Boundaries in Blog Land

Ah, time to write...I'll just start a post and even though I 'll have to save it and add to it later, it will be like a  magnet to draw  together some of the thoughts that pass through so quickly unless I  pen them down as able.  Even if capture is incomplete, I stand a chance of some themes coalescing. 

Nothing got posted here in June. 

 I wrote and then typing in the near dark early one morning, deleted one June post I had considered calling "Weeds for Words" about the seasonal mandate of the sprouting earth and how weeding, planting and pruning had usurped keyboard time.  Living in a garden and being outside is lovely and of course it is the keyboard that should be considered the usurper.  My handwritten journal has not suffered for entries but it seems to become more and more a sequestered reality.  A family death, concern for the next generation, strange dreams, stranger encounters, political observations, cultural clashes: I can bring  a proper light to such subjects, but the first dashed thoughts  usually need to at least marinate for a while.  I would never do in the world of journalism  where the rush to scoop beats many factors  of much greater importance.  

Boundaries are important. 

 Often times boundaries are viewed simply as restrictions, look at the implications of the word "sequestered"  used above: to isolate or hide away or to take legal possession  of...  but in fact,  clear boundaries can facilitate clarity and freedom.

I wrote recently to one of  the dear hearts of my life how impressed I was with her increasing ability to use words to describe her inner terrain.  It struck me  what a growth it is to keep the internal terrain in a gentle focus while juggling the multitude of external demands. Boundaries are inextricably tied to one's ability to do and give in the world at large and then retreat to recharge.  There is a difference between giving of yourself and not giving yourself away. 

Although I didn't post here in June, I read many other people's web log entries.  I try to be generous in my willingness to  respond and comment.  I suppose I have scattered an essay or two across the blogosphere at the feet of other's blogs... that's the opportunity available to us: sharing and encouraging and being encouraged and learning from each other.  I hope soon to reference to and highlight of few of the blogs I have found noteworthy.

 While writing and reading blogs I've thought a lot about the  dilemma of personal censorship.How does one  identify internal censors, blinders, screens, misbeliefs? How does one sneak up on one's self to get a good candid shot?  It's a good trick, to lay down some of your defenses while you write about them in all their ardent hiddenness at the same time.

The delight of self encounter in the very act of writing is good stuff.   Balancing requires that one neither be too easy or too hard on one's self...  

 Ironically, our internal restraints, judicious restraints,  are part of potential openness and relaxation, we must say "No" to protect the "Yes" we have already committed to.

And sometimes the best of the candid shots are for our eyes only... and our shots of others...our understandings of others...respect and compassion for self and others...it goes a long way.  But not restraint to the point of not sharing, not giving...

What exactly do I mean by judicious restraints and boundaries?  I don't mean internal police. I don't mean a ball and chain.  I don't mean political correctness.  So many negative stereo types exist...

Trust is an important part of judicious restraint. I see internal surrender that then allows us to be free because we can trust we are barefoot where we should be barefoot and well shod for other terrain. It's the restraint that knows how edgy reality can be and even when I'm not paying super conscious attention to it, it informs me where the edges are. It's a restraint that is at the ready, you can climb mountains with it and when you start to slip the instinct leaps in every muscle. It needn't rob you of moment to moment entering in; in fact I think it gives more energy for doing so.  


Yes, there is a beautiful field of wild mountain flowers that one can reach without  as the old saying goes, "throwing all caution to the wind."

Other adages come to mind, we learn not to throw out the baby with the bath water and  not to overcorrect on a curvy road.

The body is a great teacher of boundaries. We are "fearfully and wonderfully made."  The cells, as I  remember their description from long ago biology classes, have a wall that is a semi-permeable discerning membrane.  A healthy cell boundary knows how to let  the good stuff in and separate and excrete unusable components.


Our bodies know we should try to avoid toxic realities, not over extend ourselves, that we can't safely embrace or hold onto impurities.  There's no room for what doesn't support life as a  pure flowing exchange where it is nutrients in, waste out to build strong cells, strong tissues, further organized as organs of purpose...multiple purposes, co-ordinated with an over- arching goal of letting yourself be a real,vulnerable and safe, available  and composed,distinct and unique person; a valuable existence validated  by God's love.

Tomorrow will worry about it self

The view from the cottage...the evening of May 30th, 2011

                                    

 I think of things that should be done, could be done, must be done...things I want  to do...might write, have written and not shared and as I watch the sun go down I realize that tomorrow is the last day of  May and then I remember that tomorrow will worry about itself.

Alarmists Were Predicted Long Ago

Recently a woman I know was trying to factor some fearful predictions into some economic decision she needed to make.  It’s hard enough for Lily to navigate realms of finance not having been entrusted with singular or even mutual decision making before being widowed, let alone with someone whispering in her ear that she should sell everything she has and just stock up on supplies.

Of course I’m aware of earthquakes and up-risings, and “down-troddings” and wars and rumors of war on a daily basis but I don’t tend to pay much attention to people who think they can give time lines for the future.  

I was concerned as she described to me a man who was not currently living up to his financial obligations but was offering her financial advice and either basing it on or peppering it with time tabled predictions of various global disaster scenarios.  As a result of his certainty she now felt confused and uncertain as to what she should do.

 As much as I was concerned about Lily making a hasty decision about her largest financial asset, in some ways I was more concerned that she thought she would have to be a Bible scholar to sort through this man’s predictions and the seemingly direct line of implications he drew to her circumstances. I’m no scholar myself, but I knew the Gospel according to Matthew addressed cosmic predictions.

Jesus was asked directly by his disciples what are the signs of the end of the age.  Matthew 24:3 records that  Jesus began his answer this way: "Watch out that no one deceives you...you will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed..." 

What a great place to start while figuring things out, “See to it that you are not alarmed..."   Not only is not being alarmed a desirable state of being, the 'see to it’ language intrigues me.  It’s an invitation to look inward.  Yes, what are you doing in there, getting alarmed and to what end?  

I’m struck with the emphatic quality of the instructions of Jesus to his questioning disciples. “Watch that no one deceives you and see to it that you are not alarmed.”  I really can’t imagine any realm where this isn’t good advice.

I find it interesting that before the end of the eons is discussed, or even the precursor times of trouble are described, a mindset is mandated.  If you think about never being alarmed or anxious about anything, you know that it is not something most of us embody all that well.  

So if you are going to read Matthew chapter 24 about earthquakes and famines, and the end that is not yet, if you are going to read the hard words about persecutions and fleeing Judea...it seems important to first soak in the admonition to watch that no one deceives you and see to it that you are not alarmed.  If you don’t read the chapter, but just wander around in the world and listen to the opinions and predictions of others, it seems the right response as well.

In Matthew chapter 24,  there are thirty-five verses describing days of distress before Jesus describes "the Son of Man appearing...." 

and then he says, ( 24:36)  “No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father."      

 NO ONE. 

 I sure don't know, do you?  It sounds as if we are neither expected nor supposed to know about the future, and that is certainly one of the things that I wanted to remind Lily; people telling us when something will happen in the future is not validated by the very book they purport to interpret.

 Jesus does say (verse 42) that one should keep watch.  Pay attention, keep watch. But watch for what?  In Chapter 25, Matthew records Jesus launching right into a series of stories starting with his parable of the wise and foolish virgins. Those women weren’t sent out to watch for or prepare for disaster, they were waiting on a bridegroom. That’s the first example that follows all the hard to read about trouble, a story about having enough oil to have light in your lamp no matter how long you have to wait in the dark for the promised arrival.

I know I’m more than capable of imagining all manner of difficult things that may, but haven’t, happened.  Perhaps I have to fight that tendency because a few hard losses and difficult trials did come my way early in life, but maybe not, maybe it is just how I am; perhaps it’s how many people are?  As I read these familiar stories, I glimpsed the futility of trying to be prepared for woe, except by being faithful day by day and being ultimately prepared for joy.  How many dollars per barrel do the oils of gladness or gratitude go for?  

So going to this storied chapter that I have been exposed to my whole life and read any number of times, with concern for someone else really struggling with fear, was a great reminder for me how important it is to not be distracted by what you think you know.  How easy it is to gloss over the essence of something.  How easy it is to focus on the earthquakes and wars and stars falling from the sky, and miss the admonition to neither be deceived nor alarmed. 

It’s true that there’s plenty of trouble to go around and it isn’t that I don’t believe in being as prepared as able, I do, but preparedness and routine caution is not the same as anxiety. When people make global predictions others’ anxiety is generally what they are preying upon.

If troubles we don’t yet have worry us we are likely to miss the opportunities of today.   The Bible says that there is trouble sufficient unto the day and that there will be troubles, but Jesus is very clear with his disciples that no man knows when specific events will come and then illustrates in three parables, the parable of the 10 virgins, the parable of the talents and the parable of sheep and goats, a ready focus.  The examples are each so straight forward.  Have oil for your lamp so you can be ready with light, be a good steward of all that is entrusted to you, feed and visit the poor, the sick and the imprisoned, and by all means be watchful and ready.

Suffice it to say that I was glad that I didn’t undertake to answer Lily’s request for help “straight off the hip,” rather than use the very book being loosely referenced.  She was quick to respond to my letter about what one could readily glean from these  two chapters and wrote back that she had received “...peace in the eye of the storm.”  

 I had to laugh at the effective way her expressed need had caused me to it sit down and study a bit.  I can always use all the reminders myself.

An art in itself: handmade hand written personal correspondance

I opened a blue box tied with burgundy string.   The storage unit had housed for 5 years many things we could not take with us or sort through before moving for  a new job.  What had I saved?  It must have been something I had put away years before the move itself.

Such funny little cards, made so long ago...I also found a small packet of letters that I wrote to my grandmother.  I won't look at them now.  But I will.  She saved them, then I saved them.

A little box of treasures...worth nothing and everything.   Before the children were making cards and pictures, the box received missives sent to them from loved ones long gone now...dear familiar handwriting sending love to new babies and with little checks enclosed, I am sure.


This last weekend I received beautiful cards...one that traveled across the sea and got here just in time for Mother's Day. Handmade with handpicked flowers from the alps...yes, I got the message.  And another card from the southern boundaries of our land with a thoughtful note and photographs from some of the days memorialized in the old blue box.  What is it that causes us to write the words that say what is  already known?  Shaping and sharing our thoughts and feelings that they may for a time travel and have the weight of matter?   I see how this box came to be; how could I toss these artful little love packets away.

Ephemera only and yet ...

When do you write? In the Morning and the Evening

In the same way that photographers and painters prefer the light of morning and afternoon, I find those to be times I am drawn to writing.  

 In the morning light breaks into the garden and invites close exploration.

I don't take many photographs while I am working...but the monologue is running. 

When evening approaches the horizon calls...day is done.  What have I done with it?  Do I have more energy to focus...

reflections come...accomplishments are reviewed, tired muscles talk, hunger surfaces.  The glory of the day settles as sun and color melt away into night.

   Time needs honoring, or the day's creative opportunities  slip away..

There is morning and evening and the long full day in between them.

Live and Become .. so hard to do in so many places...

What a powerful movie...  full of history we either never hear or forget too quickly...full of feeling for what happens to children as people groups tear at each other...

I watched this tonight and I don't want to spoil the story line.  In 1980 the black Falashas in Ethiopia are recognised as Jews and airlifted secretly from a camp in the Sudan to  Israel. This is the story of a  9-year-old Christian boy  who is put on that plane by his mother to live and become.   


This movie touches on many primal aspects of individual and social becoming. It is about heart for life, it's about loss and overcoming, it's  about family, nations, identity.  It is about purpose and it is about faithfulness in the heart of a child.  It is a French film and it adroitly gives credit to many people of various leanings when they care, take a stand, tell their story, tell the truth or help others.




I think this movie came out in 2005..but I am always behind the times when it comes to movies. 


This is however a movie that I can get behind.  I recommend it highly.


Just the title 


is a lot to think about...

LIVE AND BECOME

it is what we should always want 

for others...yes?

When the movie was over...I saw an article that a friend had posted on her facebook...about a woman in Libya named Eman al-Obeidy


who approached some cloistered foreign journalist in a hotel to tell what abuse she had suffered.


So...may she and the others she was pleading for Live and Become.
~that's my prayer~
~~~

Creative Process Stunned ?

Tumultuous times have a direct impact on my sense of purpose in writing.  There doesn't have to be any actual interruption in my personal daily life...tragedy has such a long arm in our small world.

 I have a drawer full of fiction, chapters that I've put tremendous work and heart into, that I haven't worked on since September 11, 2001.  Fiction seemed a small voice in the  aftermath days, and yet the subjects my characters faced were, albeit set in a different era, the same; clashing beliefs and cultures, losses in war, and love's journey through despair to hope.

 I thought I would eventually pick things up and write on, and I may have, but health threats to my own life, healing time and then a new job that required moving and a new life style continued what I hope is only a hiatus.

While I work full time, and writing has to dance around both the duties and joys of daily life, I have been, in private journals and these two blogs that I have been scribbling, warming up to committing more time and energy to the life I find in writing and the giving to others it represents.

This week I recognized a familiar sense of chill deep inside myself as I watched the news reels of the devastation that shook, flooded and  burned the island country of Japan which now struggles with the specter of possible  nuclear power plant meltdowns.

I cannot dig through the rubble, or fly helicopters.  My heart flies out though and then the creative processes get a busy signal.  Yesterday I did some simple hand work, repairing some small cloth items.  The calming effect was powerful.  I was searching for that insulation that allows all that is to be acknowledged, no ignoring the great external heats of various dangers in the world, while  keeping kindled a proactive awareness  that while it is yet called today, I should do what I can in all the realms that speak purpose to me, despite the multiple dwarfing effects of events across the wide world.  Yes, the axis of the earth has shifted yet again, but we must each keep our footing and press on.

As I sat here, typing up these little thoughts, just outside my window on the path into the forest, I heard a sharp crack and looked out to see a limb crashing down.  It is just a small limb, but it fell perhaps 60 feet with little warning.  One sharp crack and it crashed right where I walk  from one house to the other.  How glad I am that I was taking these few quiet moments to ponder what I allow to deter me from spending more time writing.