Book - Mark

 I have liked to say that "The more bookmarks I leave in a book, the more the book has made its mark on me."

Because I grew up in a house with a certain fondness for books and etiquette around them. While I don't have misplaced reverence for the objects themselves, it just seemed to be good courtesy and behavior to treat them a certain way. I don't like the idea of writing notes in books, though I have made an exception in a books I planned to keep by highlighting passages I really liked. But that behavior mainly concerned Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton, a book that was rather short, and would have yet been full of bookmarks otherwise. A lot of interesting things were said in that book and it entertains me that it was a snapshot of a time in Chesterton's mind. No revisions or anniversary revisitings of his Orthodoxy. Chesterton wrote books at the drop of a hat and in his life, a lot of hats fell off his vigorous head.

And as for "dog earring" pages? I suspected that I was being slightly inconsiderate to future readers of the book, and perhaps myself in making progress through it if I kept stopping.

And as for marking my place by placing it page side down? ... I am not perfect. I admittedly will use all kinds of things for bookmarks, but in the lack of finding any flat object close to hand, I have cracked some spines in my time.

But what brought this blog post to mind is that I have rediscovered a leather bookmark with my name on it in marker with a scripture on the other side. I do not recall for certain when I was gifted this bookmark, though I have a few ideas. It is a nice reminder that someone was thinking of me and crafted something. And that I am getting around to using it for its intended purpose rather than scraps of notebook paper or baseball cards which have lost their interest and value for their original purpose.

However, I will freely declare that athlete sports cards are a delight to use as bookmarks. Troy Nixon may not have made a long impression on the Boston Red Sox legacy, but he has held his own in many a novel. And just the name "Mo Vaughn" is an excellent reminder to keep moving forward, finishing some works I have started and having permission to discontinue ones that are not grabbing me. I can Move On indeed.

I know that I have left my original book/media blog go to seed for a while. But I have been reading quite a bit each year, just, not posting reviews about things for others to see. And so it remains unsaid unless I feel especially strongly about something and want to attempt eloquence to dislodge it from my mental craw.

I have finished over 100 books this year of varying length and while some of them stick with me as resonant, all the ones I finish leave some impression. And I am grateful for that.

Pitch - Catchers

Lately I have been a little bit constipated of mind and emotions. It has caused me some distress while I figured out the source of my blockage, and in the meantime, I squirmed and shifted, waiting for a breakthrough.

Then today, a friend texted me asking how I was doing and I managed to put it into words. I kinda suspected what my issue was. In that usually I am able to sit down with one of my friends and talk frankly about my life and my thoughts about it, helping me sort my thoughts and feelings out. But the friends I can usually trust with this level of weight have been busy in their own lives. I do not resent them for this, as life happens and catches up to us all. But it left me stumped as to how to figure this out myself in the meantime, carrying my baggage until I could find a safe space to set it down.

Watched The Darjeeling Limited with a friend group last night, and it had an absolutely love visual depiction of emotional baggage and its toll. But upon finishing the film, I wasn't in the headspace and situation to properly arrange and unload my own offloading. So I was relieved to see them and have presence with them, but went home and slept on it.

Anyway, this other friend texted me and finally I was able to focus upon setting down my baggage for a second to select how to explain my problem to a new party rather than a familiar one. It set a problem that made my brain curious and unstuck to explain it thusly.

"So I am having to figure this out differently than what has been available in the past. Friends are a true treasure. But it is a mutual connection of trust built. You share certain parts of yourself with certain people because "they get this". And sometimes I can throw something outside the strike zone and they'll still catch it for me. But I have to respect that I shouldn't ask them to do that as often. It is outside their main zone."

And this helped me frame a metaphor more fully and contextualize how I was feeling. So I pursued it further to get to this:

"And tbh, I play catch for a few people to whom I don't pitch back. I have practice and can catch their thoughts, but they are not in the position  to handle what I might throw down, so I respect those boundaries and don't throw them any balls they might misunderstand or fumble. But that can get to a lot of balls for me to carry around. So I like to have friends that I can play catch with and ease my load, y'know? And with my usual catchers being busy, I am having to figure out juggling the balls and seeing if I can work on that skill of patience and fortitude for a while."

This illustration clicked for me and helped me sort myself out and get out of my own way. I am better at doing so when I ask trying to communicate with someone else, I can better understand myself. Thus, my distress and botheration as mentioned at the beginning at not syncing up with another person to "help Me help ME" sort myself out.

People need community. My mind is not a prison, but I do need to open my door so often, let in some fresh air and see if anyone outside myself understands my position. It is isolating to wonder whether I am being a "good human" with only myself as a reference. So it is nice to just see another person and ask, "You feel?" And they affirm, "I do." 

Good. 

Not just me feeling out here.

Anxious - Recursion

I was going to write something today. Pressure built up in my brain and this is often where I end up. But the topic was prompted by my sister. I had a day where an anxiety circuit tripped in my brain and I had to patiently ride it out. When I described it to my sister, she was a little distracted and was trying to be patient with hearing me out, but didn't quite understand.

And I get it. And I don't. But I try. And such is anxiety and my coping with it. Good Charlotte has a song about it and the song covers examples pretty well. "Like a clock ticking slow in a waiting room. Like a doctor calling, but he's got no news. My heart keeps racing, I don't know what to do. You're giving me anxiety! Like a message in a bottle that nobody read. The famous last words that nobody said. Tell me what is wrong tonight. You're giving me anxiety!" Or the song by fun. the band called "Be Calm" which at some points feels like a panic attack, even though the message of the song is trying to find a center and moment to collect around.

Except anxiety is like listening to a record of a song, and it getting stuck on an imperfection, looping the same moment over and over, digging the groove deeper and not progressing. The Killers have an excellent song about being stuck in emotional weight called "Rut", and it is comforting at times too. But again with the record example, it is as if I finally make my way forward and past, but every so often, that loop will for no rhyme or reason just come back to mind. And I have to get over the memory of that moment again even when not directly experiencing it. My mind just gets fixated on a moment and turns it over, trying to figure out what factors contributed to the imperfection and whether it was resolved correctly. Who was to blame? Was anyone to blame? Did anyone find it as frustrating? Did it get fixed so it is unlikely to happen again? Is anyone else still thinking about it, or were they able to leave it in the past?

To be honest, anxiety is not pleasant to explain. Or hear about, because even if it is described accurately, it is conveying discomfort in a situation that you desperately want to leave. And if it is conveyed poorly with increased fragmentation and greater length of failure? Then the latter example becomes an case study in itself, only it takes longer to reach that result.

My experience with anxiety is that my brain gets stuck on a perceived threat of a problem, then hyperfocuses on finding solutions to resolve it in different ways. And this process goes on until a satisfactory result is found. Sometimes the problem is something that already happened, but my mind wants to check if there was any potential fallout from the course chosen which might have polluted the current landscape of relationships with any nearby witnesses. And sometimes the problem doesn't exist yet. And sometimes it never does. It is like accidentally asking an old computer to run a search query and the computer just puts everything else on hold while it figures it out.

I neglected to mention that often the perceived problem is not even very relevant. Though the example of something that happened in the past being reworked in the present is, by definition, futile. (Unless the problem being resolved has to do with finding a solution to being about time travel. But then, it is too late, because it should have been figured out then. And if figured out now? Then you can't go back because now is the earliest you could have had a time machine. If it was already available in that past memory, you would not be here now because it would have happened differently. ["How to live safely in a Science Fiction Universe," by Charles Yu deals with this issue. So I guess he is to blame for the parenthetical. Because I barely understand the edges of that book's potential, but find it fascinating and fun nonetheless.]) But my mind doesn't want to get off the track into actually being present and useful. So I can try to "force quit" what I am doing to try to clear the jam, or just wait it out to see if it exhausts itself and decides to settle on something as an okay solution or just gives up and lets me redirect my focus.

My anxiety just uses my brain's potential against me. I am both decently smart and hopelessly paralyzed. Both can be true at once without being a paradox. I have trouble making decisions at times because my brain panics and tries to consult with multiple paths of potential outcomes. If I were less creative at problem solving, maybe the exponential branching would not occur. I am not bragging, I am despairing at the supreme dumbness of paralysis of analysis.

There are upsides to being anxious. I try to think through problems from multiple angles, and include the input of others where I can, to check against my own view of things as rational and agreeable. I can be empathetic and compassionate at times because I want to find a solution that satisfies more than me. And people help me find ground when my brain is struck with lightning and has shocked my senses into overload. I realize my need for people. But anxiety has the downside of making me hyperaware and irritable at times, in recognizing that I crave other people to help ground me. That neediness can be exasperating at times when I am too jittery to connect and BE grounded.

It is certainly a weird realization that not everyone is wired this way. I am grateful that there are some people who do not struggle with extreme self-doubt and are able to let things go. But I have had to accept the bad sides along with the more beneficial traits. My mind can be a beautiful labyrinth, but it is embarrassing when I find myself lost inside my own construction.

Hope - Support

This year has been one for the anxious. But I have been thinking a lot and learning to trust in community being able to bear one another's burdens, as Galatians 6:2 mentions. And it has eased my mind. God has been faithful during this time. I know there is hurt in the world, but I cannot stress about being the savior of it all, but to try to address what is feasible to me to handle. Please don't shame me for this, for I always think I can do more, but such thinking can spiral me off course again. I have to work the problem before me, one manageable step at a time.

There is a song that came to mind again this year (As well as "This Year" by the Mountain goats, an evergreen anthem that really found deeper roots -covered live on both days of the band's Jordan Lake Sessions concert last year.). But this song is called "Faint Not" by Jenny + Tyler. I may have written about it before, but here it is again. It starts a bit rough, but it smooths and builds on itself. It is about problems we face as a society and how our hearts are not strong enough on their own to bear the weight of caring about them. There is a need to overcome, but we need to look to the Lord for the strength to carry on when we are weak. I really found the song apt in the last year with issues that surfaced to stark focus.

Another song is Rich Mullins' "Hope to Carry On", which is worshipfully triumphant about Christ's life giving us hope and an example to follow. But I am more personally fond of his song from a Liturgy, a Legacy, a Ragamuffin Band (One of the albums most dear to my soul for its electiticism and passion) called "I'll Carry On". I remember this most vividly when I put it on during a car ride with my dad to commute to college campus. I was feeling fatigued in the middle of a semester, wondering if I was on the right path for my major and where it would lead me in life. But this song felt so first person, talking about leaving home and setting off, holding chin up to the uncertain future, equipped with two strong hands and the memories and support of his community. It reminded me that I was not alone and I needed to leverage that confidence and support others had given me throughout the years.

I often had a habit of getting overwhelmed by self-doubt and anxiety spirals over things that looked like insurmountable obstacles in my path. But it was my pride that whispered I was responsible for overcoming them on my own. But I had others around me with the same path, and I could discuss what to do about it together. Another mental scenario would allow me to consider if I made myself vulnerable by admitting doubt and a need for help, whether another person would scoff and dismiss my concern as weak. But this was my fear, and it is also reasonably common. It takes a brave and honest soul to be the first to open up the door to a desire for collaboration when there is the possibility that the doors could be slammed shut multiple times along the way by the jealous, individualists, and the insecure. I am not blaming or shaming them. But college can be competitive at times and collectivist in others. But however many group projects were assigned, there were still those in the first camp who did not trust others and refused to risk the fate of their grade upon the behavior and work ethic of others.

But even self help and business books stress that the world operates on interdependence, which is frightening to realize that the underpinning structure of the world is an intertwining of economic fates. It requires trust in the work of unseen hands and minds that they will hold up their ends and jobs so that there is not a mutual cascading failure that affects all parties' lives. It is either mutually assured construction/destruction. Big idea and theory, which can be comforting or worrying depending on how in control you feel about your own life at the moment. Small things build outward to bigger bases of foundation and comfort.

But I am called by God's example not only to trust others because of mutual self-interest, but to actually care about others regardless of how it benefits me. There is a line in Rich Mullins's song "Damascus Road" that drives this home for me, "I say I wanna give you glory, Lord, and I do. But everything that I can think to offer comes from You. So if my darkness can praise Your light, give me breath, and I'll give my life to sing Your praise." And this life is a gift I cannot repay, my rebirth and redemption in hope of a clean future even more so. But it is a relationship that is built on trust, and humble admission that I cannot earn it. It does not make sense that God would give me this hope, but I am grateful for it.

Maybe I am a fool when witnessed by others who do not acknowledge my God to praise Him for something that I cannot help - just being here. If God created everything, why are some things still broken and I feel wrong and empty at times? Life does that to people, Job 1:21-22, even after great loss, one which I have not experienced, nor might have the same faith and trust if it did. But I do not rest in brokenness, for I have hope of better and want to play my small part in making it better. I love C.S. Lewis's The Problem of Pain, a book that wrestles with the idea of what pain and suffering have to do when reconciled with the belief in a gracious God. Simply put, if this world be so awful and hurtful, what is the source of drive and frustration within us that this world SHOULD be otherwise than the way it is?

But this answer is not satisfying to all. And I would have to try my best to find a means to communicate it to those willing to hear me out. I can't save everyone, nor appeal to everyone, but I don't have to stress like that. I need to have confidence that God can use others like he uses me, that together we all can minister to our communities and bear one another's burdens. It is not on me to be overwhelmed and exhausted, but to trust that Ecclesiastes 4:12 holds true as well as Matthew 11:25-30.

The title track of Jars of Clay's "The Eleventh Hour" project haunts me sometimes, but the chorus calling for rescue from doubt is sometimes all too tempting. But "I Need You" from the same album is a more directed and trusting spirit and I should reach for that footing more often. As well as their other song "Valley Song (Sing of Your Mercy)" which I encountered before I grew to love the band and had clowned on their sincerity. Because to be that honest and vulnerable about trust and redemption takes bravery to admit as I stated earlier, and in my immaturity, I did not have that humility. Another song from the "Furthermore" project of live and demo songs by Jars of Clay is now one of my favorites to come back to visit when I need centering for my wandering heart and mind. "Redemption" is a perfect song for me in this regard. I still don't claim to know why it was written, but it means something to me. God bless the poets, the patient, and the providers who showed me grace and hope before I recognized the full depth of my need.

Brotherhood - Visitation.

 I want to start this with a journey. It is a known quantity that Philadelphia is "The City of Brotherly Love". And as a young child, I loved their football team's colors and decided to be an Eagles fan in the era of Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb. It should be simple and pure to love your brother. But, alas, the city itself had to be complicated, its citizens generally having some of the most curious relationship of fierce love and hate for their teams and any visitors. I have been there twice over the years, and was lectured on the proper way to order an authentic Philly Cheesesteak. Which involved short commands and cheese-whiz. These guidelines are antithetical to my Midwestern sensibilities.

So that which is a real experience sometimes involves fake food and bluntness. And I don't like that. I like to take my time and tell a story I find interesting. The journey is more than the destination. But brotherhood is a complicated thing. God bless Philly for reinforcing that point with their unapologetic authenticity and difficulty.

Because I have a brother and he is stunning. He is sharper than I am, in both word and deed. He is electrifying and ambitious. We are both competitive, but he is more honest about it than I am. He lives his life to an alert purpose - when he works, he does with his whole self. And the same with leisure - his rest and regathering has its own purposefulness to it. I admire his focus and throughness, his decisiveness and charm.

But it is hard for us to understand each other at times. I like to defer to him, but my passivity may annoy him at times. I have giftings, but I hesitate to show them to others, and sometimes squander opportunities by analyzing them too long before acting. I am working to course correct this through habits, but that is not the focus here. The focus is my brother and our relationship. I love him dearly and to watch him act is a thing of beauty and economy. He will find the most efficient way to accomplish things. But I don't think that way - I go through life as a narrative and delight in making interesting choices, which do not always lead to the most direct route. Why do I do this? I guess because I like to be surprised, even by myself. But I realize this can be frustrating behavior when my actions involve more than myself. So I am apologetic and patient when being upbraided for the loss of time.

I love my brother, but we are not alike. We might have similar motivations, but different manifestations and triggers of what spurs us to act. And there are times I could look back and regret that I didn't do certain things at certain times in our relationship. But it is wasteful, wistful thinking to indulge. My brother and I chose different things at different times, shaping and being shaped by our current circumstances to be who we are now. Because of and in spite of intentions along the way and how we interacted with each other, our family, our friends.

So I am often thinking of my brother, and keep on wishing him well. It is always nice to see him and where his talents and ambitions have taken him. I want him to be able to enjoy and live his life to his full potential and joy, and have people around him who recognize his value and support that vision. I want people to love my brother in all his complexity, because brotherly love is multifaceted and I don't have the capacity to love him in all the ways he deserves. I have to accept my limitations and pray for him that God can meet his needs and wants where I fall short. My brother does not need my help, but I ever want to give it to him. I am not my brother's keeper, but I want to be his supporter if I can be there for him.

Year - Myself

There are times that I forget myself. I don't remember that I am a person that other people might be invested in. And it is not that I think people dislike me, but I am often self-aware of my flaws and shortcomings, and how much I admire and love other people that it does not occur to me that I am as loved.

I am more comfortable with giving than I am receiving, and it is something that God has been working on with me. I am always grateful to receive love and affection, but it does not strike me as something I am entitled to have. I like earning things. I like doing work for others and the gratitude I get back from a job well done. But God doesn't work that way. He loves without expectation of a reciprocal return of being worthy or deserving of that love. And it always surprises and inspires me. I want to live into that love and mirror it in my life. But I am forgetful that others might love me too. And I am ever surprised and delighted to discover that.

God's mercies are new every morning, and I am forgetful of that as well sometimes. I wake up some mornings and don't feel especially hopeful or gracious. But God is both those things and so much more, and I want to be like my heavenly Father and learn to have that hope and grace. He is patient with His children, and gives good gifts beyond what it would be fathomable to know, and as needful that I don't even realize I cannot live without those supports.

Recently, I remembered the female fronted rock group Flyleaf, and wondered what they did beyond their debut album. So I looked them up on Spotify and learned that they had a cover of "How He Loves" recorded at a live concert. And I was able to hear the message of the song anew, in an unfamiliar context, having to reevaluate the lyrics. It was such an unusual choice that I had to really consider the song beyond how I took it for granted at Sunday worship services. I am as guilty of consumerist tendencies as anyone - what becomes familiar and known by rote sometimes does not have the same impact on the heart and mind. But the song's lyrics are beautiful and touching. "How He Loves" is such a sweet reminder of God's overwhelming care for His children. And I am so appreciative of that reminder in the strange package of a Southern heavy distortion rock group.

My family threw me a surprise birthday party after a long day. I was tired by the day's events, and had limited capacity to react properly. I was extremely surprised and flattered, but also mainly baffled. I am such an advocate for my family and their vast array of talents, skills, and loves, that I forget that they love me too. Not for what I can give them, but for me being me. I live with me all the time. I can be self-aware & occasionally self-obsessed when lost in my own thoughts and logic for how the world works and makes sense to me, but I am rarely self-impressed. The things that come natural to me I take for granted that anyone else could do because it comes easily to me. I admire traits I lack because I know that some of them are difficult for me to perform myself and I am glad to know that they are humanly possible by seeing them modelled in another. I am better at copying something when I see an example of how something can be done. And I am still learning, and am ever in the process of becoming and striving to improve and progress.

But I forget that others love me for who I am, not for any value or worth of the things I can give them. There is love that is beyond earning, and past understanding. I am so grateful for that love, but ever surprised at its depths. I think of Psalm 139, but especially verse 6. And in lacking that understanding, I can fight the flood or accept it as beyond me and accept as much of it as I can contain, hoping to lead others to do the same by pouring into their lives from the excessive love I have received. God bless my family for this reminder. And may I always remember this love with the same wonder as the first time and cherish those around me as well.

X - Nihilo

 How to create something beautiful?:

It is a mixed message. A question and a process for me. Only God can create from nothing to something. And looking around, I see beautiful things. Broken things too as time has had its way and people have worked their wills to try to shape resources for their own or society's benefit. But looking to what God can do, I sometimes feel powerless in comparison. What is my best efforts compared to that? A child's scribble, always looking to nature and seeing my own imperfections in capturing the wild beauty and brutality of the originals.

There are some times where it is tempting to look to the heavens and ask why God has allowed this disconnect to occur between what I feel to be right, righteous, and true with how I am unable to recreate or fix the brokenness. Somebody should create bumpers or safeguards so we do not mar the beauty of creation. Why shouldn't God police nature to be unbreakable?

But with love comes risk, and God loves us enough to allow mistakes to be made without helicopter parenting us to not break things. He sees us as more precious than many things in creation, "very good" in Genesis 1:31 terms. But with that love comes responsibility to be caretakers and stewards of creation, then because of sin, that job was made harder by the world's brokenness in the Fall from grace.

Everything suffers from that choice and it would be convenient to point back to that moment as to when things went wrong. Through the lens of history to blame that forebearer for everything that followed. But I don't want to dwell on that. What happened happened, and it does not do to wonder what might have been had we not fallen as a race. Perhaps a convenient myth or fantasy to frame the world, but I don't know. I only know what I can do after I came to life in this world.

So what to do? How to make something beautiful? I crochet quite a bit. It calms me to bring order to the chaos of raw yarn to shape it to my will. But I don't always succeed. I try to love my creations because I made them and spent time with them under my fingers. No one else can quite love a creation like a Creator, having pride in the unwitnessed private moments of inspiration, and seeing the flaws of what could have gone better. But ever trying to improve in the successive attempts. I feel relief if someone else finds joy in my finished product, even if it is a different joy than my own. I love passing objects to others that they might have a new home - a puzzle piece that fits. Like the Realness of the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, or the beginning of Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society in which it was dreamed that a book can find an reader who needs and loves it. That the love of a right object at the right moment can connect people.

But how to create something beautiful is a process of patience, hope, and love. To forgive yourself and others for their faults and see the potential of how sharp and broken edges can catch on other things and drift together, connecting lives. Some times it hurts when something or someone connected to your life presses into your core self, where you are vulnerable in your own identity. But such trust and long-suffering, though risky, is a deep connection shared. If an object or person is withdrawn, from that deep core connection, it is painful and it hurts to lose something or someone who you have given pieces of yourself.

So how to create something beautiful? It is hard to put into words because what is deep inside me is hard to communicate to others. It does not fit into a universal description that I can explain clearly to others. I can talk around it to try to give the shape of what I am trying to say, but Christ spoke in parables, in seeds that grow in the hearts of his listeners to gain their own unique shape of understanding when mature. I have hope that my life and my work can be beautiful things too. But when you see something beautiful that is too overwhelming to your senses, you want to share it by spilling it to others to witness. C.S. Lewis wrote about this longing for beauty to be witnessed by others and recognized. And I see God in that spark in His creation, and in the moments I myself am able to take pride in something I have made. A sense of peace and rightness that I have made something "very good."