hocus pocus focus locus

the amount of focused i have been this semester is a little magical to me. i have not just "skipped class", i have not procrastinated (half as much), i have gotten sleep (most of the time), have kept a (somewhat steady) workout routine, and have spent time with Jesus everyday.

if you know me, this is not at all congruous with my typical disheveled self. if i didn't know any better, i would say that a dramatic personality shift has taken place.

but this, in fact, is not at all true.

the biggest contributing factor (to my whole life but also) to this semester's success is the letting go of my (feeble) belief in the idea that my locus of control is internal. a whole-hearted surrendering to Jesus Christ every day has relieved the pressure and left only passion for (most of) the subjects i've been given to study (this statement excludes statistics. i have no passion for it. whatsoever. ew). 

within two weeks i have: cast bronze, written and presented an abstract for a research paper, began my last sculpture of the semester, thrown up outside of michael's, heard a poetry reading, worked with a world class artist, fell more in love with east tennessee, grown more fond of david, signed up for spring classes, and found out a definite graduation date.

that has left me a bit (emotionally and, at certain times, physically) dizzy. but there is still a peaceful gratitude that pervades my relationships, my speech, and even the way i plan. i am fully confident that "today" comes and goes like a wind. that thought just doesn't distress me as it used to. the time for me to know "where i'm going" is approaching so quickly, but i have never been so at peace with not knowing as i am now.

i don't believe in an external locus of control that leaves my life up to chance. that would be a miserable existence. instead, i rest boldly in the knowledge that i have a loving, guiding, ever-present Father. He is there. with me. 

alwaysalwaysalways. 

so as i am thinking on graduation and finals and a new year and growing older, i am unconcerned with the possibility that my fragile plans will fall through or that i will get hurt or even that i may fail at something crucial in my life. 

i know that He is with me. and that is enough.


post-script: this post is really scattered and unfocused. and it initially was supposed to be about how focus has become a part of my life. the irony abounds.

because i do not want to do statistics homework on this friday morning

my focus is split:

(my mind is sizzling sizzling simmering simmering
two halves of grey matter always straining separate ways.)

i am here at this table
typing on my expensive equipment and
drinking average coffee from a non-descript mug.
i am in a ravine filled with gravel and railroad ties,
trying to be still enough
to make sense of what is to come.

the trees blowing in the wind clatter and shatter
the silence i long for
as they beat the tall dirt walls that encompass me.
the voices in the coffeeshop,
the dishes chinking, clinking
the little girl jumping into the squares of linoleum,
all remind me of the chaos of solitude.

my textbooks (sitting in front of me) tried to teach me
everything i needed to know
about this
about being caught and tangled in
the swift current of time and space and psychoanalysis and friendships and lovers and religion and clay caught between my fingers and cuts and abstracts and music and laughter and life and death.

but they didn't know.

they didn't know that within one person is two minds.
they didn't know that i would die to live longer and live to die later.
they didn't know that my heart was dark from the beginning and only made light by what they called "spirituality"

they didn't know.
and yet and yet and yet
i trusted them with my dark heart and my fractured mind.
i waited for them to tell me how to write and what to think
and paid them tremendously for it.
i have sacrificed my rest and my peace to them,
o those gods of academia,
and now knowing when this intellectual purgatory will end

i am lost.

and you don't know why

i lack organization skills and i have a terrible logical flow.
so i'm going to split this post into two stories that come to one conclusion about my generation and society at large.
i hope that's alright.

A. last night, i had the incredible privilege to see five bands play that i know and respect on a college campus. they were all very talented in their own right, and i enjoyed them immensely.
the highlight of the night for me, though, was listening to my long-time favorite, night beds.

winston yellen sauntered onto the stage and my anticipation grew. he was obviously nervous (and slightly intoxicated) but as soon as he began to sing, that didn't matter. there is a vulnerability and a power to yellen's music that is almost prayer-like. his rhythms tend to be deeply rooted .if his music could lean into any genres it would be old-style country or jazz. that said, there is something intensely spiritual and introspective about his work, regardless of his broken worldview.

so he's up there, singing us soft songs about love and darkness and isolation. the words are piercing and relatable. i took a look around me, and the majority of the students there had blank expressions on their faces and looked like could not care less. stuff like that slays me.

B. last week, i was driving home to open for my largest musical inspiration (courtney marie andrews).  i was obviously nervous (but not intoxicated...just didn't want that parallel to yellin to cause any confusion) so i listened to the radio all the way to chattanooga. i generally stick to npr, the classical station, or oldies when i do turn on my radio. but this time, i just put on the "mainstream" music.

it was almost incredible to me that, song after song, what was being expressed (under a disguise of whiny voices and identical musical structures) was always apathy and despair and a longing for sexual satisfaction. those things all go hand-in-hand. those kinds of emptinesses (that's probably not a word) all point to Christ. and no one can see that. stuff like that slays me.

both of these stories are stark pictures of my generation (and society at large). we are a generation that suffers from intense isolation (due to whatever thing you want to blame it on) and a loose understanding of love and friendship. we are afraid to care about anything (like the students i mentioned) because we are afraid of being rejected from our peer group and becoming an unloved outcast. we are afraid to care about soulful things because we know that if we look long enough, we will see our weaknesses. we are afraid to be sober because we know that, in an a state aware of pain, we will be sad. we are afraid to be alone, but also afraid to be committed to loving someone else. we are afraid to do all these things. so we become sketch-like renditions of humans with hearts instead of the real deal.

the saddest thing about all of this, is that none of it is new. we are living in an ecclesiastical world where everything, even my life or your life, is a vapor. and when we live without the empowering love of Christ and the enabling grace of God and the inspiring fire of the Holy Spirit, it is indeed a vapid life.

the most joyous thing about all of this, is that we don't have to be apathetic and despondent. we have the choice (what a beautiful word) to commit to something real. it is a scary choice, so scary that many turn away from it, but it is the best one.

the lyrics to one song by night beds are:

when the sorrow comes,
and you don't know why,
come into my arms.
i'll hold you through the night.
and in the morning light,
we'll be sure to find
a kind of love so strong
it will make us cry faithful heights.

i know you get lost sometimes, man
i know you get lost.
i know you get lost sometimes, man
i know you get lost.
whenever you get lost, man
whenever you get lost, man
whenever you get lost, man
whenever you get lost 
hold my hand.

yellen usually performs this song without music. his voice rises up like a plaintive prayer.
this song is like what Jesus calls out to us. He assures us that when the sorrow comes and we don't know why, He alone is the one to hold us. He leads us to a powerful love. He brings us to our knees.

but until you or i or anyone else acknowledges that He is there and He is love and He is all,

we are lost.

don't choose to live a small, a frightened, and an aimless life, there is so much in this world (and infinitely more in the spiritual world) to actually care about.

monday morning thoughts

it is early enough where the mist and frost is still thick around my door in my apartment. i am drinking coffee and literally minutes from heading down to a statistics exam that i tried desperately to prepare for.
i have been thinking about acceptance a lot. partly because that has always been a struggle of mine (accepting myself more than others) and partly because a couple dear people i know are reading Brennan Manning's Ragamuffin Gospel. this book is a gem that deals with accepting love from Jesus and others. besides love, i feel like it is often hard to accept what you really are.

let me elaborate a little (i have exactly eight minutes until i need to go...so it won't be too long. promise)

i spent most of highschool over-committing myself and kind of drowning myself with friends and fellowship. i thought i loved it, when the reality is, it drove me crazy. i remember so many times coming home from a function or a retreat or a class or a game night feeling so drained. i spent a lot of time honing my people skills to the point where i could make a friend within an hour. the result of all of this was me thinking that i had a large personality and a loud voice and a boisterously fun disposition. in my mind, i was the girl in the group that would initiate the fun and lead it brilliantly. i did not at all see that my chaotic social life and my long list of friends were correlated with feelings of isolation and depression. i rarely spent time with myself. when i did, it was uncomfortable and i would usually find someone to see or be with.
after hard lessons about God's ability to open my eyes to my own dark heart, i realized i am a small woman. yes, i do love people. i am capable of initiating. i am passionate about loving my friends well. but i need to be with just Jesus and just me at least a little bit a day, or i grow terribly blue. it's just fact.
i used to think something was a little bit wrong with me. but i know now that that something is part of what makes me beautiful and pleasing to God.

all this to say,
God glories in creating the small people or the quiet people or the loners or the introverts or whatever you call them. He painstakingly made us so that we would long for solitude and long for Him.
and it's kind of nice.

that's really all. i might be late for that exam. oops.

p.s. God of course delights in extroverts as well. no partiality there.

may His beauty rest upon me.

i feel like i always have things i want to write about, but i never get the time to really sit down and write. much of my time is spent doing school which is draining and interesting and i never quite feel like i'm done. but that's alright.
this week i have felt so many blessings. blessings in my relationships, blessings in academics, and blessings in things like feeling made beautiful and loved by my Savior.
last weekend, i brought david home to meet the family (talk about a strange experience) and it was all sunshine and meeting people and seeing loved ones. during church we sang a hymn that touched my heart so deeply. it's been my anthem all semester and i haven't even known it. katie barclay wilkinson gave me words to quantify what i've been feeling as of late.

and it's perfect:

May the mind of Christ my Savior
Live in me from day to day,
By His love and pow’r controlling
  All I do and say.

May the Word of Christ dwell richly
In my heart from hour to hour,
So that all may see I triumph
  Only through His pow’r.

May the peace of Christ my Savior
Rule my life in every thing,
That I may be calm to comfort
  Sick and sorrowing.

May the love of Jesus fill me,
As the waters fill the sea;
Him exalting, self abasing,
  This is victory.

May I run the race before me,
Strong and brave to face the foe,
Looking only unto Jesus
  As I onward go.

May His beauty rest upon me
As I seek the lost to win,
And may they forget the channel,
  Seeing only Him.

-Katie Barclay Wilkinson.

unversed

i was sitting in my american poetry class on the very first day of all the days of class during the fall of two thousand thirteen.

the professor was asking the people sitting in the room with me (in such an endearing way) what his or her favorite book of the summer was. my fellow classmates began sharing.

within five minutes, i realized how little i have read.

 i have always been all over the place in every area of my life. because of this, though i read tons in high school and early college, i would read one novel or memoir and quickly move to the next one. i wouldn't pay attention to if it was a classic or contemporary or written by a genius. my method, although it covered a lot of ground, left some very huge gaps in some very important areas.

thus, i have begun a quite overwhelming mission to investigate all those words and thoughts and ideas in all those books in the library i have never opened. Ginsberg, Williams (William Carlos and Tennessee), Hart Crane, Capote, Vonnegut, and many others have been (and will be) keeping me company where ever i go.

i once heard that you really have the most time to do superfluous reading in college. as ridiculous as that sounds, i think i'm going to cling to it and make it my motto or something.

all that to say, i have been reading a lot. and i plan to read more. and it's always nice to share thoughts about what i read. so i guess i'm warning you that posts may be lengthy and frequent and completely selfish ways for me to share an exhaustive version of my opinions.

as i sit here

as i sit here, on my couch, i am perpending the sensations of wonder that have come during the days that most recently passed (for they have been beautiful days). the sounds of the approaching night are wandering in through the screen door and my mouth tastes of honey-sweet coffee and dark purple muscadines that only arrive at the conclusion of summer.
nothing monumental has been done today, but the momentous nature of the day weighs upon me. i remember feeling an intense fear for the first time this day. i was a small child, still unable to grasp many of the dark emotions that seem to dominate this world. i did not know what hate really was, but i knew, while watching that square television screen, what hate looked like. i didn't know what grief really was, but i knew, while watching my mother cry and hearing my dad's distorted voice on the phone, what grief looked like.
it's crazy to think about the freedom i have on this earth because of the multitude of people that have ended their stories and slept forever for this country.
it's even more bizarre to realize that the physical freedom i have right now, on this couch with my friends so near and the lovely trees outside my window and the satisfaction of a day well-spent, is so pale and small and tenuous compared to how free i really am. one man, who was also God, who was also man, died and felt alone and lived a life despised by many (if not all) people, for this soul of mine. for that soul of yours. and for the two thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-six souls that found themselves without bodies on this day, twelve years ago.

i am free.
you are free.

but we aren't quite yet to the true "sweet land of liberty."
so hold fast.