Celebration: Vulnerability

Part of me likes to be bossed. That part of me feels like there are too many opportunities for making mistakes, embarrassing myself, setting myself up for rejection, doing the wrong thing, etc., and that part of me appreciates it when there are rules it can follow to avoid those discomforts. That part of me speaks in the language of "shoulds" and "should nots." That part of me is just a little, tiny part of me, but it's loud and pushy. It uses rules to build up emotional walls around me and calls it "protection." It enjoys keeping parts of me secret behind those walls, hiding.

The problem with living in a world of "shoulds" and "should nots" is that real life is much more fluid. Human interaction is not simply a series of rules. And rules don't give much room for things like emotions, inspiration, courage, or love.

I've tried to break my obsession with rules by focusing on trusting people, but really trusting someone requires that you feel they are trustworthy. It is too focused on their actions and feelings, which you cannot control. A couple weeks ago I realized that for me, at least, trust was not the issue. What I needed to do was become the boss of me instead of letting myself be bossed. And the real issue was vulnerability.

I think most people don't like feeling vulnerable, but if you choose to be vulnerable you're the one in control. In the last couple weeks I've found that when I choose to be vulnerable from moment to moment life feels more rich, more exciting, and more real. And when I make mistakes, embarrass myself, feel rejected I can say to myself, "I knew it was a possibility but I chose to take the risk," and I end up feeling kind of proud of myself. I even get a sort of rush. I guess you could say that choosing to be vulnerable is a little like doing extreme sports.

I've also noticed that when I'm choosing to be more vulnerable I feel a lot more compassion and charity for everyone else around me. It makes sense. The apostle Paul wrote, "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." Vulnerability requires faith and hope, and it helps develop charity. I think that calls for a celebration, don't you?

Celebration - Real Stories

(This is a quick little drawing of a shuttle - I thought I should explain what it is in case it's not obvious.)

This semester I am helping in various ways on the creative writing graduate school journal. It is a national journal (we're looking for entries, by the way - let me know if you're interested) and we get submissions from all over the states (and even from Europe). It's interesting to see what kind of stories other people imagine up. But I find the biographies of the authors the most fascinating. Here are a few that caught my eye recently (I've taken out some information to avoid giving identity clues):

[A Manly Name], the author of this short story, has earned his daily bread as fire fighter, gold miner, house painter, occupations from which he has drawn much of his material as a writer.

A graduate of the [an academy] with a Ph.D. in physics, I have worked as a jet fighter pilot for the United state Air Force, a rocket propulsion expert for NASA, and a private flight instructor...When not flying or studying aviation, I enjoy painting and dancing the tango.

Born and raised in Leningrad, USSR, I immigrated to the US as a Jewish refugee...I was trained to be a concert pianist, but my career in music ended with a hand trauma soon after the move. I have a master's degree in theological studies from [a prestigious university], and I teach religious studies and philosophy while working on my doctoral thesis. In addition to my academic career, I work as a medical interpreter for patients with limited English skills...

People are so interesting.

Celebration - Haircuts as an Outlet for Boredom

Celebration: Wired

This is not a post celebrating the emotional state of an 11 year old hyped up on 5 pounds of candy the night of Halloween or of a grad school student the morning after an all-nighter survived only through the assistance of a caffeine overload. The post is published here in celebration of a magazine I just barely discovered (it was suggested reading material in an email sent out by the professor of a class I begin tomorrow - whoa! She's already teaching me something!) called Wired.

I know, I know. Everyone in the world has already heard of this magazine, except for me. I mentioned it to my husband and he waved his hands around and nodded his head, as if to say, "Yeah, yeah! Heard of that before." I eagerly approached my journalist majoring sister about it over gchat and her response indicated to me that OF COURSE she'd heard of it. I could picture her using her parched fingers (she lives in Utah - so I'm guessing her fingers are dry) to brush her coolness off her shoulder. But I have never heard of this magazine before and I'm so pleased by it that I'm not even embarrassed to admit I wasn't "In The Know" on this one.

This is my plug for Wired: It's FUN.

Here is my favorite article so far (apparently this is the sort they're well-known for?): The Smart List

Celebration - Red

I just started a new journal. Having a red journal motivates me to write more. Writing more makes me happy.

I finished the red necklace this week. I made it for a friend who doesn't have a lot of jewelry. She got REALLY excited and it made me glad that I didn't keep it like Jordan said I should. (That was just Jordan trying to make me feel like it was a really awesome necklace.)

This week red has made me really happy. Here are some thoughts about the color red:

Red is bold.

Red is a statement.

Red is festive (Think about it: Christmas AND Valentines AND the 4th of July.)

Red, I have noticed, looks good on most people.

Red is both sexy and exotic.

I'm really glad red exists.

Things that are red that I am also glad exist: blood, rubber balls, some porsches, lips, apples, the stripes on the American flag, double decker buses, strawberries, the hat I just made, Christmas stockings, my favorite nail polish, Clifford, stop signs, and so much more.

Celebration: End of First Graduate Semester

I have finally finished my first graduate semester.

I took my last final at home on my bed.

What you can't see (it's hiding behind the wheat thins)

is the bowl full of brownie crumbs.

That brownie kept me going.

Celebration: The Basillica to the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

Last Friday night Jordan and I went to The Basillica to the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

to see their Christmas Concert. I had seen the Basillica from the freeway before, rising up out of the surrounding houses and calling to us with promises of interesting architecture, colorful murals, and ethereal acoustics.

The concert proved all you could wish from a Christmas event held in a basillica. They had a choir and an orchestra. They performed mostly songs I did not recognize but that had beautiful, dynamic arrangements. With the acoustics as ethereal as I had hoped, the music vibrated in our bones.

The ceiling murals were fascinating as well. I couldn't stop myself from staring up at them during the performance, which was the intented reaction, I believe. Some of the murals were a little over the top but in their extravagance they were so imaginative that I had to like them.

An acquaintance calls this the Scary Jesus. (He certainly looks very determined.)

But let's turn off those thoughts for a minute and just appreciate the creativity and craft

that went into it. The paint behind Jesus' head is sparkling, luscious gold.

Much like the gold on the entranceway ceilng. I would really love a dress made out of something that

looks like this.

The photograph does not satisfyingly convey the full, awe-inspiring effect

this ceiling mural has when you're standing directly under it,

straining to tilt your head back far enough

to allow for a full view.

This one may seem a bit garrish but LOOK at it. It's so imaginative.

And there's so much movement. It's hard not to just stare, and stare, and stare. This is the one we sat directly under during the concert.