Mariposa Lily
March 24, 2010
In Our Midst
God of Moses
in burning bush;
great pillars of smoke and fire;
God of justice, compassion, splendor,
jealous for His people's desire.
God of surmounting awe and glory--
hide thyself as He passes by-
face of blinding radiance:
Holy God of power, glory,
Yahweh is nearby.
God of Moses
in our midst--
this is sacred ground;
God Himself come close to hear us--
King of kings, world-renowned.
God of life, the light, our Love,
in the Spirit dwells within us--
servants to daughters and sons.
God of greatest majesty,
transform our hearts, Your chosen ones.
March 21, 2010
Silence, part three
A time of silence, or solitude, is hard to find, and thus a treasure. The idea of it may not sound particularly beautiful--in fact, it may sound (and even feel) uncomfortable. I think it's a good thing anyway, for it is a place to listen to God and exercise trust in Him.
Silence is a place to listen to God.
We see God revealing himself in silence when the prophet Elijah seeks the Lord in order to voice his complaints. Elijah hides behind a rock, and a "great and strong wind" tears the mountains to pieces, "but the Lord was not in the wind." Then there is an earthquake, and a fire, and the Lord is not in these, either.
Both Psalms, read in their entirety (something I would suggest), are a wonderful declaration of trust--a topic I will discuss shortly.
It is often easy to grow frustrated, or complain God is not speaking...perhaps, sometimes, we forget to take time to listen; to quiet our hearts and just be still before Him, resting in His presence.
"Sit down on the bench." I looked at the park bench in the grass and flowers, and I argued. Couldn't I go brush my teeth first? Prepare for class? "Go sit on the bench." Why? Was I supposed to talk to someone passing by after breakfast? "Go sit on the bench." At least let me brush my teeth and come back? (I was a little on the grumpy side, too.) But He was adamant, so I sat. And I waited. I thought maybe there was someone I was supposed to talk to, but everyone passed without even noticing me. And I sat, and waited. Maybe God wanted to talk to me about something, or pray for something. So I waited. I watched the bumblebees as they zoomed among the flowers, and I watched the butterflies floating along calmly, too. And I waited. Now could I go? "Sit on the bench." I must have asked half a dozen times; the answer stayed the same, and I was thoroughly puzzled. So I waited. I let myself enjoy the warm sun and the vivid green of the grass and the busy workings of insects. Finally, He said I could go. I didn't understand; there had been no conversation; no revelation. I shrugged and went about my day.
Doesn't it seem frustrating and pointless at times? Why, God? "Sit on the bench." Only later that day, in the afternoon or evening, did I realize that I had gone about class, the morning, the day,with a completely clear head and fully functioning mind. Gone was the thick, foggy heaviness that made it difficult to think. God doesn't waste anything, much less our time. And sometimes He's just making us exercise obedience and trust, building diligence and habit so we can hear Him next time.
Silence is an exercise in trust. It's uncomfortable sometimes, isn't it? There's not enough time--I'm tired--I have homework--I wanted to talk to so-and-so. There is always so much to do!
In order to pause and be still, we must recognize that God is in control of our lives, not us. He will keep holding the universe together even if I take a break. He will keep the earth spinning on its axis and rotating the earth around the sun without me or even you. Can I then trust Him to my day? Can I stop my runnings-around for a few moments and trust God will not let my world collapse on my shoulders?
In the same passage I quoted earlier, Augustine acknowledges this struggle in his soul.
And in Psalm 62, David tells his soul to wait for God in silence because his hope is from Him; He is his rock and salvation, his fortress (he will not be shaken); His mighty rock, his refuge, is God.
Perhaps you can only manage five minutes a day , and that with much difficulty. I think even this investment will prove to be worth your while if you are consistent.
For this, to me, is the beauty and importance of silence.
Silence is a place to listen to God.
We see God revealing himself in silence when the prophet Elijah seeks the Lord in order to voice his complaints. Elijah hides behind a rock, and a "great and strong wind" tears the mountains to pieces, "but the Lord was not in the wind." Then there is an earthquake, and a fire, and the Lord is not in these, either.
And after the fire the sound of a low whisper. And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" (1 Kings 19:11-13)My Bible has a footnote after "the sound of a low whisper" which reads, "Or a sound, a thin silence. While God has been known to reveal Himself in other ways, sometimes we must wait for the silence. Many of the Psalms speak of being intentionally quiet to wait for the Lord.
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,for my hope is from him.(Psalm 62:5)
"Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!" (Psalm 46:10)
It is often easy to grow frustrated, or complain God is not speaking...perhaps, sometimes, we forget to take time to listen; to quiet our hearts and just be still before Him, resting in His presence.
Do not be vain, my soul. Do not deafen your heart's ear with the tumult of your vanity. Even you have to listen. The Word himself cries to you to return. There is a place of undisturbed quietness where love is not deserted if it does not itself depart. (Augustine, Confessions, xi:16)Sometimes, we become still before God yet do not hear Him speak, or at least nothing we consider meaningful or even profound. But He still blesses us in these moments for the time and trust given to Him. For instance, when I was teaching English at a camp to students in the Czech Republic, there was one morning in which I felt especially tired and groggy; rather as if I were getting a headache. I'd finished breakfast, and had about half an hour until class started, and was heading across the courtyard to my room when a quiet voice came into my head--more like a thought than a voice.
"Sit down on the bench." I looked at the park bench in the grass and flowers, and I argued. Couldn't I go brush my teeth first? Prepare for class? "Go sit on the bench." Why? Was I supposed to talk to someone passing by after breakfast? "Go sit on the bench." At least let me brush my teeth and come back? (I was a little on the grumpy side, too.) But He was adamant, so I sat. And I waited. I thought maybe there was someone I was supposed to talk to, but everyone passed without even noticing me. And I sat, and waited. Maybe God wanted to talk to me about something, or pray for something. So I waited. I watched the bumblebees as they zoomed among the flowers, and I watched the butterflies floating along calmly, too. And I waited. Now could I go? "Sit on the bench." I must have asked half a dozen times; the answer stayed the same, and I was thoroughly puzzled. So I waited. I let myself enjoy the warm sun and the vivid green of the grass and the busy workings of insects. Finally, He said I could go. I didn't understand; there had been no conversation; no revelation. I shrugged and went about my day.
Doesn't it seem frustrating and pointless at times? Why, God? "Sit on the bench." Only later that day, in the afternoon or evening, did I realize that I had gone about class, the morning, the day,with a completely clear head and fully functioning mind. Gone was the thick, foggy heaviness that made it difficult to think. God doesn't waste anything, much less our time. And sometimes He's just making us exercise obedience and trust, building diligence and habit so we can hear Him next time.
Silence is an exercise in trust. It's uncomfortable sometimes, isn't it? There's not enough time--I'm tired--I have homework--I wanted to talk to so-and-so. There is always so much to do!
In order to pause and be still, we must recognize that God is in control of our lives, not us. He will keep holding the universe together even if I take a break. He will keep the earth spinning on its axis and rotating the earth around the sun without me or even you. Can I then trust Him to my day? Can I stop my runnings-around for a few moments and trust God will not let my world collapse on my shoulders?
In the same passage I quoted earlier, Augustine acknowledges this struggle in his soul.
Do not be vain, my soul. Do not deafen your heart's ear with the tumult of your vanity. Even you have to listen. The Word himself cries to you to return. There is a place of undisturbed quietness where love is not deserted if it does not itself depart. See how these things pass away to give place to others, and how the universe in this lower order is constituted out of all its parts. 'Surely I shall never go anywhere else,' says the word of God. Fix your dwelling there. Put in trust there whatever you have from him, my soul, at least now that you are weared of deceptions. Entrust to the truth whatever has come to you from the truth. You will lose nothing. The decayed parts of you will be healed (Matt. 4:23; Ps. 103:3). All that is ebbing away from you will be given fresh form and renewed, bound tightly to you."
There is beauty in pausing from the rush and hurry and quieting oneself before God, realizing He is the source of everything and in Him everything rests, outside our strivings (please read Matthew 6:25-34). There is a deep and wondrous peace, and through this, joy.Trust in him at all times, O people;pour out your heart before him;God is a refuge for us. (verse 8)
Perhaps you can only manage five minutes a day , and that with much difficulty. I think even this investment will prove to be worth your while if you are consistent.
For this, to me, is the beauty and importance of silence.
February 20, 2010
Silence, part two
Silence is hard to find.
Perhaps I speak only for my fellow suburbanites and other urbanites, but we are constantly being bombarded or at least surrounded by noise.
When was the last time you found silence?
When was the last time you rested in silence? --took a long, deep breath and contented yourself just to be?
Silence can be elusive. It is not just auditory noise that constantly shadows us--focal noises such as people talking, music, etc, or peripheral sounds such as the background noises of roads and highways, the babble of people in public places, or even the hum of electricity or the air conditioner. These auditory sounds are definitely prevalent, but they are not the only noise around us.
There is visual noise, too. Loud billboards, signs, bright lights often flashing or changing, colors, clutter, the double-noise of television, glowing computer screens with endless information and pictures and friends and Facebook...all beckoning, calling for your attention. Then, of course, there are people, too, and colors and clothing, faces smiling, stressed, relaying drama or hopes or fears...all looking for someone to listen. Visual noise crowding our sight so it is often difficult to focus attention even on one person, one sign, one object. Even the calm of night is disrupted by the city's need to see and know all things all the time (or so they try): often the sky at my home is a peculiar shade of dark orange. This even late at night, when all things are supposed to be dark, and we ought to see stars.
There is the noise of motion all around. I am in motion; you are in motion; the world is spinning, but we don't have to be...at least not all the time. The highway becomes a roaring blur of vehicles. The sidewalks and shopping malls are full of people interested more in point B than point A, but maybe point C is what you're really looking for...and the same for buses, trains and airplanes. Sometimes it doesn't matter where you're going as long as you're going. Do we think if we keep enough motion with enough speed and constancy, we must create the illusion of a sense of purpose? Or are we moving because the more places we go, the less purpose we find? Do we move because it's so easy that if point A isn't fulfilling, or quite what we wanted, it's simple enough to jump over to point B and give that a try, after which point C just might be a better option? We fill our lives with so many things and appointments and places to go that a certain amount of constant motion is necessary. And if we keep going and don't let ourselves stop, maybe we won't realize that we're getting tired and worn down, like a car wheel in constant use, and if we don't realize it, we won't have to rest.
Resting often feels unnatural; uncomfortable.
We're too used to the hurry.
Maybe sometimes we forget that we were meant to slow down every once in a while...
that it's okay to rest; to take a break...
to breathe.
Maybe.
Now. I'm not saying that noise is inherently wrong. I don't think it is. I believe we were made to enjoy the rich colors and textures of the world, and light, and people. They are good. And sound, too--the ability to communicate through conversation is good, and I think we should be able to appreciate music, and the noises of nature and humankind. Motion, too, has its place. Without motion, we should find it hard to accomplish things or go anywhere.
Motion is necessary.
But I think this noise becomes a distraction--especially when they become constants from which it is difficult to escape. Have you tried to find silence? Have you tried it in the midst of suburbia, or the midst of the city? It's hard. But still important.
Not only is it good to slow down and breathe; relax and renew, but it is vitally important to take time to quiet the soul and rest in God. Oh, yes--time. Time, too, feels elusive, doesn't it? You never have enough; always busy with something, never enough hours in a day, etc, etc. Oh, I know. I know. But all of us have exactly the same amount of time available to us, and believe it or not, you can control the time you're given. Dictate your schedule a bit rather than letting it fully dicate you. This sounds harsh, but I suggest that it is worthwhile--necessary, even, to move your schedule around a bit to set aside time for silence. Time to just be.
Isn't "quiet time" enough? A few minutes with God snatched here and there? Yes and no, I think. The problem is, many of us (I, too, am guilty) try to organize and manage time with God the way we try to manage our homework, classes, appointments and meetings. Not always. But sometimes. It's also easy to get impatient, thinking about all the things I have to do. "Sorry, God; I have too much homework. Only ten minutes today." Sometimes I even deny Him those ten paltry minutes.
I have let the things of the world become distractions which clutter my mind, and I mix up my priorities. Since when is homework more important than God? Since when is my social life more important than God? They are important, no doubt, but God existed long, long before any of these material things did, and He will exist far beyond them. It is in God, not homework, that I "live and move and have [my] being." (Acts 18:28) It is God who created me, and did so for a specific purpose. Thus, my reason for living should be purely Him, not homework or friends. And it is He who determines my life, that I should live from one day to the next, and how I shall live those days. And when this world fades, He is the One who will remain forever. Anything else that remains will do so solely in Him.
My priorities get so distressingly skewed.
God is worth the time set aside for Him.
I can only pray for strength to set aside this time for, by myself, I can do nothing.
Again, God is worth the time set aside for Him.
In my next post, I will focus more on beauty of silence specifically.
Perhaps I speak only for my fellow suburbanites and other urbanites, but we are constantly being bombarded or at least surrounded by noise.
When was the last time you found silence?
When was the last time you rested in silence? --took a long, deep breath and contented yourself just to be?
Silence can be elusive. It is not just auditory noise that constantly shadows us--focal noises such as people talking, music, etc, or peripheral sounds such as the background noises of roads and highways, the babble of people in public places, or even the hum of electricity or the air conditioner. These auditory sounds are definitely prevalent, but they are not the only noise around us.
There is visual noise, too. Loud billboards, signs, bright lights often flashing or changing, colors, clutter, the double-noise of television, glowing computer screens with endless information and pictures and friends and Facebook...all beckoning, calling for your attention. Then, of course, there are people, too, and colors and clothing, faces smiling, stressed, relaying drama or hopes or fears...all looking for someone to listen. Visual noise crowding our sight so it is often difficult to focus attention even on one person, one sign, one object. Even the calm of night is disrupted by the city's need to see and know all things all the time (or so they try): often the sky at my home is a peculiar shade of dark orange. This even late at night, when all things are supposed to be dark, and we ought to see stars.
There is the noise of motion all around. I am in motion; you are in motion; the world is spinning, but we don't have to be...at least not all the time. The highway becomes a roaring blur of vehicles. The sidewalks and shopping malls are full of people interested more in point B than point A, but maybe point C is what you're really looking for...and the same for buses, trains and airplanes. Sometimes it doesn't matter where you're going as long as you're going. Do we think if we keep enough motion with enough speed and constancy, we must create the illusion of a sense of purpose? Or are we moving because the more places we go, the less purpose we find? Do we move because it's so easy that if point A isn't fulfilling, or quite what we wanted, it's simple enough to jump over to point B and give that a try, after which point C just might be a better option? We fill our lives with so many things and appointments and places to go that a certain amount of constant motion is necessary. And if we keep going and don't let ourselves stop, maybe we won't realize that we're getting tired and worn down, like a car wheel in constant use, and if we don't realize it, we won't have to rest.
Resting often feels unnatural; uncomfortable.
We're too used to the hurry.
Maybe sometimes we forget that we were meant to slow down every once in a while...
that it's okay to rest; to take a break...
to breathe.
Maybe.
Now. I'm not saying that noise is inherently wrong. I don't think it is. I believe we were made to enjoy the rich colors and textures of the world, and light, and people. They are good. And sound, too--the ability to communicate through conversation is good, and I think we should be able to appreciate music, and the noises of nature and humankind. Motion, too, has its place. Without motion, we should find it hard to accomplish things or go anywhere.
Motion is necessary.
But I think this noise becomes a distraction--especially when they become constants from which it is difficult to escape. Have you tried to find silence? Have you tried it in the midst of suburbia, or the midst of the city? It's hard. But still important.
Not only is it good to slow down and breathe; relax and renew, but it is vitally important to take time to quiet the soul and rest in God. Oh, yes--time. Time, too, feels elusive, doesn't it? You never have enough; always busy with something, never enough hours in a day, etc, etc. Oh, I know. I know. But all of us have exactly the same amount of time available to us, and believe it or not, you can control the time you're given. Dictate your schedule a bit rather than letting it fully dicate you. This sounds harsh, but I suggest that it is worthwhile--necessary, even, to move your schedule around a bit to set aside time for silence. Time to just be.
Isn't "quiet time" enough? A few minutes with God snatched here and there? Yes and no, I think. The problem is, many of us (I, too, am guilty) try to organize and manage time with God the way we try to manage our homework, classes, appointments and meetings. Not always. But sometimes. It's also easy to get impatient, thinking about all the things I have to do. "Sorry, God; I have too much homework. Only ten minutes today." Sometimes I even deny Him those ten paltry minutes.
I have let the things of the world become distractions which clutter my mind, and I mix up my priorities. Since when is homework more important than God? Since when is my social life more important than God? They are important, no doubt, but God existed long, long before any of these material things did, and He will exist far beyond them. It is in God, not homework, that I "live and move and have [my] being." (Acts 18:28) It is God who created me, and did so for a specific purpose. Thus, my reason for living should be purely Him, not homework or friends. And it is He who determines my life, that I should live from one day to the next, and how I shall live those days. And when this world fades, He is the One who will remain forever. Anything else that remains will do so solely in Him.
My priorities get so distressingly skewed.
God is worth the time set aside for Him.
I can only pray for strength to set aside this time for, by myself, I can do nothing.
Again, God is worth the time set aside for Him.
In my next post, I will focus more on beauty of silence specifically.
January 31, 2010
Silence, part one
I wrote this last March in the midst of busy schedule, and have been thinking once more about the need for silence. The format is a little goofy, but I had fun with it ;).
Now
When the world spins wildly, madly
as it is apt to do,
and your whirling mind and whirling days
are full of books to meet and people to read
decisions to end and highways to travel
pages to fill and battles to endure
strength to find and lose and hope to keep
and worries and fears and responsibilities and
expectations, anticipations, conversations--
take this handful of minutes
being now (even if
every now you see is
full) take these shining silver minutes
to soak in
the silence
to savor
the silence
the silence that is the
drumming patter of rain on the windows and roof
the murmurings and talkings of people in other rooms
the motor-noises of busy people speeding on nearby streets
the whispering shuddering moaning of a lonely wind
the dim buzzing of lights the thin invisible wire of high-frequency electricity
the nearly forgotten slow steady pumping and beating of your not unimportant heart
quiet
noises blending into
your silence
rest in this silence
let your mind slow
to match its pace
to understand
to see and discover and digest
to wrap around this quiet
take the handful of pebbles
being minutes
take only the handful in now
and wrap yourself
temporarily
in some still
quiet form
of silence
.
Now
When the world spins wildly, madly
as it is apt to do,
and your whirling mind and whirling days
are full of books to meet and people to read
decisions to end and highways to travel
pages to fill and battles to endure
strength to find and lose and hope to keep
and worries and fears and responsibilities and
expectations, anticipations, conversations--
take this handful of minutes
being now (even if
every now you see is
full) take these shining silver minutes
to soak in
the silence
to savor
the silence
the silence that is the
drumming patter of rain on the windows and roof
the murmurings and talkings of people in other rooms
the motor-noises of busy people speeding on nearby streets
the whispering shuddering moaning of a lonely wind
the dim buzzing of lights the thin invisible wire of high-frequency electricity
the nearly forgotten slow steady pumping and beating of your not unimportant heart
quiet
noises blending into
your silence
rest in this silence
let your mind slow
to match its pace
to understand
to see and discover and digest
to wrap around this quiet
take the handful of pebbles
being minutes
take only the handful in now
and wrap yourself
temporarily
in some still
quiet form
of silence
.
January 28, 2010
Haiku, oddly enough, and mercy
I say "oddly enough" because I don't really write haikus. I've probably written one once before in my life when I learned about the form in school. But the other night I had a poem in my head, and this is how it came out:
After time and rain
had defiled pure, clean white,
You sent us fresh snow.
At the time, I wrote it merely because that was precisely what was happening, and the image was in my head. A lot of poems start that way.
However, it dawned on me just now that perhaps this simple picture of new snow after the old stuff had all but melted away, and what was left muddy, trampled and altogether nasty, that He does the same in us. In me. Of course, as a comparison this little sketch falls short on a multitude of levels, but truly He makes His mercies new in us "every morning" after we've soiled ourselves once more with the impurities and imperfections of sin.
I find this reassuring, especially as the past few days I've struggled with feeling acutely these same impurities and imperfections in myself in relation to God, and feeling like I must be so small in His sight. It is a battle: I yearn and thirst for Him, but see my own selfish unworthiness. And while I think it's good to recognize my sin and seek God's forgiveness, there's a point at which I can't let it get in the way anymore. Perhaps the enemy tries to use this healthy sense of sin to say, "See how dirty you are? He's so holy and pure--He can't possibly be near to you right now. You say you only think about yourself? Why, that isn't godly at all--God must be so distant from you!" Maybe. At any rate, this heaviness has fueled my desperation to be filled by my Lord, and draw nearer to Him. But until now, I haven't felt complete resolution. Oh, I know God looks and sees Jesus' purity when He looks at me, because that is the basis of my faith. But the past few days, it was something I only knew in my head. I had forgotten it in my heart.
I am reminded of a song my dad used to sing to me at bedtime. Here tonight I find my resolution, and the reminder of God's infinite love. The lyrics come directly from Lamentations 3.22-23:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning,
new every morning;
great is your faithfulness, O Lord,
great is your faithfulness.
January 23, 2010
Plans, part one
I held out my hands to Him.
"Look," I smiled eagerly, "Look what I have here!
Remember all the old dreams and hopes?
I've turned them into plans for the future:
see how nicely I've laid them out,
and ordered them?
See how they fit together?"
And I stretched my hands out to Him
so He could see, and admire my handiwork.
"You gave me the dreams, I think--
Do you remember? Long, long ago...
but see what I have done with them?"
And He nodded,
but His smile looked a little sad
around the eyes.
"Yes.... Yes, I see. I remember the dreams
(I don't forget). They gave you hope,
and brought color to your days.
I have plans, too--
marvelous intricate plans for your future,
full of vivid life and hope."
His eyes were full, brimming with joy
and anticipation.
But His hands were cupped,
and I couldn't see inside.
I stood on my tiptoes and tried to peek.
"That sounds exciting--
can I see?"
But He pulled His hands away gently.
"No, not yet."
They're a surprise;
you'll see one step at a time--"
He lowered his voice conspiratorily--
"sometimes two, if I decide you should know.
It will be an adventure."
I pulled away, disconcerted
but torn by His clear excitement
and promises He offered.
"I like the sound of that.
Couldn't I just see a few
at random?
You know, for an idea of what's ahead?"
"No. Not yet.
You aren't ready for them."
"I...I don't know."
I couldn't look at Him.
I tightened my fingers' grasp
and backed away slowly,
eyes turned down toward my arms full of plans,
and I could see all of them,
and they looked good to me.
"This is what I want," I whispered,
holding them in my fist, and glancing at him apprehensively.
I ignored the quiet, nagging thought as I walked away
that His plans were probably better.
I pushed it down, telling it
maybe His were better,
but I could see mine,
and I liked them, anyway.
"Look," I smiled eagerly, "Look what I have here!
Remember all the old dreams and hopes?
I've turned them into plans for the future:
see how nicely I've laid them out,
and ordered them?
See how they fit together?"
And I stretched my hands out to Him
so He could see, and admire my handiwork.
"You gave me the dreams, I think--
Do you remember? Long, long ago...
but see what I have done with them?"
And He nodded,
but His smile looked a little sad
around the eyes.
"Yes.... Yes, I see. I remember the dreams
(I don't forget). They gave you hope,
and brought color to your days.
I have plans, too--
marvelous intricate plans for your future,
full of vivid life and hope."
His eyes were full, brimming with joy
and anticipation.
But His hands were cupped,
and I couldn't see inside.
I stood on my tiptoes and tried to peek.
"That sounds exciting--
can I see?"
But He pulled His hands away gently.
"No, not yet."
They're a surprise;
you'll see one step at a time--"
He lowered his voice conspiratorily--
"sometimes two, if I decide you should know.
It will be an adventure."
I pulled away, disconcerted
but torn by His clear excitement
and promises He offered.
"I like the sound of that.
Couldn't I just see a few
at random?
You know, for an idea of what's ahead?"
"No. Not yet.
You aren't ready for them."
"I...I don't know."
I couldn't look at Him.
I tightened my fingers' grasp
and backed away slowly,
eyes turned down toward my arms full of plans,
and I could see all of them,
and they looked good to me.
"This is what I want," I whispered,
holding them in my fist, and glancing at him apprehensively.
I ignored the quiet, nagging thought as I walked away
that His plans were probably better.
I pushed it down, telling it
maybe His were better,
but I could see mine,
and I liked them, anyway.
January 22, 2010
Cosmos in Chaos
For one of my classes I had to peruse a few books and come up with ideas and answers to the question, "what is art?" I ended up pulling out one of my favorite books: Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle. She discusses in length what art is, but I am particularly struck by her first and primary definition. "Art is cosmos found within chaos."
The word cosmos today typically conjures up vague images of stars and galaxies...something about the universe, or outer space. But in this sense it means a lot more. The dictionary defines cosmos as order and harmony. In the larger sense, it also can mean a complete, harmonious and orderly system--that's where we get the meaning in relation to the universe. L'Engle says that art, this sense of harmony and order in the midst of chaos, affirms meaning in a world that doesn't know right from wrong and therefore has no meaning. It is communication. It is a vehicle of truth, and it seeks to make sense of the confusions and complications of life.
The idea of seeing cosmos in chaos greatly appeals to me--it's something I try to seek in little bits here and there throughout my own everyday life. Sometimes I forget. But occasionally, when I remember keep my eyes open, I write about the glimpses of beauty I catch. And that's part of the reason I decided to start a blog.
It was a thought I had several weeks ago. I liked the idea, but wasn't sure I'd have enough time to keep up a blog, what with school and work and maintaining some form of a social life. Clearly, this post is proof that I decided to try and see what happens.
And when I asked myself the question "why blog?", I came to the conclusion that I want it to be a place where you might find some meaning in the mundane, a bit of beauty in everyday life, and help you remember there is cosmos in chaos.
The word cosmos today typically conjures up vague images of stars and galaxies...something about the universe, or outer space. But in this sense it means a lot more. The dictionary defines cosmos as order and harmony. In the larger sense, it also can mean a complete, harmonious and orderly system--that's where we get the meaning in relation to the universe. L'Engle says that art, this sense of harmony and order in the midst of chaos, affirms meaning in a world that doesn't know right from wrong and therefore has no meaning. It is communication. It is a vehicle of truth, and it seeks to make sense of the confusions and complications of life.
The idea of seeing cosmos in chaos greatly appeals to me--it's something I try to seek in little bits here and there throughout my own everyday life. Sometimes I forget. But occasionally, when I remember keep my eyes open, I write about the glimpses of beauty I catch. And that's part of the reason I decided to start a blog.
It was a thought I had several weeks ago. I liked the idea, but wasn't sure I'd have enough time to keep up a blog, what with school and work and maintaining some form of a social life. Clearly, this post is proof that I decided to try and see what happens.
And when I asked myself the question "why blog?", I came to the conclusion that I want it to be a place where you might find some meaning in the mundane, a bit of beauty in everyday life, and help you remember there is cosmos in chaos.
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