Some days I don’t want to read.
Some days I don’t want to write.
Some days I want to go to the movies and eat popcorn and let someone else inspire.
Some days I don’t want to care.
Some days I don’t want to hope.
Some days I want to leave my sunglasses on and let someone else see the depths of others.
But other days I do read and write and care and hope.
And on those days I tend to the weeds growing through the foundation of my soul.
On those days as I soak in the sun, I plant and water and nourish and share the harvest of kindness, hope and love.
Because I don’t want to forget the other days on some days.
I care too much to let the some-day weeds overtake my other-days garden.
So on some days I walk slowly through the other-days beauty and try to remember the passion and power and joy of the other days.
And then I go to sleep praying that I’ll not forget to rest in the grace of the well-tended garden of the other days.
What questions and expectations are in your mind as you enter the theater to watch a movie? Are you asking if you’ll like the movie? Do you expect action or romance? Do you ever wonder what gift the movie has to offer you?
I get a lot out of movies and I love to talk about them with others. And when I say I get a lot out of them, I’m not messing around. I declared that Frozen literally changed my life and I’m not even being sarcastic. (Read about that here.)
Despite my self-declared distinction as a “writer,” I prefer the movie over the book every time. It might have something to do with the fact that I think in shapes and vague images and have a difficult time imagining elaborate descriptions, so I skip to dialogue. The “Abstract Thought” room as depicted in Inside Out is a perfect example of what happens in my head.
But I love the movies. I don’t have to focus hard on imagining, so I can just think and feel. And that’s where the magic happens for me.
Open Curiosity
Let’s look back to Les Miserables which came out in December of 2012. I recorded my observations about why I got so much out of the movie at that time, but the concept of open curiosity applies to every movie…every life.
Considering the many criticisms I heard regarding the quality of singing and singers chosen for the Les Mis, I was surprised the noticable lack of musical precision did not bother me as it often does. Instead, I was lost in the moment, inspired with every note. This is why:
Curiosity.
Rather than participating as a critic looking for certain elements, I came to the theater wondering what the experience would be like. Curiosity is an interest that doesn’t expect a certain answer. There’s no subtle demand to wondering…no agenda. Just the question.
Openness.
In my curiosity I didn’t guard my emotions like I often do when I don’t know what to expect. Instead, I gave myself permission to trust the filmmakers to draw me deep into a story and experience that took me to the depths of despair and up to the power of grace and love and redemption.
I realize that other directors may have set a higher standard of musical excellence. Other actors may have interpreted the characters differently. Other cinematographers may have chosen different shots or angles or lenses… But in the middle of the film, I wasn’t thinking about what they should have done to give me a different experience. I was experiencing. I made a mental decision after the first imperfect note to trust the artistic choices of the filmmakers and enter into the experience they were offering.
In the end, I was overcome by hope and desire. I sensed God’s presence with me – His love for the world – the great need for His light – a desire to love another and “see the face of God”.
Criticism Is The Safe Path
Why is it so tempting to view to view our life, others’ lives and God’s interaction in our life with a critic’s eye? I wonder if it’s partly because we are afraid of the unknown. We want the security of knowing everything will work out for the best, so we try to figure out how to make life work out for our idea of best. Rather than being curious, we are critical.
I can’t believe he said that! What was she thinking?
Viewing life as a critic allows us to pull out of the experience (where it is quite dangerous since who KNOWS what might happen) and close off our emotional responsiveness. From this seat in the house, we do not have to feel vulnerable or sad because we can be angry that someone did something differently than we’d hoped. Maybe it was a friend. Maybe it was ourselves. Maybe it was God. But there must be someone to blame. Rather than being open, we are closed and cynical.
In The End
Granted, I knew the plot of the Les Miserables story. I knew it was going to be miserable. I knew the misery would be redeemed in some way. So perhaps the fact that I knew the end of the story made it easier for me to remain open in the middle of despair.
I don’t know how every story will end here and now. People will get hurt. Some will feel tortured. I will die, though I don’t know how or when. There is ugliness, despair, misery. It’s awfully hard to feel hopeful when I don’t know what might happen in the end.
Or don’t I?
The thing is, if I consider what the Bible says and believe there is a bigger story…
if the end is one where justice and love rule side by side…
if there is a greater goal than happiness here and now…
if the whole world is in the pains of childbirth as the New Creation is born…
If my story is not the end…
If my story contributes to the greater Story…
Revelation 21:4-5 ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
If this is the end, can I trust God in the middle of the ups and downs of my story?
Open curiosity or closed cynicism?
What do you want to ask of the movies? What do you want to ask of life?
Sometimes we just need a good push to become more of who we are.
My childhood backyard was situated on a corner, so my parents surrounded it with a tall privacy fence. That yard was our academy of play. Mom was our teacher and Dad was our coach. My sister and I had all kinds of fun learning and growing in our yard. We grew in strength and accuracy as we played catch. We learned how to live in and celebrate the moment while we ran through and under streams of water from the hose. And we experienced the happy exhilaration of pumping our whole selves in rhythm with external forces (eh-hem…gravity) on the swing.
The swing was my happy-place. Sometimes we faced the house, other times we would face the fence and see if we could swing high enough to peak over the top and at the world outside. And every once in a while Dad would surprise us from behind…
Underdog!
His force of strength thrust us higher and faster than we ever went on our own. Dad’s underdogs were scary and thrilling and they inspired us to find the new swing-beat he set for us, and pump along.
Six months ago I was sitting on a swing in my current stomping grounds, the academy of purpose. There were things inside of my mind and heart that needed to come out, but I wasn’t sure I could let them go. I wasn’t sure I could swing with enough force of strength to do justice to the message I wanted to convey. I tried pumping my legs time after time but I didn’t know which way I wanted to face and I just couldn’t get my legs and body to move in sync. I looked around at others swinging and wondered if I would ever be able to join them – or if my insides would go to waste simply because I couldn’t find the swing-beat of my purpose.
Then out of nowhere…
Underdog!
Finally – clarity! I had words to say and passion with which to say them. I drove to the closest coffee shop, popped on my earphones and typed for two hours without stopping. When I got done, I posted my intimate thoughts on the movie Frozen(Frozen Top Ten), and let the world know.
My body began moving to the rhythm of the new swing-beat and pump, pump, pump…keep pumping! Every time I lost momentum, someone would give me the push I needed by sharing how he or she connected with my message. And somehow, I kept swinging.
Six months later I am a better version of myself. I am more of myself. I am playing in a playground that feels right and good and…like it was made for me. Sometimes I swing just high enough to peek over the fence and get a glimpse of things beyond – and then I settle into my swing-beat and keep pumping, knowing that at some point the rhythm will change again. And I want to be ready.
I love discovering people’s unique contributions to the world and then celebrating them by receiving their offerings with open arms. But when I have a specific need to fill, I often look around aimlessly – wondering who will help me. I don’t ask others for help because I’m afraid I might not get a response.
Being ignored feels worse than being invisible. Asking is risky.
Recently, I have been feeling the “need” for photos to use here on the blog. Images stick with me in ways words do not. That may sound crazy from someone who writes quite a bit. But it’s true. I’m the gal who prefers the movie over the book – most likely because I never read the book in the first place! (Can I say that?!) My brain imagines everything in diagram, so reading descriptions isn’t nearly as interesting to me as seeing the scene at the theater.
In fact, I remember my own blog post by the picture that accompanies it before I remember the title I gave it! So, finding an image to convey the message that flows out in each blog post is a big deal to me. I get lucky every once in a while with my own camera but I don’t really know what I’m doing. I toyed with the idea of learning more about photography, but I have SO many other things I want to do first.
So, week by week I look in the Creative Commons archives for images that speak what I am trying to say. And week after week I find ZERO joy in posting them.
Because I don’t know the photographer.
I tend to believe in finding jobs for the right people instead of finding the right person for a job. It is an important value I hold. I often make choices based on people I want to connect with rather than qualities I want in an institution or activity. It’s not that qualities don’t matter, it’s that the relationship oftentimes means more.
Empowered by this relational focus one night, I finally said to myself….
I should just ask.
And I did. You passed the word around and three very talented “amateur” photographers blew me away with their response. I couldn’t wait to share them with you!
Linda Liljehorn
Laura Bernero www.laurabernero@wordpress.com
Jennifer Brungardt
I am so grateful to them for opening up their archives to Live & Love Deeply. You will see more of them in the future.
Thanks as well to Christina Klausen Photography for her water image used for the title of this blog and this beautiful image of our daughter, used on my first breakout post about how Frozen changed my life:
www.christinaklausenphotography.com
I feel a deep connection with others when their art and my art dance. Maybe you’ll feel it too.
And maybe next time I’ll remember that people don’t know I need help until I ask. It’s worth the risk.
If you are interested in contributing a photograph or a few to the message of Live & Love Deeply, please email me for more information. Thank you!
awenburg@gmail.com
If you would like more thoughts on living and loving deeply, sign up for email notification of new posts on the right side or bottom of your screen. And as always, you are welcome to share with your friends!
Despite my self-declared distinction as a “writer,” I prefer the movie over the book every time. It might have something to do with the fact that I think in shapes and vague images and have a difficult time imagining elaborate descriptions, so I skip to dialogue. The “Abstract Thought” room as depicted in Inside Out is a perfect example of what happens in my head.
pull out of the experience (where it is quite dangerous since who KNOWS what might happen) and close off our emotional responsiveness. From this seat in the house, we do not have to feel vulnerable or sad because we can be angry that someone did something differently than we’d hoped. Maybe it was a friend. Maybe it was ourselves. Maybe it was God. But there must be someone to blame. Rather than being open, we are closed and cynical.
