21 Things .21

LAST ONE! Twenty-one posts and two months later! I made it!

I had hoped to finish strong; have something really profound to say for this last one, or maybe even something to draw all of my other posts together, but no inspirations have come to mind, so instead, I'm going to share another person's blog post about the movie Dunkirk that I saw last night...

There are many war movies out there, but Dunkirk is different. It speaks to the raw emotions and uncertainties of each moment with masterfully orchestrated suspense, and dialogue that is eloquent in its sparsity. For a few hours we get an omnipotent sense of the character's intertwining lives - faces are put to the soldiers, pilots, officers, and civilians while keeping a sense of their anonymity in the greater conflict. Viewers are given very little insight into the backgrounds of these ordinary people. The confusion and enormity of the war is palpable. 
Yet I couldn't help reflecting that none of them were anonymous to God. 

Really there are many levels on which I think this movie could be approached, the following blog post speaks to just one of them... 

The War We Need: Not a Review of 'Dunkirk'

21 Things .20

Imagination

The other night during dinner, my family was reminiscing over the days when my sister and I played pretend. 
We could play for hours and hours without a thought to time, but sometimes we had to return from our imaginary worlds quickly if we were called to supper or bed. In such moments my mom remembers coming upon our toys and sets left mid-play waiting expectantly for our return, and loving the little glimpse into our lives and imaginations.
Life was pretty simple...For awhile my biggest dream was to have my dad build a wooden house for my little pioneer figurines. I'd draw sketches of the curtains, the "garden" I would plant for them outside, and the meals they'd make. Dad did make me my house - I was never able to make it quite as elaborate as I'd envisioned it, but I was content.

Its been said that "play is the work of childhood," (Jean Piaget) which is very true, or at least should be true. Play is important. Although we were deep in the land of imagination we were really exploring and building upon our understanding of the world...

There was the bubble factory my sister and I created in the backyard under the deck. We'd first be the receptionist and gather the orders (who wouldn't want to order custom made bubbles?!). Then we'd mix food colouring into bubble liquid. It didn't change the colour of the actual bubbles, but it was the idea that counted.

Then there were the times we drew chalk roads, gas stations, and buildings and played town and cops and robbers. The jail was the garage.

There were the countless videos my sister and I created of the news, the silly skits we performed in the living room, and the birthday parties we'd throw for our stuffies.

Once we built forts out of pillows with my cousin and burrowed in them like foxes and moles (we could never convince my sister to be anything less than a unicorn).

Its good to remember these things. I'm thankful for playmates and my parents who encouraged and celebrated our use of imagination!

Do you have any special memories of make-believe?

21 Things .19

A Collection of Quotes Part II

Again, these are really random, but thought provoking nonetheless :)

"I have never let my schooling interfere with my education." - Mark Twain

"It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down." - Lantern Bearers, Rosemary Sutcliff

"Electric communication will never be a substitute for the face of someone who with their soul encourages another person to be brave and true." - Charles Dickens

"'That's a lovely idea, Diana,' said Anne enthusiastically. 'Living so that you beautify your name, even if it wasn't beautiful to begin with...making it stand in people's thoughts for something so lovely and pleasant that they never think of it by itself." - Anne of Avonlea, L. M. Montgomery

"We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God." 
- Bonhoeffer

21 Things .18

A Common Thread

You may have noticed a common thread weaving its way through many of my 21 Things posts. It wasn't intentional, but the majority of my musings relate to literature or art in some way. They reveal what speaks to me, and most importantly how God speaks to me. Books certainly don't replace the revelation of His Word, but Jesus demonstrates that it is in God's character to interact uniquely with each individual, especially since he is the one who created us to be unique. Think of how different the people were who encountered Jesus, like Zacchaeus, the Samaritan woman at the well, or the disciples. John, known as "the disciple whom Jesus loved (John 19:26)" was given special insight into the depth of that love, while Peter's impetuosity and fear was met by Jesus' firm but tender question: "do you love me?" (John 21:16). They had unique gifts and struggles yet Jesus was speaking to both of them, equipping them for the tasks ahead.

~

Eric Liddell, the 1924 Olympic gold medalist said: "God made me fast. And when I run, I feel his pleasure." 
Well, I feel God's pleasure when I read (and dance! - but that's a topic for another day).

I've always enjoyed reading, but I've struggled lately to reconcile it as a skill. 
When I was younger I could measure my reading abilities by the expectations of the school system. Reading a book for ages 12-14 when I was 9 gave me confidence. It was always the content of the book that was of most importance, but reading something bigger or unique for my age instigated enjoyable conversations with friends and strangers alike. Yet now that I'm older, books are not measured by their level, only by their genre, and sitting in a public place with a book in hand doesn't draw conversation. I miss that.
There are countless stories that have shaped the landscape of my mind, but the more that I read, the more I realize how little I've read and how little I know, and how little I'll ever know.

It reminds me of a statement made in Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury:

"The first thing you learn in life is you're a fool. The last thing you learn in life is you're the same fool." 

Reading teaches critical thinking and empathy, but unlike painting or playing an instrument or a sport, they are skills not easily visible. Despite this, I will continue to read, to learn and to listen.

Its comforting to know that God uses fools :)

~

We all have skills that bring us joy and satisfaction, drawing us to look beyond ourselves. 
What makes you feel God's pleasure?

21 Things .17

Chasing After the Wind

This week I've been reading Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and though I find his dialogue style rather hard to follow, every once in awhile a bold line or descriptive phrase will arrest me with its poignancy - often I have to reread it a few times to get it, but that satisfying "aha!" moment is worth the attempt!

One of the earlier chapters in the novel describes the characters attending a private screening of a silent film with their friend the lead actress. Their dialogue is crafted in such a way as to capture the frivolous and superficial culture of the Roaring 20's. 
They say everything and yet nothing. 
Yet when the actress offers Dick Divers a screen test he refuses and the dialogue turns serious when he states:

"The strongest guard is placed at the gateway to nothing... Maybe because the condition of emptiness is too shameful to be divulged."

He's speaking of Hollywood and his words are maybe even more applicable today almost a hundred years later.

The American Dream.
Rags to riches, the desire to be "known" by the world, and the anticipated wealth and bright lights are empty pursuits, and yet they remain alluring in a strange and twisted way. 

A more contemporary example would be La La Land, a beautiful movie created in the spirit and colour of old musical classics, but one that leaves the viewer (at least me) unsettled. The characters have chosen their dreams over each other and despite their individual successes, there is that same, unmistakable "condition of emptiness." 

I'm reminded of Ecclesiastes 2:3-4, 10-11
“I tried cheering myself with wine, and embracing folly… I denied myself nothing my eyes desired; I refused my heart no pleasure… I made great works. I built houses and planted vineyards for myself…Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun.”

21 Things .16

A Collection of Quotes Part I

The title is rather self explanatory :) 
Below are a few random, thought-provoking quotes that I've highlighted in my reading. 
One of my pet peeves is when quotes are taken out of context (especially online) or attributed to the author instead of their character, but I also understand the power of brevity. 
Isn't it amazing how so much can be said with so few words?!

"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved - loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves." - Les Miserables, Victor Hugo

"Procrastination is the thief of time, collar him." David Copperfield, Charles Dickens.

"A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell." - The Problem of Pain, C. S. Lewis

"Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries."
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." - Dumblerdore in Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone, J. K. Rowling

21 Things .15

Impressions of Impressionism

This weekend, at the suggestion of a very thoughtful friend, I took myself to an art gallery to see an exhibit of Claude Monet's paintings!

My overall impression (no pun intended) was one of quiet awe. As I entered the first room, crowded with sightseers huddled in clumps around gilded frames, my eyes welled up with tears (on more than a few occasions). 
Such emotion wasn't unexpected, but I wondered, was I crying because I was seeing these original, revered works of art in person? My immediate answer was no - although it was an incredible and surreal experience, the idea of seeing one of my favourite artist's work stirred in me jittery excitement more than anything. Why then?
It took me the entire visit to sift through my thoughts, and I slowly but surely came to the realization that I was overcome by the sense of life in his work - almost a palpable presence in the room.
Now that may sound rather silly but let me explain...

As I gazed at the first painting I wondered whether I would have enjoyed it if I didn't know Monet had painted it. The truthful answer was that, no, I wouldn't even glance twice at some of his more abstract pieces. With this realization I felt a bit ashamed because I'm taught, especially with Modern Art to be able to appreciate art for the sake of art, or to find the art's message entirely in the (often ambiguous) piece itself. Many modern pieces go so far as to expect the viewer to find the meaning simply in what they personally make of it. In Modern Art, I often get the sense that the artist as a person is distant from their artwork and subsequently the viewer. 
Now Modern Art certainly intrigues me, and there are contemporary pieces that have moved me deeply, but they have yet to speak to my soul as Monet's paintings. 
After all these thoughts rushed through my head, I flushed as the shame was replaced with the thrill of understanding that liking Monet's work because it was painted by Monet is okay. The Impressionist's work was revolutionary, and in fact paved the way for modern art, and yet they painted what they loved. Understanding their journey enhances my appreciation. Monet's life story is inseparable from his work.

So for me, my love of Impressionist art and my walk through the gallery that day was a biographical one. To be able to see the bold and dancing brush strokes and the texture of paint that created the illusion of flickering colours of nature (sometimes Monet mixed sand from the beach into his paint when he was capturing beach scenes, and he never used black, believing it wasn't a natural colour of nature). Such things revealed Monet's pioneering genius. But at the same time I was surprised by the simplicity of some of his work, and his inadequate renderings of the world. When looking at his pictures online, the incomplete corners of canvases are omitted. 
So yes, I got to see the work of an artist I have long admired, but he is just a man after all - imperfect and incapable of capturing what he saw.

He knew better than anyone that trying to capture the light as he desired was impossible. "Quite beyond my powers", he said, and yet (and this is what I find so beautiful) he painted anyway. He exuded a quiet resilience that kept him at his easel even as he began to go blind, and when the battlefront of World War I encroached on his garden in Giverny. 
"I would much rather die here" he said, "in the middle of what I have done."

Getting a glimpse of the world through Monet's perceptive eyes is a testament to the fact that one human soul is truly an epic on the grandest scale.

21 Things .14

Role Models and Wonder

We all have our role models. Some of them are close mentors and family members and continue to influence us our entire lives, others we admire from afar or are only influenced by for a season. Whatever the case, we can conclude that role models have a lasting impact.

As a six year old still new to the school playground, I remember a group of Grade 6 kids who'd talk to little me and sometimes walk me home from school. Their attention made me feel so special and I thought it would be grand to be their age!

Then Grade 6 came along and I definitely didn't feel as grown up as I'd envisioned them. In fact, its one of those years that I find most difficult to recall. It was a great year but not strikingly so.

Then there were the years following in which I looked up to specific camp and youth leaders. Some I saw weekly, others only for a short week, but whatever the case, I was always struck by their confidence and willingness to include me in their lives. 

Having now served in many camp and leadership roles, all I can say is that its very different. Where was my confidence? I wondered. Why was I so tired? 

Don't get me wrong; such leadership experiences were wonderful but I never did feel like I thought my leaders had felt.

There were also countless times that I watched The Sound of Music (a favourite), and it got me wondering with anticipation what it would be like to finally be able to sing that I was "sixteen turning on seventeen! 

Again, definitely not the same! 

You're probably noticing a theme here :)

~

It was a painfully slow day at work today and my mind was muddled with summer allergies and the doldrums of a hot, stuffy room. Then a young family walked in and the memories I have just been describing rushed over me. It was the kids that sparked them. They came rushing into the museum ahead of their parents, practically running with excitement and saying hello to me before I had a chance to greet them.

"So you've come to have a look at the museum?" I said, trying to emerge from my foggy brain.

"Yes! We're so excited!" the boy exclaimed. He was about nine years old. "We love mines - I mean, we love learning about history, and since mining is a part of that, we like it too!" 

I took "we" to mean his sister and him.

Kindred spirits! My heart warmed as I talked briefly with this brother and sister. Not often do you meet kids who walks into a museum like its an amusement park!

After their parents had paid I opened the old cash register to put away the change. "Cha-ching." 

The siblings were peeking up over the counter and they gasped in unison at the sound. "Wow!" the girl said softly, "You're so lucky!" 

You're so lucky.

Those were the words that really struck me. I saw my younger self in her place, watching a young lady put cash into an old historic cash register and admiring her and her job. 

I definitely didn't feel "lucky" today, but her words gave me a new perspective. It made me realize that although the world and the unknown continue to get bigger as I grow, I get the opportunity to be in a position I would have admired as a young girl. Today I was reminded of the wonder and expectancy of childhood as well as the fact that role models don't often know that they are role models and seldom do they feel like one, and I'm thankful for that.

P.S. Only one year to go until I can sing Taylor Swifts "22" :P

21 Things .13

Living in the Moment

As an assistant at a local museum I'm expected to execute a myriad of tasks whether that be assisting with administration, setting up for events, researching, helping with exhibits, answering visitors questions, or organizing. Yesterday I painted an old, worn easel a fresh coat of black. As I prepared the brushes and the area outside for my project in the heat of midday, my mind was free to wander, but even so I found myself focused comfortably on the task at hand. I was taking in the feel of the paint, the thickness of the brush, and even the ants scurrying at my feet, attracted by the sticky sweetness. I realized how little I usually attend to these details. Usually my thoughts are rushing ahead, but in that moment I was absolutely content to live in the moment. 
My black easel cannot compare to God's creation of the world but I felt so accomplished with my project and I knew this simple joy came from doing what He intended me to do: work and create. I've learned that work is not a curse. Adam and Eve were given the task of tending the garden before sin entered the world. Still, only in heaven will we be equipped to work at our fullest potential. 
In the meantime we sweat, put in the hours necessary to pay the bills, and find joy in the menial. Although I can't say I know what its like to do a "hard day's work" of say, farm work,  I couldn't help but reflect on the many Proverbs that concern work and planning as I painted. Here are a few of them:

"He who gathers in summer is a prudent son..." 10:5

"Whoever works his land will have plenty of bread, but he who follows worthless pursuits will have plenty of poverty." 28:19

"Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand" 19:21

21 Things .12

Refreshed

I've just returned from soaking up the sun on the West Coast! 
Ok, I didn't just soak it up, I burned, but it was worth it!

Friday afternoon found my family on Long Beach, the welcoming waves and iconic sands stretching into the haze of mist. At first I refused to touch the icy water, but then my feet carried me into the waves with the others. So then I said I'd only wade, but the next thing I knew I'd dunked and was shivering...and happy. I couldn't resist the ocean!

Saturday - another cloudless day - found us at Little Beach (Little, Long, Big... couldn't they have more creative beach names?), struggling into our wet suits and balancing on paddle boards as we set out to explore the surrounding coast.  
There is something so thrilling about being so close to the water; and its a different kind of "close" than canoeing or kayaking. Standing, I sensed every ebb of the waves under my feet and had freedom to move about, kneel, or lie down and look over the edge at my leisure. The windswept trees on shore and the distant, shimmering horizon of blue got me into what I call the Moana spirit and I started singing:"but I come back to the water no matter how hard I try..." "see the light where the sky meets the sea, it calls me..."
The horizon truly was calling. At one point everyone else had returned close to shore and despite the fact that I knew I was wandering a bit too far out alone, I couldn't stop paddling. The sky and the mysterious depths beneath me both terrified and excited me (these two emotions seem to be a theme with my lately).
Nothing unexpected happened and after my dad had come out the join me I eventually paddled back, but I couldn't help glancing over my shoulder every now and then to capture the wild scene in my memory. 

The ocean experiences I had this weekend seem a fitting metaphor for how I feel about life right now: out between the familiar shore and the unknown horizon, fearful at times and uncertain whether to paddle forward or back, but paddling nonetheless. 
This constant internal conflict is tiring but I'm taking it one day at a time. I thank God for weekends of refreshment and for giving me moments such as these to help me understand myself better. 

21 Things .11

Feeling the Rhythm

This summer I've invested in a punch card for Zumba classes at my local rec centre and am enjoying every minute of it! 
Zumba is a rather new phenomena in the world of aerobics, inspired by Latin American dances like salsa, flamenco and tango, along with a mix of hip hop and 1920's Charleston.  Unlike other forms of exercise that feel like exercise, dancing allows me to sink into the rhythm and add my own flair, while enjoying the company of others in an energetic atmosphere. Despite often being the youngest, I find it encouraging that people of all ages are learning (or keeping up their) dancing skills.

We live in such a reserved and individualistic culture and though not everyone is invigorated by the freedom of dancing as I am (frustration, indifference, or embarrassment might be words that are coming to mind), I think we can learn so much from countries in which dance plays an integral role in relating to one other. Whether dancing solo, in couples, or groups, dance can break barriers, build confidence, and offer refreshment.

I began dancing at a young age, taking ballet classes and having spontaneous dance parties in the living room, and in the past few years I've begun swing and ballroom dancing. My hope to do more of this in the future, but in the meantime I'll dance Zumba to my heart's content! Wherever or whatever I do, I will always be dancing!

21 Things .10

Car rides in the back seat with my sister were always fun! We'd pop in an Adventures in Odysseys CD and listen expectantly while gazing out the windows at the passing scenery. In fact, the length of trips were often counted not by hours but by how many Odysseys we could finish!
Then there were the times we'd bring along a notebook and some dice and co-write little stories. The dice dictated how many words we were allowed to write down on our turn. Jumping back and forth like this (one of us writing maybe two words, the other six) and our imaginations going in different directions made us create very goofy tales. Later we'd even co-colour an illustration to glue beside the story! 
I recently stumbled upon the very notebook. I laughed as I read it and thought I'd share our first work!
Aside from a few corrections I've kept the spelling as it was :)

The Shy Unicorn

Once upon a time there was a unicorn. She was the most magical animal in Rosebush Forest. She was always shy of animals. Every time a forest animal would come by she would hide in her tree house, because she thought they would laugh at her funny hair that stood strait up in the air. One day while eating jujube berries, a raccoon saw her and she din't even look up. The raccoon ran off to tell his friends and parents that he hadn't ever seen an animal as beautiful as this. He was happy the hole day after seeing the unicorn that he could not thingk of anything else and he lost his job at the toy store. The unicorn was very excited to hear that someone thought she din't look funny. Unicorn, for the rest of her life liked the way she looked and she made all kinds of friends. 
The End.

21 Things .09

The Ocean's Song

                "Full many a spot
Of hidden beauty have I chanced to espy
Among the mountains; never one like this
So lonesome, and so perfectly secure;
Not melancholy - no, for it is green
And bright and fertile...
- In rugged arms how softly does it lie.
How tenderly protected!... were this
Man's only dwelling, sole appointed seat,
First, last, and single in the breathing world,
It could not be more quiet: peace is here
Or nowhere."

At least that's what William Wordsworth was moved to write as he wandered near Blea Tarn in England's Lake District. I hope one day to see the place that inspired the pens of so many 19th century poets, but reading the words above with my limited travel experience, I see not the lakes, "vales and hills" of England but the rugged West Coast of Canada. It is my Lake District; my favourite place in the world.
There is a visceral sense of freedom, peace, and unbroken spirit in the salty breeze, the constant crash of the waves, the lush, weathered forests, the creatures hiding in the tide pools, and the dense fogs that lift in the evenings to reveal glorious sunsets.

I can't say I've spent much time there, but it was where I was introduced to the ocean; something I can no longer imagine living without nearby. Its been a year since I've been there; much has happened since, and I'm anticipating a trip there soon with my family!

There is something so comforting in the fact that no matter what I do or where I go, the tide moves methodically in and out on those beloved shores (as they do everywhere). The reason this comforts me is that I know Who has established and given boundaries to those waves (Proverbs 8:27-29). The Lord continues to uphold them and all of the creatures that live there: "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?" (Matthew 6:26). 
As I work, and think (and worry) about the future - tuition costs in particular - so close but so far from the peaceful shores of the ocean, I take comfort in such words.  

21 Things .08

My Little Town

Its been two days since I've posted, which isn't helpful when I'm trying to count down to something... Blogging is certainly a priority for me right now but sometimes life happens and that's okay.

Yesterday for work I got the opportunity to put up posters around downtown for a local event. What struck me in my wanderings was how vibrant my little town is with its unique, small businesses. I love to support them but I rarely enter so many in quick succession. Each door opened into a world and culture of its own, filled with friendly faces, many of whom I recognize and some who recognize me. There was the whole foods grocery store where I used to work - the people there are like family and I was received with lots of hugs - then my favourite second-hand bookstore with the welcoming comfort of a dozing cat in the window; the various coffee shops, each with a particular flair, and the brewery, barber shop, clothing stores, restaurants filled with the chatter of breakfasters, and the list could go on.
Having worked in the midst of this hub of activity and then living away for a year has given me new appreciation for this town that I call home. Its exciting that there's still so much to explore!

21 Things .07

Reconciling My Faith with  Art

In my last post I shared briefly about an artist who has inspired me (it was the weekend and I didn't have time to expound), but now I'd like to dig a little deeper into my thoughts on the arts, and its relationship with my faith in particular.

~

For a few months last year I connected weekly with two dear friends of mine to talk about art, choosing a separate era or style each time. It was spontaneous, we were unashamedly nerdy, and it was wonderful! Our conversations would lead us in countless directions and I'm amazed how much I learned from the pieces we admired, laughed over, and questioned.

The arts - not simply paintings but poetry, literature, theatre, dance, and music - have been integral delights in my life and are the things through which God often chooses to speak to me! Yet I'm often frustrated with the lack of artistry and cultural awareness in the Christian community. A confusingly antagonistic yet passive attitude towards the world of arts reigns, which has resulted in the creation of separate "Christian art", a genre of its own that is often naive, cliche, and cringe-worthy.  

This is not to say that I've lost hope. There are Christians who are gifted artists and work right in the thick of things, and as I wrote in a recent essay... "I am incredibly passionate about...the potential for art to express Christ gently yet piercingly." 

The arts offer an opportunity to wrestle with the raw questions of existence and contribute richly to the world discussion, "not using it primarily as a tool to tell the Gospel (sermonize) but to show it (Turner, 21)." 

What if we expressed "God’s rich perspective, which views people with dignity, value, and as creative beings, and explores truth and beauty, without ignoring the realities of life?" What meaningful and hopeful art we'd create!

I've come to the conclusion that being both a Christian and a lover of the arts doesn't entail isolation and neither does it mean embracing or conforming to worldly ideas. Instead it means: "testing and wrestling with worldly ideas and in the process renewing (my) mind (Rom. 12:2). Using Shakespeare's Macbeth as an example, Turner (the author of Imagine: A Vision for Christians in the Arts - A book I'd highly recommend) states how by watching the main character succumb to his lust for power does not mean we condone such actions, instead we are 'measuring' him against a standard of 'nobility and purity' (41). This is why it is a tragedy."

In other words, discernment and reflection are key.

Psalms 137:4 asks: "How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?" 
Its a question that continues to convict me.

References: 

Turner, Steve. Imagine: A Vision for Christians in the Arts. Illinois: InterVarsity Press. 2001. Print.

21 Things .06

Simple Thoughts on Art

Today's will be short :) 
I recently found a copy of Vincent Van Gogh's Cafe Terrace At Night at Value Village and its been given a new home in my parent's hallway. Antique and thrift stores are treasure-troves of art and my hope is to slowly collect pieces during my infrequent visits there! So far I've got a painting of a Grecian arch and one by Renior (I love the Impressionists!)...

I've especially been admiring Van Gogh's works of late and that's probably due to listening to Vincent, a song by Don MacLean. Its a beautiful tribute to a troubled life and a gifted artist - but I'll let the song speak for itself...

21 Things .05

"I go there to be crowned" - Faber

There's a beautiful forest near my house rich with tapestries of green leaves and carpets of giant ferns. Its a busy thoroughfare; students and people with dogs use it daily and I often go for runs or walks through its trails. Its not a secluded place but to me its always had a magical depth. One stretch of the trail in particular has always stirred my imagination. The trees arch overhead like cathedral domes and give the illusion of continuing on forever even though I know houses and roads are just out of sight. I don't know when it started but I began calling it my "Sherwood Forest" and after one of my walks about a year ago, I decided to write a poem. Here's an excerpt:

"In blissful solitude
      I stood, amongst a group of stately kings
Archaic robes of lichen-moss
     And ferns of oriental green...

Oft’ when in a pensive mood, I pause
     Within this idyll wood
Where Time refrains his mortal grip
     And soothes the harried soul..."

When I came home for the summer I didn't expect to have the same connection with the little forest plot, but I've discovered its become even dearer to me because every time I've walked through since returning I've been met with a gift. 

First it was an eagle swooping low through the trees right over my head, the next time it was two owls calling to each other from either side of the path, and just the other day I witnessed two woodpeckers only a few feet away from me chirping delightedly.

I thank God for these glorious glimpses of his creation in my Sherwood Forest/bird sanctuary!

21 Things .04

The Surprises of General Studies

When people (acquaintances and strangers in particular) ask me what I'm taking at college and I say General Studies, the responses are varied. Either my pronouncement instigates a lively discussion or abruptly ends the conversation as quickly as its begun. "Oh" they say with a hint of uncertainty as if they don't know what to ask next. General Studies are so, well, general.
And I don't blame them. Even I have uncertainty, not because I'm concerned what others will think of my education choice but because I'm not sure what I think... What am I really doing? A year into my studies and I feel further from knowing what degree and career I'd like to pursue.

Yet "General" has some exciting surprises hidden up its sleeve. Take Psychology for example. 
I would never have ventured from Humanities if I'd had the choice, but two courses later, Psychology is one of my favourite subjects.
Even if I never pursue it further, I've learned invaluable things about myself (there's so many "aha" moments - oh that's why I do that!). If anything, Psychology reveals just how beautifully complex the human brain has been designed!
For example, did you know, that after being imprisoned for seven years during China's Cultural Revolution, pianist Liu Chi Kung went immediately back on tour. When asked how he had kept up his skill without a piano he replied, "I did practice every day. I rehearsed every piece I had ever played, note by note, in my mind" (Myers & Dewall).

Psychology has also taught me that labels are powerful things.
Recognizing thought patterns and their roots is half the battle and used properly they can equip us to understand ourselves.
But labels can also be used to negatively define ourselves and others, becoming the controlling factor; the focus instead of the person. 

Knowing that I'm a first-born child and more of an introvert equips me to respond to and embrace my personality, but it also reveals what I can work on and helps me see beyond myself.  Yet "introvert" remains a man-made category and doesn't have to define me.

I've only skimmed the surface of this fascinating and pioneering subject... who knows what the future holds!

References:
Myers, D. G. & Dewall C. N. (2015). Psychology. New York: Worth Publishers.

21 Things .03

Hidden Lives

One of my favourite movies is Hugo directed by Martin Scorsese which follows the life of an orphan boy in Paris 1931, his work in the train station as the keeper of the clocks, and his encounters with a young girl and her seclusive grandfather. What I find most intriguing about this film is that its based off of true events. There is something delightful about the colour and magic mingled with the ordinary!

At its core Hugo is a story about a man and a boy who think they've been forgotten by the world. Its a masterful tribute to the artistry of early film and the hidden lives of those who created them.
When I reflect on how many other lives have and are being lived unnoticed, I'm overwhelmed (working in a museum makes me very aware of them). Everyone has a story to tell, but 

"Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen."

Its comforting to know that God plants each flower with tender purpose.

~

I'm a lover of old films, especially the pioneering silent film era! It was actually The Invention of Hugo Cabret (the book that inspired the movie) that introduced me to Harold Lloyd, a brilliant silent film actor who has remained hidden, unfortunately, in Charlie Chaplin's shadow. 
Not long after discovering Harold's films I came down with a terrible cold and consoled myself by watching a bunch of them (thank goodness for youtube!). 

If you have any suggestions for good old movies, whether from the silent or dancing, musical eras, let me know :)  

21 Things .02

"Here and Now"

I don't know if its just me but I find birthdays bittersweet. Its like being handed clothes too big and expected to wear them until they fit. Problem is that just as they begin to feel comfortable its time to exchange them for new ones.  
Then I find myself reminiscing about the me that was, and though they're usually pleasant almost unconscious thoughts I'll suddenly feel a twinge of grief because they're the past, never to happen again. As such I'm finding that transitioning into adulthood involves a certain level of mourning.

Recently memories have flashed before me, surprising me with their vividness and the fact that there are no pictures to prompt them. 
I see my eight-year-old self on a date with my dad to the theatre to see a play (either Suessical the Musical or The Sound of Music). Without a whisper of a self-conscious thought I jump out of the car all dressed up for the occasion feeling pretty, confident and jittery with excitement.  
Then I see me on the playground during Grade 1 recess, leading a game of cowboys vs. wild horses (my imagination had been sparked by the movie Spirit) and helping to settle a conflict between my classmates.
And I wonder: where did that confident, outspoken little girl go?

~

Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury is one of those unassuming little books that contains priceless treasures. I read it over three months ago and the characters and themes continue to impact me. At its heart its a story about the mingling of age and time; a celebration of what it means to live. In one chapter an elderly lady is hording memorabilia from her past and trying in desperation to prove to the neighbouring children that she was once young herself. They refuse to believe her, and only after her most cherished photograph of her younger self is stolen does she realizes that,

"No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now."

I think that's what it means to grow old gracefully. Staying young at heart but not fighting the current.  As Scott F. Fitzgerald famously concludes in The Great Gatsby, people are like "boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." 
But while Fitzgerald's words are poetic and true, they leave me with a sense of hopelessness. I know I'm not old but I already find myself beating against the current and I don't want to get in the habit of living like that. How tiring!
I'm learning that childhood innocence and vivacity are beautiful things but that there is also beauty in the wisdom and experience that comes with age. 

"When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a (woman), I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known." - 1 Corinthians 13:11-12

21 Things .01

I'm back!

I don't usually do much for my birthday but the other day as I was thinking about turning 21 at the end of the month I thought, why not record a handful of my experiences and musings as an advent for the year ahead? 21 snapshots to share!
Here goes... :)

Upon the Threshold

Back in December I was completing my first semester of college and experiencing an odd combination of anticipation and dread. Dread because - as one of my profs pronounced it -"the great and glorious" week of exams had arrived (it really wasn't that dreadful, although I wouldn't call it "glorious" either!). Anticipation because I was only a few days away from my Christmas break which meant returning to the dear ol' Island and and my family.

Time is such a curious thing. 
During that week it languished in slow motion, oblivious to my silent requests to hurry up, and yet at the same time it rushed by in a whirlwind of studying, goodbyes, and events. Time isn't consistent but at least its reliable and eventually I found myself writing the last page of my last exam (Intro to English Lit), trying not to let my mind wander to my dad waiting patiently in the car outside or the ferry we needed to catch.

At the bottom of the page there was a bonus question; an invitation to write a haiku about my present thoughts or emotions.  It only took me a moment and I certainly felt the little poem more than I thought it...

In the crisp, cold air
I stand upon the threshold
Of the warmth of home.

Home. A haven. A place to recuperate. A place of solace where I know I'll be listened to and where I'm free to express myself.

What struck me that week on the cusp of the holiday season was how my happy emotions in regards to returning home were often contrasted by the mixed ones of many of my fellow classmates. Not everyone can associate home with warmth and my heart aches for those who return home with such uncertainty.

The older I get the more aware I am of the gift that my family is to me. We're not perfect but I'm thankful beyond measure for my parents and sister who have seen me at my best and worst and continue to love, support, comfort, and refine me.