Obsessions, Passions and Addictions

So I'm reading along in that great classic by Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones. And she has this chapter on writing about our obsessions. Because, as she says, whether we acknowledge them or not, they're part of us. Some of them, the main ones, probably have power over us and may emerge again and again in some form, be it in our writing or just our everyday living. So rather than deny them, she says to write about them. I don't think she means to write entire books (or even blog posts) about them, but just to get them out. Acknowledge them head on. In getting them out, you can probably put them to good use.

Immediately I started making a list, right there in the book. The first thing that came to mind was coffee (I was in a coffee shop as I read that chapter). Can one be obsessed with coffee? I don't think it's exactly an addiction. I drink mostly decaf and don't get the jitters or headaches associated with a caffeine addiction. But most days, one of the primary things on my mind is where and when am I going to get a good cup of coffee. Ideally it's at home. But that doesn't always happen. When I went away in February, I thought I would die - when you travel with a tea drinker and an "anything goes" coffee drinker, you know your chances of a good "cuppa" are slim to none. I swear I felt a little panic set in, but perhaps that was associated with my utter dislike of airports and travel in general.

Another obsession of mine is about as pathetic. Socks. I love socks. But socks must match - period. It's probably a hangover from Bible college days when casual dress meant a long denim or khaki skirt, socks and tennis shoes (over pantyhose - we were not allowed to go without!) I guess the best thing I had going for me was my socks! My poor feet have been cringing in embarrassment all day because my socks are navy blue and my jeans are black.

This was a fun line of thinking to explore. What are my obsessions? My addictions? My passions? Have I clearly defined the difference in my mind? What do I dwell on, subconsciously as well as consciously? Where's my heart? Am I giving anything power over me that belongs to God? Lots of good journaling fodder!

Funny, when I went on retreat in April, the coffee thing didn't cross my mind. Which tells me obsessions don't have to possess me. Tomorrow maybe I'll wear two different color socks, just to psyche myself out!

Sad News: Madeleine L'Engle dead at 88

I was deeply saddened today to learn that Madeleine L'Engle passed away yesterday . She was one of those authors I read as a child and enjoyed as only a child can. I began rereading her fiction several summers ago and loved them in an entirely new way. Then I began delving into her non-fiction, starting with A Circle of Quiet. It's a semi-autobiographical recounting of her life, interspersed with her deep insights and perspectives.

The thing I appreciated most about L'Engle was her childlike awe and humility. She never confessed to know or understand everything; in fact she was not afraid to voice her doubts. I think that's pretty amazing in this world where what we know (or think we know) seems to hold rank over everything else.

I recently shared this quotation from A Circle of Quiet with someone. I'm pretty sure it's been one of the most influential things I've ever read. I can't say it has changed me, but rather that it's changing me.

"When we are *self*-conscious, we cannot be wholly aware; we must throw ourselves out first. This throwing ourselves away is the act of creativity. So, when we wholly concentrate, like a child in play, or an artist at work, then we share in the act of creating. We not only escape time, we also escape our self-conscious selves. The Greeks had a word for ultimate self-consciousness which I find illuminating: *hubris*: pride: pride in the sense of putting oneself in the center of the universe. The strange and terrible thing is that this kind of total self-consciousness invariably ends in self-annihilation...

"... I was timid about putting forth most of these thoughts, but this kind of timidity is itself a form of pride. The moment that humility becomes self-conscious, it becomes hubris. One cannot be humble and aware of oneself at the same time. Therefore, the act of creating—painting a picture, singing a song, writing a story—is a humble act? This was a new thought to me. Humility is throwing oneself away in complete concentration on something or someone else.". ...that special kind of creative courage which is unself-conscious: the moment you wonder whether or not you can do it, you can't."

Rest in peace, Madeleine L'Engle.

To Philly & Beyond

[To my husband, if you are reading this: I think there's a new episode of COPS on tonight. You'd probably be happier if you watched that and skipped this post!]

Silly me. I thought I was taking a short trip to the other side of my beloved state. Nine hours later, I feel like I went to the other side of the country. (For those of you geographically challenged folks, Philly is supposed to be about 5 hours from Pittsburgh!)

Interspersed between my continued thoughts of “what in the world am I doing?” were just a few humorous impressions that make me wonder what I did before there was blogging?

For instance, what in the world prevented me from stopping to use the restroom or eat while I was merrily traveling along the PA turnpike? Oh, perhaps it was the blinding rain or something like that. So what in the world possessed me to stop in Downingtown, PA at one of my company’s satellite warehouses for a “quick” meet and greet? This is not a business trip people! Someone should have told me that. Well, at least I got to use a restroom and a tour of one very dirty carbon warehouse.

Talk about bad directions though. It turned out to be almost an hour off the beaten path . . . and the directions “back” to the turnpike were equally as bad. In fact, I never actually made it back to the turnpike. Nope, we just bypassed that and headed straight for the heart of Philadelphia. So where was the brotherly love, you ask? Well, it was all sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

I’m working on a post about limits. Let me just say I realized a new one of my own today. I cannot see to drive without my glasses. But with my glasses on, I cannot read. Not a good situation when you need to navigate the road while checking your atlas. I gave up. I called my office and a few friends got on the internet and voila! They were better than On-star and free too! Soon I knew I was within the vicinity of my hotel.

My hotel. Ah yes. I see it. Over there. Six lanes over. No kidding. There were six lanes going in one direction – two sets of three lanes divided by a barrier. Let me tell you, Pittsburghers do not know what to do with more than two lanes going in the same direction. Especially not more than two lanes without construction work of some kind. So there I was, in the outer set of lanes. I need to be over there. Just get over and merge right where the barrier breaks. Yeah, right. I don’t think I’ve ever had to merge right before. Oops – excuse me sir. No, I really wasn’t trying to get over in your lane. I’ll just drive another twenty miles and turn around!

Anyways, I made it. I think I can find my way to the meeting site tomorrow. I didn’t dare venture out for dinner tonight, even though I hadn’t eaten more than a pop-tart and apple all day. The over-priced hotel restaurant suited me just fine. Top off the evening with a cup of hotel room coffee with powdered creamer and a pack of cookies from the vending machine. A perfect reward for not totally losing my mind today! But I must say, I am still asking, “What in the world am I doing here?”

To be continued and hopefully answered in the next two days!

Step Away From the Painting

Natalie Goldberg, in Writing Down the Bones, reminds me "I am not my words." They are but an expression of myself at a particular time and place, but if I’m always growing and changing, I can’t be my words. They are not me.

Yet so often it’s like I’m married to my words. Sometimes I spend so much time working on something that when it’s said and done – be it published on my blog or submitted to an editor for review or emailed back to a client - (not that #2 and #3 have happened much lately), it’s all I can do not to stand there gazing at it. Imagine an artist who hangs around the gallery all day, staring at his work and watching people looking at his work. He quits seeing what could be. He ceases to look for the next sunset. He misses the next antic of a precious child. By focusing on what was, captured in his art, he misses what could be.

I face the same temptation with writing. I tend to hang around the gallery, a little awestruck by my work, watching others’ reactions. I need to walk away, back to the very blank canvas that awaits me in the privacy of my own thoughts, and once again look for the next sunset or smiling child.

I need to do this whether or not the work was a flop. Disengage my soul from it. On to new business.

I’m trying to do this with life as well. Only in life, I tend to fixate on the flops. The mistakes at work and the glitches in relationships. And I walk away with visions of the mistake on the canvas of my mind, and not surprisingly, the next act is often tainted with error as well.

If we want to be growing and changing, we have to be willing to walk away. Christ didn’t stay on the cross. He’s about the business of transforming lives – yours and mine. He’s on to new business – I want to be too.

What makes a novel Christian?

What makes a novel Christian?  This was the topic today on the Faith In Fiction (http://faithinfiction.blogspot.com) blog.  It's funny because a similar thought has been working its way through my mind lately.  I keep recalling the verse in Acts where it says the disciples were first called Christians at Antioch.  It doesn't necessarily say they called themselves Christians.  According to Easton's Bible Dictionary (1897), this was the name by which the Greeks or Romans referred to the followers of Christ, probably a degrading term.  From Paul's writings, we know that the disciples called themselves "saints" or "brethren."  The name Christian itself is used only a few times in the New Testament. 

What does this mean to me?  Simply this: I believe my Christianity is more about what others perceive me to be than just what I call myself.  Didn't Paul say we could speak with the most glorious tongues and without love, be absolutely nothing?  So what if I do call myself a Christian?  Does doing so make me His follower? Does it ensure that my actions are Christlike? I tend to think not.  I would rather be called a Christian by the unbelievers with whom I cross paths daily than to assume the name myself and not be what I should be.  I hope that, and fear it's less often the case than I'd like, when others look at my life, they see Christ.  In the words I speak . . . and don't speak.  In my actions and in my attitudes.  In short, I don't want to simply proclaim myself a Christian; I want my life to proclaim Christ.  I fall short but like Paul, I press toward the mark and when I fall, I'm reminded that even in my failures He can be glorified.

 

So what would constitute a "Christian" novel, or play or movie or any other form of media?  I'm still thinking on this one . . . I think I'll save this one for another post.

Cooking and Writing

Wow, I've been finding a lot of time to write lately and I made a discovery. I enjoy it! Since I decided to focus on learning the craft, instead of making money, I'm amazed at how relaxing it can be. It's kind of like cooking where I feel totally in control and not at all intimidated. I love experimenting with new recipes. I don't usually follow recipes to a "T"; instead I just get ideas and wing it. But there's a sense of satisfaction when the flavors marry nicely and my concoctions come out tasting great. Surprisingly, when they flop, I don't mind it at all. It doesn't depress me - I just take it as a challenge to make it work the next time. What usually frustrates me is when my creations fail due to lack of planning on my part.

I'm finding that writing brings the same kind of satisfaction. I still lean towards non-fiction, but it's fun to experiment with point of view and characterization in fiction. Things don't always turn out perfectly the first time and that's okay with me. They're just words, so back to the drawing board we go.

I feel like I'm on the right track, focused on laying a good foundation, so when I do start submitting pieces for publication, and querying editors with my ideas, I'll be more confident in my ability to produce. Along the way, I'm asking and answering important questions of myself, clarifying for myself what I believe. It's like I used to tell my dorm girls: get the heart right and the rest will follow.

A Wish for Words

For once I'm not wishing for words to write. I'm wishing for words to speak. I just sat and listened for a good fifteen minutes to several co-workers in the office next to me, railing on Bush, Republicans, conservatives and everything else they hate about our country. I wish I was more articulate when it comes to politics, but I just find it hard to express what I believe to be right.

 

3 Writing Wishes

Today's blog entry is taken from a Writer's Digest writing prompt: If you were granted 3 writing-related wishes, what would they be?

How fun. Three writing wishes have been granted me. So my first wish would be for direction. Sometimes I feel like I'm on a journey but I keep switching from one mode of transport to another; I really have no clue what I'd like to write. The bit of fiction I've toyed with has been fun, but I don't have enough driving purpose right now to pursue it seriously. Non-fiction comes more easily but a "have-to" feeling hovers over my shoulders when I work on a non-fiction piece. I have to find a market for this; I have to query an editor. It's just that I have so many "have-to's" during the work week, such a feeling takes all the enjoyment out of my writing. So direction would be my first wish.

Second, since these are wishes and wishes are free from the encumbrances of reality, I'd wish for a week of my gram's time. I'd love to sit and talk with her again, and I'd be sure to ask more questions and pay closer attention to her stories. Why would I not wish for a month, a year or even a return to life? Well, I'm a pretty realistic person, even when wishing. But even if wishes could come true, I know she's happier now in heaven and I wouldn't take that from her. No, just a week would be great!

My last wish? A simple, most feasible one. I wish my hands didn't hurt me so much. If they didn't, I'd probably take the time and think of something better for my third wish. As it is, this is all I can muster for tonight.

Thoughts on Writing

Isn't the power of words that God has bestowed upon us amazing? Could a man begin to count all the words that have ever been uttered on earth since the foundation of time? Through words, we can transcend time and space, at least the space that lies between the continents and exists as a language barrier. Through words, we can preserve for future generations the chronicles of our life and times, while at the same time we learn from those who've walked before us. Through words, we are able to persuade, inspire, sympathize and instruct. But the power of the words lay not in the words themselves - that mysterious conglomeration of symbols and letters. Rather, it is the owner of the words that holds the key to their power. And while that power can be used to comfort, construct and build others, it can also be used to the detriment of others. It is daily our choice, and we are responsible for every word we speak.

I pray that my words, be they many or few, may always be spoken or written in such a way that the reader is lifted up and drawn closer to Christ through them.

And should someone ever decide to preserve my words for posterity's sake, even if they were found thousands of years from now, I must remember that my words are not eternal. Like me, they will also perish someday. God's Word is the only faithful and true word for all time and eternity. The only way anything I write, therefore, can ever have lasting value, is if my words proclaim God's Word and the truth therein.