On Language and Blogging

I am having some thoughts about what it means to blog well. As an intermediate blogger at best, I ask myself, what is required to blog skillfully and poignantly? How does one best capitalize on his or her own faculties of language to capture a moment, a scene, a figure? Good writing, it seems uses language aptly, specifically, precisely without sounding overly discursive. Am I capable of reaching this level of blogging mastery? This will be a long road for me.

I want to convey ideas in relatable terms that precisely capture my ideas, but I stumble through my limited, internal lexicon. In this moment, as I type along - click - click - click - my brain gropes for exactly the right word while I wonder, is anyone reading this? Does anyone relate to this? In this vast sea of cyberspace, does my diction even matter? I can't help but wonder if I am projecting some clumsy form of myself into a vast, electronic nothingness. Do other bloggers struggle with these same questions and internal restrictions? Restrictions of language? Restrictions of ideas? Restrictions of thought?

Tonight I read Twain's quote and remember that all writers must, to some extent feel this way.

“The difference between the right word and almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.”

Language can expand us, astound us, change us or it can bind us in its web. I want to break through that web and control my use of language so that my blogs are vibrant and vital. So, I continue to wait for those inspirational moments and hope that maybe once in a while I can capture one in just the right way. I'll keep working for that.

Running in Circles

If you don't live in northern California you may not be aware of the pounding we've received lately from a string of unrelenting storms. We've already lost part of our fence and when I asked Phil last week if he knew the location of our trash can, he replied, "We put it away."

"We did?"

"You did, right?"

"Nope."

One more quick survey of the street revealed it's location - four houses down, across the street, lid open, lying in the wet gutter - GOAL.

We're all wet up here. I guess I'm telling you this because it's been nearly impossible to get outside and complete my training for my upcoming half marathon run/walk. Last week, I threw caution to the wind, literally and trained outside despite the elements. I think I mentioned my response to that decision on my Facebook status. Pelted with wind and rain, freezing my ears off, with several miles to go, I felt overcome by the intimate and intense peace of God.

This week, I tried a more, er...creative training method. I woke up and remembered that our local mall opens early for walkers. Why not train inside this week? I don't know the distance of a lap around the big place, but I have a fairly good sense of my fifteen minute mile. This week I had to complete seven of those suckers. After calling the Galleria to confirm that they do indeed host walkers in the morning, I made my decision and was off.

What a strange way to train! I found myself circling the mall, virtually alone, with the exception of the occasional low-spirited security guard or members of the cleaning crew peppered throughout the building buffing and scrubbing, no doubt in anticipation of the day's crowds.

The strangest part of this experience? During my run, I felt this uncanny sense of expedited window shopping. As the theme from Rocky trumpeted through my headphones, I raced past the glossy pink mannequins of Wet Seal (It's so hard now) past the cloud-like poofs of Pottery Barn Kids' Beatrix Potter quilts (getting strong now), Popcornopolis now in my rear view, (gonna fly), pondering the mosquito netting-like cylindrical lamps above the food court, (FLY) and back around to that Nordstrom's pleated skirt (FLY! Bah, bah, BAH!)

I thought about efforts. All my efforts. The mall is a funny place. In the right context, it can offer the same spiritual reflective space as a cloister. As I struggled to complete seven miles with some semblance of grace, I thought about the things for which we all strive. The mall stands as a haunting symbol of society's efforts to possess the Pottery Barn, Express, Nordstrom's, Gap life. I am no exception and too often fall victim to this great illusion, but on this morning - in these moments, I also found great irony in the emptiness of our palatial mall. It was just a little glimpse, but a penetrating one for me.

Cease striving and know that I am God.

Psalm 46:10

Hallelujahs and Hot Dog on a Stick

Don't know if I'm actually going to attend tomorrow's highly publicized secret flash mob event at our local mall. Supposedly, our city's choral society will sing an impromptu version of Handel's Messiah - the Hallelujah Chorus to be exact. Do I wish to navigate the vast crowd of suburbanites who will flood the Galleria Food Court to witness this event?

After viewing a youtube video of a similar event in Toronto, Canada my response is an emphatic "yes". I was so moved by this youtube video (link below).

I don't know if you're like me - I live in a sleepy suburban town where life is so easy that I often find myself searching for meaning beneath the sidewalks, school buses and strip mall fronts. As a tiny little resident of a gigantic American dream-like sprawl, it's easy for me to feel lost in the land of the generic and homogenized. But as I watched this youtube video tonight I was reminded of something. Christ reigns.

Check out some of these words...

For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, Hallelujah!

King of kings and Lord of lords.

And He shall reign forever and ever, Hallelujah!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

There we will be, holding our shopping bags from Macy's or William Sonoma, maybe munching on Hot Dog On a Stick, thinking about, oh, I don't know, our Christmas lists, the parking lot, our tired feet, etc.

And then we will hear it - the voices of ordinary people singing the deep and profound truths of God's love.

These words affirm what I know to be true in the deepest recesses of my heart. There is a truth, a divine truth that supersedes my silly little prosaic life. And at the same time, God is in me, reigning. My Meaning is here and it brings real, hot tears to my eyes. Lord, thank you for your grace, your transcendence, your victory over the mundane and the meaningless. I want to live my life for You.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXh7JR9oKVE

School is out and blogging season has begun for me. I must admit that my blog and I have much to catch up on...trying to figure out where to begin. Shall I focus on my recent traumatic experience of viewing "Food Inc."? Shall I focus on the status of our adoption and the Everest of paperwork that comes with it? Shall I focus on the reasons why a woman like me, decides (despite the advice of friends and family) NOT to apply for a higher paying position in the school district? Maybe it's just this for now - I'm kicking up my feet and watching a few movies and cleaning a few rooms and chilling, just chilling. Thanks, dear blog for letting me post my thoughts onto your open, receptive little face. I'll get back soon...

First and Last

Kitten watches the ice cube dissolve

Swallowed by the surrounding water

of his steel saucer

He sees

the skeletal crystal shell

carve its clockwise course

and spiral from the center out

to the edges.

He stares, fixates

as the tiny frozen sliver clings to the side of his dish for

that final second when

the last remnants of its cloudy matrix disappear into nothingness

His hollow eyes search inquisitively for the substance of 

what once was.

I share his first experience with endings.

Why I Said "No" to Buying a Blackberry

"In writing the short novel Fahrenheit 451 I thought I was describing a world that might evolve in four or five decades. But only a few weeks ago, in Beverly Hills one night, a husband and wife passed me, walking their dog. I stood staring after them, absolutely stunned. The woman held in one hand a small cigarette-package-sized radio, its antenna quivering. From this sprang tiny copper wires which ended in a dainty cone plugged into her right ear. There she was, oblivious to man and dog, listening to far winds and whispers and soap-opera cries, sleep-walking, helped up and down curbs by a husband who might just as well not have been there. This was not fiction."- Ray Bradbury, 1960

Is it too late for me to back-paddle?

Finding God in the Thin Place

Tony Campolo speaks about meeting God in the thin place. The idea originated from the early Celtic Christians and can be defined in the following way:

Thin Places are those spaces in life where the veil between the holy and the ordinary becomes very thin…to the point that we experience an intense, intimate connection with the living God.

Although we know that God is with us all the time, the type of intimate experience found in the thin place is cultivated through disciplined, meditative, selfless prayer, requiring our relinquishment of worldly things and our active acknowledgement of God's grace.

Madame Guyon also describes this fellowship of the inner life:
The greatest difficulty you will have in waiting upon the Lord has to do with your mind. The mind has a very strong tendency to stray away from the Lord. Therefore, as you come before the Lord to sit in his presence, beholding him, make use of the Scripture to quiet your mind...The Lord once promised to come and make his home within you (John 14:23). He promised there to meet those who worship him and do his will. The Lord will meet you in your spirit. It was St. Augustine who once said that he has lost much time in the beginning of his Christian experience by trying to find the Lord outwardly rather than by turning inwardly.

I think my own search for the thin place probably starts with a deep, contemplative honesty with myself - an honesty that forces me to confront the sin in my life and lay it all at the feet of Jesus. I must surrender my cynicism and drop the defenses that I have systematically built over a lifetime and open myself to a disciplined practice of the presence of God. I know that God's chief desire is to reveal himself to us and I want to leave behind everything that will impede that process.

Our spiritual home belongs in the thin place. When Jesus died the veil between the holy and the ordinary was torn and a way was made for us to approach the personality of God. The Lord gives us the experience of enjoying His presence! He draws us to Himself and in that light, my own self is overshadowed and lost in His mighty love.