellow-workers in the Cosmos.
Walking on a path through the woods, Eyes focused on the trail of macadam Before me. Mind fixed on the gold ring. Butterfly! Eyes divert and feet follow. Row upon row of towering pillars, Deep into colonnade of Oak and Elm. Where was I going? Oh, Yes! Now, I remember. The Path! Trudge over rocks and fallen bole, How far from grabbing the prize! All for the fleeting beauty of a butterfly.
I wrote this little verse that pretty much describes my own life. I am easily distracted from the path that I’m called to follow. Something as lovely, yet fleeting, as a butterfly or a person or another project can so easily draw me away from that path. Until I look around and find that I’ve completely lost my way. Then comes the struggle to get back to that path. So much time. So much energy spent. And, for what? Chasing the uncatchable? What am I gonna do with a butterfly, anyway?
Part of me wishes that we had never met. The rational “get your head in the real world” part. That voice that speaks with a shaking head and wagging finger, “I told you to mind your own business! This is a bad idea!”
But, of course I didn’t listen. I never do.
They say that the heart wants what the heart wants. (Whoever ‘They’ are.)
Now, I have seen fields of green grass speckled with White and Purple flowers. I’ve inhaled deeply of the fragrances that waft about after the morning dew Has slaked the thirst of the plant spirits; Yarrow…Comfrey.
Sol, rising to His strength, warms me and illuminates my path. Pollen, floating, infuses the air with the sweet taste of Honeysuckle.
Now, I Know things. Your face, your hair, the shape of your eyes, Etched indelibly into the deep crevasses of my mind. Written into the very fabric of my soul.
How, then, is it possible to Unknow? Can I Unkown me? Is it conceivable that I could Unknow love?
No.
Would that I had voice to sing you to the stars! My tongue would form the words of praise to our Love So that all in the Cosmos could see and hear And Share, together with us, this Gift Given
There is a myth that states that people only use about 10% of their mental resources. That idea has fueled many science fiction books and movies. I’m reminded of an old episode of the Outer Limits where David McCallum was the subject of an experiment. In the episode human evolution was sped up. He developed enhanced mental abilities. We all knew that because his head grew larger to accommodate the increased brain mass.
Even though the myth about brain usage persists, I think that many of us do have a piece of us that is woefully underutilized. And, I think that this deficiency is a tragedy.
Human Potential.
Yep. Simple.
Let me share a little of what I mean using myself as an example. Note: I’m not saying that everyone falls into this. But, it certainly is common.
I am what some folks would call a “Creative.” I guess that means that I have an artistic side that hangs over my belt, or something. One person I knew would refer to those like me as ‘sensitive musicians.’ He used that as a pejorative. In fact, people who aren’t artists or musicians or writers or whatever do tend to hold us up to some degree of ridicule. (Actually, I think they fear us. But, that’s another story.) Believe me, we are acutely aware of the criticisms aimed at us. For some reason we are especially susceptible to these critiques. So, many times when presented with the option of living inside of our imaginations where we build worlds and launch symphonies or keeping some sort of peace with normal people, we simply acquiesce and do nothing.
Lost potential.
There are other times when our minds are so full that our heads and hearts feel like they’re going to explode. But, so many times we’re just not allowed to open the tap and let the pressure out. Eventually, the effects of stuffing our creativity turns us into mannequins. We’re not much good for anything except gathering dust and hanging clothes on.
Again, potential…Poof!
In my case, I get to come home every night and plop my skinny butt into a chair and watch television. Now, that doesn’t sound like a terrible thing, right? I work all day and some think that it’s a nice thing to get home and chillax. You know, unwind after a long day and all of that stuff. The problem is that I really hate the television. It can pretty much turn into a mind-numbing activity that I’m pretty sure was invented by aliens to lull us into a comfortable stupor so that they could show up and take over the world. But, I take part in this daily exercise in futility for one reason. To keep the peace. Like so many other creatives, we don’t do well with conflict. I avoid it like the plague. But, at what cost? Well, there’s the obvious cost of my own piece of mind and happiness. There may be a larger cost that no one ever really considers.
The loss to societies and cultures.
What do you think the world would look like if Michelangelo had given into critics? “Sorry, Pope Julius, it’s not a good time for me. Too many demands on my time. After all, I have to watch the water in the river flow past. Nothing better than that.”
What would I do if given the chance? Write? Make music? Think? All of these? No, these things don’t look like they would produce a lot. Is the loss of these things worth the cost of keeping the peace?
I don’t know.
I guess we’ll never know. I have to watch the news now.
Which Stars in the Heavens are the ones who have Crossed us? They set the boundaries of our hearts before we could even smile at one another.
And, what a smile You have!
Your eyes glow from an unseen internal fire that blazes forth Threatening to consume my heart.
Yet, it is not to be. The Heavens have spoken, “No love for You!” they say while rolling around laughing. “How presumptuous of those mere mortals! They actually thought that their lives matter! Ha! We’ll show them that their loves are worth less than the stardust that created them.”
A Bard once wrote: But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
Such love must be allowed to transcend th’ eternal dictates of the Heavens!
