haunted by a question

Brother Lawrence once wrote, "The whole substance of religion was faith, hope, and charity. In the practice of these we become united to the will of God."

I didn't know much about Brother Lawrence until last night's small group. I only knew of him as the guy who wrote "Practicing the Presence of God," a saintly man who must have prayed continually. And was tranquil and content. My polar opposite. Anyway, our leader asked us to write down ways we practice hope. Huh?

How do I practice hope?

How do I practice faith?

How do I practice charity?

(ok, I know those are multiple questions, and my subject line only says one, but just bear with me. they're all the same concept really.)

How does a person practice hope? Hope is such an ethereal idea to me. Romans 5. Psalm 42. Those don't totally shed light on the question. Do I practice hope when I pray? Am I hoping in God when I sit for a long time and just be with God? I think Bro. Lawrence would say I'm on the right track. But there's the itchy in my seat, raring to go side to me that just wants to say hope has to be more active than that! And the very word "practice" makes it seem like we do something to practice hope.

How do you practice hope?

the cloud of unknowing

I just finished When the Well Runs Dry: Prayer Beyond the Beginnings by Thomas Green. It felt like a St. John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila for dummies kind of book. He takes the parts of their writings and relates it to our spiritual lives today. He articulates the "dark night of the soul" in a way that made me say, starkly and dumbfoundedly, "that's me." He also writes about the cloud of unknowing, which was written by an Englishman from the 14th century. I created the art above before I had read that chapter, but I think it captures some of what he was talking about. God is both blessing and confusion, a cloud of unknowing. How do we pray to such a God? I thought you could wrestle with me over that question. And I hope the art invites you into that cloud of unknowing.

beauty au naturale

I've been trying to take more pictures lately, especially of beautiful things in nature. Nature calms me like warm tea on a chilly afternoon.

I sat under this tree on an unseasonably warm afternoon in Central Park, New York City. New Yorkers were out in full force, including a group of 6 year olds playing kick ball. I relaxed under that tree and just breathed in the city.





This is a rose from the Huntington Library, a place of peace and depth for me. Do you see the tiny drop in the leaves?



A sunset over the San Jose hills, the view from my apartment building. Some days, I forget that San Jose and northern California is such a beautiful place. (Just ignore those electrical lines!)



My dad just sent me these pictures from home. I went home to New Jersey in October, vainly trying to capture the autumnal leaves. But nature is on its own timeline. These are from mid-November! Next time, I should just go home for Thanksgiving. By the way, this is the house my family has lived in since I was 4!

an unedited poem

darkness touches life
blackening leaves
charring
curling fire
singeing
but He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world
(repeat)
and Light repairs the fragile spidery veins
growing back the leaf, the stem, the tree
until darkness is overwhelmed

last shall be first...

i've never quite understood the fascination with lotteries.

until now.

last night, i entered into a lottery to win front row seats to see wicked in new york city. for $25! that's a $100+ orchestra seat for $25! arrogantly, i thought i had a decent chance to win (although the other 60 people might beg to differ). i have no idea why i thought i was going to win; i just thought, "well, i showed up, i followed my friend's strategy (throw your name in the middle of the pack), and voila! out comes a ticket to sold-out broadway show."

i must admit, once the names started getting called, it was pretty exciting. some people were so casual about it all - "here! yes, that's me." one lady was on the phone and started shouting, "honey, i won! i won!" and really, i liked her from the moment i saw her chasing her toddler around and playing with him vs. scolding him to be quiet. so, i was glad she won.

waiting, waiting, certain my name would be called. after 12 names, i lost. incredulous! inconceivable! what made it so bitter was the very person BEHIND me in line won! and she had already seen it! hrumph! life is unfair.

once i got over the madness of the loss, i realized what an absolute amazing, unheard of thing this is. what kind of art performance gives the best seats in a lottery to last minute show-goers? it's art for the regular people. it's art that you could afford if you saved up a little every week from your paycheck. may i even call it justice, or the last shall be first?

there's something appealing about a system like this, where there is opportunity for everyone.

if only i had won. but i'll be back again.

am i who i think i am?

i had the bizarre experience of having someone rock the boat - my boat, that is. have you ever felt stable and settled, and then all of a sudden, have the glasses and dishes shatter on the floor? it's a very off-kilter but not unwelcome feeling. what if this begins to explain my miniature crisis? praise the Lord if it does. funny how an outsider can just slide the angle and begin to make sense of the chaos.

i keep talking about how there are all these puzzle pieces floating around, dancing above my head. how will they find their fit?

am i who i think i am?

in the now

God is teaching me to be present. It's amazing how easy one can speed off into nostalgia of the past or mental meanderings of the future - one could get stuck in rewind or fast forward with no VCR needed. i'm making friends with the present. and someone who helps me is my mom. she has a knack for enjoying the moment. she's visiting my brother and their expanded family (+1 to their brood). the ever focused educational monster she is, my mom is teaching my niece addition. sidenote: my mom is also exercising her brain by taking counseling classes at a seminary back home. an example of a recent phone conversation:

me: how's it going with hannah?
mom: oh good, i'm teaching her addition.
me: that's cool, mom. is she picking it up?
mom: (chuckling) yes, she's pretty good. but you know what? i sometimes say "addiction" instead of addition.

hope my niece doesn't go to school calling 2+2 "addiction."

pause on a hummingbird

still, i sat. when you interrupted my reverie. flitting. floating.
how do you move quite like that?
buzzing and humming so effortlessly.
who invented you?

origins

my inaugural post. i don't think i have ever described myself as shy, but i feel shy as an artist. this blog is my timid attempt at entering a world of artistry, creativity, verve in the blogosphere. we'll see how it goes. but let me tell you, just creating a template wore me out! i wanted this to be a place for me to muse on life, post photos of pretty things i see, write, create, be. come and be my friend in this endeavor!

addendum to this last post:
i guess i didn't really explain why i started this blog. (i chalk that up to fatigue from choosing a template!) at any rate, i have found that 21st century life, my 21st century life, is not conducive to creativity. i like to check off tasks, be efficient. that doesn't leave much room for lingering. and lingering is needed for creativity, right? this blog is a forum to help me capture some creative essence within me. the inner artist that got sidetracked in second grade when i started having my mom do my art projects ;) yes, that's how i got into stanford.