art | chatting at the sky

we don’t want your obligation

February 15, 2012

There is a covert bully who has launched a full-out attack on you. You don’t notice him because he disguises his voice with one that sounds like your mother, your friends, your co-workers, you. He pushes you around in guilt and fear and you listen like a robot, doing things you don’t want to do.

The bully is Should, and it’s time to slay him dead.

How many hours have you wasted worrying about things you should be doing? How many harsh words have you spoken, not against injustice, but because you were frustrated over not living up to an expectation? Do you really want to color-code your closets or do you just think you should? Did you really want to hand-make those Valentine’s cards? Do you really want to cook a five-course meal for your in-laws? Do you really want to finish those baby books? Do you really want to clean the grout with a toothbrush?

Does this mean we don’t have to clean our house? Go to the dentist? Grocery shop? Are we being selfish if we think about what we truly desire? We have learned that being a grown up is simply learning how to be okay with shoulding on ourselves. When we were kids we naturally knew how to follow desire but now that we’re grown, we have learned to fill our days with responsibilities that we don’t like. But that’s life! you say.

Really? Because the Bible says life is Jesus.

And Jesus, who is life, says this about life: I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

So what about the illness of loved ones, the disabilites of our children, the disparity in the world? There are so many difficult situations and heartache in the world around us, people who need our hands, our commitments, our love. So why do we insist on killing desire slowly by volunteering for committees we care nothing about?

Save the passion for the people. Save the serious for the things that truly move you. Sit heavy on your hands and raise them only for those things you can’t not step up for.

Duty is much more efficient. It is linear, easy to make a case for, quick to convince. Desire takes risk, time, discovery, curiosity. There is no formula, no proven results, no guarantees. Desire is desperately inefficient. And so is love.

You are loved. You have been given love. Love lives in you. Instead of listening to Should, let love move you with grace and intention into the world. As Thomas Hart says in Art of Christian Listening, “Wants are mine; shoulds are somebody else’s.” Care enough for the people in your life to choose those things that make you come alive. Take time to figure them out. Let the Lord speak. Let your heart speak. Let your life speak.

What would happen if we were brave enough to listen to our own desire? What if it was God’s idea from the very beginning to give you particular desires for particular things to fill a particular purpose? What if ignoring the voice of your desire is actually ignoring the voice of God?

Tagged art, faith Filed Under art, faith 67 Comments

what to do with crazy ideas

February 13, 2012

“To me this award means a lot because it shows that the human element of making music is what’s most important. It’s not about being perfect, it’s not about sounding absolutely correct, it’s not about what goes on in the computer. It’s about what goes on in [your head] and what goes on in [your heart].”

- Dave Grohl, after Foo Fighters won a Grammy for Best Rock Performance

Well, that’s easy to say while you’re holding a Grammy. Still, he’s right. With the exception of Adele, nobody performed perfectly at the Grammys last night. Perfect wasn’t what got them there. But there they were, in all their imperfect glory, at the Grammys. Performing. I watched the red carpet pre-show, too. (I have a cold. The Man took the kids to dinner. I was alone and in control of the remote). On the red carpet, an interviewer asked someone (The Civil Wars maybe? The faces are fuzzy. Gracious, I could never be a journalist) what their secret is. Their answer? We just keep chasing our craziest ideas.

Crazy ideas don’t always mean a ticket to the Grammys. But maybe tickets to the Grammys only come to those who first chased a crazy idea. Same goes for the Oscar winner, the moon-walker, the airplane-flier, the actor president, the single mom with a little book about a boy wizard named Harry. And then there was the pregnant virgin, the shepherd king, the baby Savior, the clear water turning merlot red while the guests laughed and danced into the night.

And then there is you. What is your moon, your airplane, your boy-wizard book? What is your brave lyric, your odd first chapter, your new business motto? What is your crazy idea? No, not your perfect idea. Not your logical, well-planned, power-pointed practical idea. There’s a place for those, too. But lots of times the most logical ideas start out crazy. What is your crazy idea and what should you do with it?

Maybe you should chase it.

Tagged art Filed Under art, faith 69 Comments

making the most of creative time

February 8, 2012

You run from school to store to post office and finally back again. And when you get home, you realize you finally have hours to yourself. Hours. This does not happen often. There are many things you could do, many task-y important-ish things. But you long for more, to touch the invisible face of inspiration in some new and different way you haven’t quite been able to yet. You want to make the beautiful.

So here you are, Time finally looking happily your way, stretching out next to you with his hands tucked lazy behind his head. And you watch as he turns his face up to the sky, eyes closed to the warm sun, and asks what you’ll do with all of his present attention. You’re so baffled that he’s come, so amazed that you actually have the time to do something that all you can do is sit next to him in wonder.

Those of us who have been creating for any amount of time have read the books and know the ropes on how to maximize our environments for creativity. If you want to create something new, don’t check your incoming while you’re trying to do it. (shut off email, Facebook, twitter and the like.) Don’t try to be an editor and a creator at the same time. Refuse to be your own interruption. Fight the resistance. Quiet the inner critics. Write like a mad woman.

But what about when you do all these things, you’ve set the environment up just right, and still you are met with an impenetrable wall of discouragement? Yesterday I was sure my creative days were over and any chance of me ever having anything worth saying again was not only lost but killed flat dead on the ground, limp and lifeless and puny. You know how that goes. When you long for time to write or create, you have exactly 47 billion things to say. And then when the time finally comes, you sit and push out all distractions and you got…nothing. Again, it isn’t that I didn’t have any work to do. I have plenty. But my galleys for book number two won’t arrive until next week and a few other things I have going are at a stopping place for now.

There is so much talk of productivity, of focus and make your art! and don’t waste time! There is pressure, and not a small dose of it, to take the time you have been given and make the most of it. Or find the time you don’t have and beat it into submission. I have done this. I know how to boss time around. I know how to do the work.

But maybe it isn’t a bad thing to let yourself lay back on the wide green earth with Time by your side, stare up at the same bright sky, and let yourself be. There is every temptation to strangle him into productivity and make him work for you since you have so much of him right there. But some days he doesn’t bend easily. You might do well to relax and give up the fight. And to reconsider what make the most of it means anyway.

Tagged art, writing Filed Under a writer, art 32 Comments

when the critic speaks

February 3, 2012

There is a critical voice that speaks to you, maybe even right now. You may not notice because you’re so used to it, but most of us can pin it down if we pay attention. Sometimes it’s a voice that sounds eerily like our own. Other times we are blessed to have our critics speak out loud and in our face. Oh look, she’s being sarcastic – said those of us with critics are blessed. No sarcasm here, friend. Because something happens when the critic speaks up, something that perhaps can’t happen any other way.

When the critic speaks — dismissing our art, narrowing eyes at our carefully thought-through choices, misunderstanding our intent — he reminds us of all the reasons we were afraid to move in the first place. And for a bit, we are paralyzed by the fear of ever moving again. One wrong move, and they could start pointing.

It isn’t a thicker skin that I need. Don’t paint me word pictures of wet-backed ducks, water rolling off feathers. Don’t give me a lecture on sticks and stones. The words of the critic sting. And I want them to sting because the sting means I am alive, human, frail. I used to wish I were made stronger, tougher, more naturally resilient. But the critical voice is teaching me my humanness, and that is not a bad thing.

In fact (oh, the hilariousness of this!) the more I confess my frail humanity, the louder I hear the sound of another voice rising up in me, one that has some weight behind it. It is the voice of Hope, and I know it’s Jesus but sometimes I make Hope a girl because she just feels feminine to me. And she speaks with courage and a bit of a laugh. Because when those things we most fear will happen actually happen, we have a unique window of opportunity to take inventory of the battle field in the aftermath. And we look around, blink our eyes, listen to the quiet and think to ourselves, I am not dead. That did not kill me after all.

How could it? If I say I’m a believer (and I am) and if I believe the Bible is true (and I do), then I have already died to that old life, the one that gropes and clings to assurance and acceptance the world has to offer. And so if I have died with Christ and been raised to life in Him, how can I die again at the hands of the critic? What have I to fear if death is no longer a risk?

The critic carries gifts he never meant to bring, motivation he has no awareness of. The voice of the critic forces us to face our biggest fears, and in so doing, listen for the voice of God. If we dare to believe Him, if we dare to believe His dying and rising back up apply even in this, we can then be oddly, ironically, deliriously free.

“And since we died with Christ, we know we will also live with him. We are sure of this because Christ was raised from the dead, and he will never die again. Death no longer has any power over him.”

Romans 6:8-9, NLT

Tagged art Filed Under a writer, art, faith 47 Comments

the eternal struggle in the artist’s mind

January 11, 2012

For the days when you want to push a button and have your kitchen self-clean, want to walk out the front door and not stop until you hit water, want to curl up in a ball on the couch with a heated blanket, a bowl of ice cream, and a ten-high stack of your favorite fiction books – know that you are not alone.

For the days when you are so inspired by your art that you see sparks, when tears come just because this life is a miracle, when you see the beauty in the mundane and ridiculous – know that we need your perspective. And tomorrow, so will you. Write it down.

For the days when you want to throw your laptop in the trash, want to put your art in a safe place, want to hide under a cloak of invisibility and hope no one notices – know that you have the freedom to hide if you want. But is that really what you want?

For the days when you desperately need a break, when you want silence more than chocolate or sleep, when your soul flails about inside you for a breath – take one. Breathe deep the mystery of Christ, receive his favor of you, be loved.

There is a difference between hiding and resting. When we hide, we are afraid. When we rest, we are wise. It can take time to figure out which one is at work. But once we notice the signs, we’ll know for next time.

It was a pleasure to read your comments yesterday. Out of the many who spoke up, not one person said, No, I am not an artist, I don’t want to be considered an artist, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Pass me a calculator. Maybe it’s just because of the type of people this blog attracts, or maybe those who feel that way simply don’t speak up. Or maybe we’re on to something.

Maybe we know that when we were woven together, He wove art into our beings. He made hands that want to shape both clay and hearts, eyes that long to see beauty even in the midst of chaos, spirits that long for eternity with such desperation that we will stay up way too long and get up way too early just to try to turn a phrase or write a lyric that will capture the smallest glimpse of heaven. We are made with intention, purpose, heart. O Lord, may we receive your making of us so that we may make art with our lives in response.

If you simply haven’t heard me talk enough (and surely you are tired of my voice by now), today is the third and final interview with Bob and Audrey on My New Day in Winnipeg. Our Canadian friends can watch on their TVs later today and the rest of you can watch all three interviews online. They may only be available for a limited time. I’m just glad my high school girls helped me pick out my clothes. Hallelujah and Amen. PS. I’m sure I used that apostrophe wrong in the title. Tell me I didn’t. Amen again.

Tagged art Filed Under art, inspired 41 Comments

are you an artist?

January 10, 2012

For a year now, I’ve been watching people. I watch them at restaurants, movie theaters, church, and TJ Maxx. I watch them on TV, at the bank, on the street, at the airport. I think about God, how it says in 2 Chronicles that his eyes range to and fro throughout the whole earth in search of those whose hearts are fully committed. I’m searching for something else, but my eyes feel to and fro-ish while I do it. I can’t help it. I’m looking for artists.

It’s a hot topic, art. Last year Annie declared 2011 as a year that we will make art. Well, she declared it to me, in an email. And we did make art, yes we did. And I was challenged with what that actually meant, making art. I found myself clumping the painting type in with the living type and sometimes that was uncomfortable, though I couldn’t place why. Now I’m distracted with curiosity.

Everyone has their definitions but if you believe them all, I fear this art begins to lose all meaning. Most of them draw a clear line between artists (writers, singers, painters, dancers) and non-artists (mathemeticians, bankers, scientists, administrators, politicians). Then there is another group of people who find themselves between the artist they either used to or want to be, and the life they have now as a mother, a temp worker, a daycare owner, a student.

I realize a lot of people don’t consider themselves artists and have no desire to do so. But then there are a whole ‘nother group of people who long to identify themselves as artists but are terrified to do so. And in the midst of all this, I sit with my question – why is this three letter word so mysterious? All people are creative. But are all people artists? Is it important to make that distinction or not?

At the yogurt shop this weekend, I sat next to my kids on an unusually warm January Saturday. As I ate my vanilla yogurt with strawberries on top (and also oreos who am I kidding?) I watched a woman with a pink apron on zip around the shop like she had a jet pack on her back. She wiped the counters, changed out the sprinkles, chatted with the customers. She was pleasant, lighthearted, intentional. “She works like she owns the place,” The Man said to me.

I thought the same thing but with different words. She worked like an artist. She was motivated beyond what we could see, doing more than what was required. She seemed to fit there. Art isn’t so much the things we do but the way in which we do them. May I ask you? If you consider yourself an artist, tell us why. And if you don’t, tell us why not.

Tagged art Filed Under art 71 Comments

10 Favorite Blog Posts of 2011

December 27, 2011

While my family and I are gallivanting around this week, I want to share with you my own personal picks for the 10 Favorite Blog Posts of 2011. (When you capitalize things, it makes them Super Official). I have nothing to offer these 10, no award or certificate or badge or banner. But great writing deserves some attention. All of these posts have moved me, some even months after I read them. Of the many lovely and soulful posts I’ve read this year, here are 10 that seem to have lingered for various reasons (listed in no particular order).

Unstyled Life by Jules at Pancakes and French Fries:: Having just recently watched my family sort through the many collections of everything from manilla envelopes to Waffle House pins that make up the remnants of my father-in-law’s earthly possessions, this post struck a chord somewhere down deep. She writes beautifully and I am left standing right next to her, shaking my head. For anyone considering the purpose of all our stuff, this post is a must read.

Please Don’t Miss It by Sara Frankl at (in)courage :: She wrote this on her birthday, the last birthday she had on earth. She wrote to us, begging us to see, to open up, to live fully. She wanted us to learn from her life: don’t miss your own. Read it. You won’t soon forget.

The World Needs More Artists by Jeff Goins :: Jeff is a great voice for those of us who work hard at our craft but have trouble with the last five percent. He reminds us that making great art is its own reward and that we have a say in the kind of legacy we want to leave. His blog is one of my favorite new finds of 2011.

We’ve Been Conditioned to Not Make Mistakes by The Nester at Nesting Place :: She reminds us that while home is supposed to be the safest place on earth, some of us manage to make it our biggest source of shame. It’s not supposed to be that way. Read at your own risk.

What is Deployment? by Ashleigh Baker :: Think of honest writing and then go two steps deeper. That is how Ashleigh communicates on her blog. She spent many, many months alone with her two boys as her husband served overseas. And then he came home, and she wrote about it, and it was beautiful, and I still think of it sometimes. So here you go.

Hold Your Fire by Jenny S. Allen :: I met her on Canadian Thanksgiving in a Toronto hotel restaurant, she with my lost luggage and stories so similar to mine it made my head spin. We chatted over pizza until we closed the tired place down and shared nervous laughter over the interviews we had the next morning. And in that magic way that doesn’t happen all that often, a girl from Texas and a girl from North Carolina connected like girls who grew up only miles apart, swimming at the same pool. For any woman who feels a tug and a pull but is terrified of leading, read this post.

Here and There by Shannan Martin at Flower Patch Farm Girl :: She writes about home in ways that make me wish I had one. Not that I don’t have a home, I do. But we moved around so much when I was a kid that the roots she talks about didn’t have time to burrow deep. So I read her words and I know I feel that way about something but I just haven’t figured out what yet. So while this post is one of my favorites of the year, her entire blog is one of my favorite finds ever.

Because God Really Knows How to Meet Needs by Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience :: She wrote this post in November and I’ve thought of it more than I can say since then. Because The Farmer didn’t want to leave his pigs, but he did it anyway. And God has lovely ways of weaving our giftedness and our passion into our service and our worship. That is what he did on a small plot of land in Ecuador. I simply love this story.

These Are Magic Hours by Tara at Pohlkotte Press:: I found this post just a week ago. Tara linked up with Tuesdays Unwrapped and I’m so glad she did. She makes words dance. A taste? “These are the hours that make the years fly, folding us into life with grace and love.”

My Dead Hope by Gary Morland at New Life’n :: Don’t let the title fool you. It’s a post about broken dreams, yes. But it’s also infused with a beautiful, rich, scary hope that weighs even heavier than the dream. If you had goals for this year that never quite came to be, read this before the next year begins. And as a bonus? Gary has an ebook based on this series available for free download any day now – just look for Scary Hope (I’ll let you know when it’s available). And also he’s my dad so you know. There’s that.

Cherry Bomb by Megan Jordan at Velveteen Mind:: Whenever I feel wimpy in my writing I read this post by Megan and it makes me brave. She has a way of bossing without making me defensive, instead it just makes me get to work.

What do you think of these 10 posts {ok it’s 11}? Which ones would you add? (Feel free to share links in the comments, but if you leave more than one link, the blog will think you’re spam and block you). Would love to hear some of your favorite picks of the year.

And to you who have gathered here for yet another year, thank you for writing, for speaking truth into this chaotic world, for making your art, and sharing it with us.

Tagged art Filed Under inspired 19 Comments