Celebrating what is

Life is good.

I have been enjoying it quite a lot lately.

And I feel the need to point this out (mostly to myself) because I have spent so much of the past not enjoying life. Beyond a handful of months there have been very few extended periods where I have appreciated life—embracing what is going on in and around me with open arms and spirit.

It is hard to put into words the joy that comes over me when I realise how… dare I say it… happy and grateful… I am with my life.

Recent days have not been without their stresses and strains. Between full-time study, paid work, volunteer work and starting to try my hand at a few short writing pieces, life is very full; but beautiful. I am living at a busier pace than I have in nearly ten years. Sometimes I misjudge my energy and my body can’t keep up with the motivation that I feel, but I am constantly learning and reminding myself of the gift of that problem.

All those years of dreading life and struggling to see the joyous gifts and moments in my days. All those years of fighting and struggling against my wants and the realities I found myself in. All those years of being numbed by the combination of pain and hopelessness and affects of medications.

I am learning to celebrate.

In her book Cold Tangerines, Shauna Niequist says that “When what you see in front of you is so far outside if what you dreamed, but you have the belief, the boldness, the courage to call it beautiful instead of calling it wrong, that's celebration.” (p.178) This is a truth that I’ve taken my whole adult life to learn, and I’ll probably need to keep learning it until the day I die. I can only hope I get better at it!

Despite never having dreamed of being where I currently am, for better or worse, I am learning to celebrate—the light streaming in to the lovely little house I share with two friends, the joy of making food for others, the accomplishment of another piece of writing being submitted and/or published, random late night adventures in the city with new friends. Most of all, I am learning to celebrate my creativity and myself.

It is hard work to dedicate myself to study again. However the freedom and joys I have been finding in exploring my own creativity with more abandon than ever before has been the best reward. This is the power of art. Another reason why Shauna’s book has been so significant over these past weeks. She says that “art slips past our brains straight into our bellies. It weaves itself into our thoughts and feelings and the open spaces in our souls, and it allows us to live more and say more and feel more.”  (p. 227)

This I know: at the risk of maybe experiencing depressive lows again, I will celebrate. I will attempt to make art and bake and love the people in my life and find energy in celebrating what is, instead of wishing about what should have been.

Some poetry...

A friend suggested I share some of my poetry online. So here's two recent pieces I've written.

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This started as a journal entry in which I needed to vent about my tiredness at waiting, but it turned into a poem.

One day…

I will have a BA
I will find someone to be my best friend
and have a family together
I will be able to spend less money, save more
and not let money control me
I will make friends without being guarded
I will not feel tired
I will love someone with everything I have
I will not be captive to fear
I will have energy to live with abandon
I will not need medication to feel sane
I will write a book
and share my heart with the world
I will not care what people think
I will love others without condition
I will learn to (sometimes) leave the messes
I will know without a doubt that I am loved
Until then…

We live in the in-betweens.
(17/9/12)

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When I'm stressed or anxious or depressed sleep is the first thing to go. Night time is when I feel those things most intensely. We can run around all day trying to escape the struggles inside ourselves, but come darkness and there's nowhere to hide.

Close my eyes
Flick the switch
Let my mind run wild
The ache appears without warning
Breathe in
Breathe out
Shock settles into despair
I no longer know where the pain
Begins and ends.

Close my eyes
Flick the switch
Let the voices take control
Illusions and lies
Tell their stories
Until belief takes flight
I no longer know where truth
Begins and ends.

Close my eyes
Flick the switch
Darkness fills the night.
(18/2/13)

I am but a pencil...

I started in a new job recently. And like most people in a new role, I’ve had my fair share of doubts and meltdowns over the last few weeks. Why on earth did they hire me? When will they realise how bad I am at this job? Do they remember that I’m not technically qualified for this role, and I’m figuring it out as I go??

At the same time, however, I have been able to regularly remind myself that I am blessed. I have been chosen to be a part of an organisation that I whole-heartedly believe in, and do a job I never imagined I would have the chance to do. That is, combine my two loves of writing and social justice.

As a communications coordinator, will I be able to sufficiently put into words and design the importance of Jesus’ mission for justice, love and grace in our world; the importance of thoughtful development and missiology; the vital role we, the church, must play in speaking and acting against injustice, poverty, colonialism, empire and the oppression of others? And do my words honour the God whose kingdom I am trying to describe and live out?

And in my personal writing, how do I illustrate the hope and grace I have experienced? How do I make sense of the beauty in the chaos and brokenness?

Amongst all these thoughts, I came across this beautiful quote recently:

I am but a pencil in the hand of a writing God – Mother Teresa

And my perspective changed! I am reminded that the God I believe in is so much more creative and mysterious then I can ever fathom! I am but a small instrument in God’s display to His creation. My challenge is to remain faithful to God’s voice and movements in my life, to the lessons I’ve learned, the realities I see. And then to allow God to speak and move through the words I write.

I love to write.... and I pray God does the writing....

inspiration & mystery

My beautiful and creative friend Katie wrote on her blog yesterday:

It seems that this is how things always go: I want to write and be creative every day but then… life happens; It seems as though there is always something [else] to do, someone to see, errands to be run. Yet, in defiance of these patterns of late, I am resolved to write a blog post every day for this week at least.
Happily Katie

I feel the same way a lot of the time. I am currently in the most creative space I've been for many years, I'm finding inspiration in so many things everyday.... and yet I don't follow through with a lot of the thoughts that pop into my head. And I've been challenged lately that if I want to be a serious writer (and one day maybe even get paid for it!) then I have to do what my piano teacher always told me: practice, practice, practice!

So I'm going to set myself the same challenge and write something on my blog everyday for the next week. Here it goes.....


I have been reading Brian McLaren's brilliant book 'A Generous Orthodoxy' lately. Every chapter contains something beautiful and profound for me, so I am pacing myself to one or two chapters a day. Sometime last week I came across the following quote, and have been reflecting on it ever since:

"To address the issue of a truth greatly reduced requires us to be poets that speak against a prose world." Walter Brueggemann quoted in Brian McLaren's 'A Generous Orthodoxy'

McLaren believes, as do I, that in many parts of the Christian community today the 'Truth' is not alive in the vibrant and dynamic way that it should be. Our call is to speak against this. How then can I be a poet in a prose world?

The most profound way I understand is to be open to the mysterious, paradoxical, messiness of our faith and belief; to acknowledge we misunderstand and don't begin to understand so much. This is the faith I want to seek to live today...

McLaren quotes a Catholic chaplain as saying this:

[when one] attempts to convey something of God's holy otherness he tries one earthly simile after another. In the end he discards them all as inadequate and says apparently wild and senseless things meant to startle the heart into feeling what lies beyond the reaches of the brain. Something of the kind takes place here: 'Eye has not seen nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man, what things God has for prepared for those who love him.' (1 Cor. 2:9) These realities beyond understanding can be brought closer only by the overthrow of everything naturally comprehensible. Flung into a world of new logic, we are forced to make a genuine effort to understand. A Generous Orthodoxy, 153-54.

May we all experience God's holy otherness in new, mysterious and profound ways, that we might be drawn closer to Him.