identity

i have not written any poetry for months, which for me, has been strange. certainly i have had my share of dry spells, as i think every writer/poet does, but this has not been a dry spell, this has been something else. it began a few months ago, when i noticed that every time i attempted to write poetry, it felt, well, nauseating, as though i had opened a plate of leftovers that still looked and smelled edible, but when i put a spoonful in my mouth i discovered it was one day past it's "best if consumed by" date. it was awful! so after this happened several times and i had created and deleted no more than a few lines of poetry, i decided to put writing aside until i figured out what was going on.

perhaps some non-poets would have difficulty understanding why not writing for several months would seem strange and even bother me, well, let me put it this way: nearly every person has something they do that they believe defines them or gives them their identity, whether that something is their job, or being a parent, student, volunteer, athlete, artist, etc. and if, for whatever reason, these people can no longer do what they have been doing, even for a few months, it is often frustrating, frightening, and sometimes, it hurts a hell of a lot too.

after the first couple of weeks of not writing poetry, i kept waiting for those feelings to come, but strangely, they never did. in fact, during this short time of not producing any creative writings, i found it strange indeed, but overall, i have been okay. content, even. and that in itself has been weird.

when i finally decided to survey just what was going on inside of me, i was able to see some very interesting things. first off, when i create poetry, it comes from a dark place inside of me. ever since i was a teen and delved into poetry and journaling, i wrote from an injured, angry, morose and darkly seductive chamber in my soul. not that that is bad, because i know that writing poetry has been an effective way to express my toxic emotions and it has rescued me, many times, from self-destruction.

but over the past couple of years, i have been going through intense recovery, bringing into the light my deepest pains, fears, and illusions. in the light of truth they have been examined, dealt with and healed. with the absence of my pain and fears, the dark place in me became empty except for some old photo albums stacked neatly in the corner. my need to visit the room disappeared. however, when i attempted to write poetry, i would, out of habit, open that creaky door, enter the room and flip through the pages of painful memories in order to try and stir-up something to write about, and it felt uncomfortable, sickening, and just plain unnecessary.

the discomfort i was feeling was also because i had been mis-using my God-given talent by placing my identity in it.* i was a poet -that was my identity- and winning awards and being published felt like validation. but of course, the satisfaction was fleeting, for in my mind, winning awards set the bar (for myself) really high, which in turn caused anxiety: what if my poetry was criticized or rejected? what if i never got published or awarded again? since my identity was in my poetry, i believed that meant any criticism or rejection was really about me.

throughout these past two years of recovery, i have been learning about and experiencing God's unconditional love for me, and i am just now beginning to understand that my identity is not in anything i do or don't do. my identity is something far more precious and wonderful. who i am has nothing to do with my own efforts or choices or striving. it has nothing to do with my successes or failures. whether i write poetry, blogs, a memoir, or nothing at all, whether i am recognized with awards or publication, or if i am rejected by a million editors, it doesn't define who i am.

i believe that in my spirit i somehow knew all of this, and that's why i have been okay with not writing. in my spirit is where Christ resides, and in his love is where i am finding my true self.

this blog is actually the first thing i've written that feels good to write. perhaps, if God is willing (and i believe he is) i will soon be writing poetry again too, although i know my writing process is going to be different since it will be coming from a new place, full of light, truth and life. and i'm looking forward to it.

For once you were full of darkness, but now you have light from the Lord. (Ephesians 5:8)

*i am not saying that God was angry at me or something --i'm not one to be duped by religious guilt and condemnation, but that's a blog for another day.

a star has died: some thoughts on Michael Jackson's passing

when i was 10 years old, i worshiped Michael Jackson. the night when the Thriller video first aired, my 5th grade friends and i gathered around my family's big, wood-paneled television to watch it, and we were in awe!

when my own son, Jonah, turned 10, history repeated itself. somehow, Jonah got a hold of a DVD collection of Michael Jackson's videos, and before i knew it, he was worshiping Michael too: moon-walking in the kitchen while singing "Billy Jean in not my lover," and then creating a single, silver glove (from a black-knit glove, glue and silver glitter) which he proudly wore out in public (further proof that he is indeed my son.)

Jonah is now a few short months from turning 14 (as he keeps reminding me) and he was not happy to learn of Michael's passing. together we watched Mtv's Michael Jackson tribute, complete with all the music videos, television performances and concerts Michael was ever in, plus comments of current artists who had something to say about Michael's death. we enjoyed hearing the songs and watching the videos of MJ that we had come to love, but seeing so many wonderful moments from Michael's past, i got to wondering: did Michael create any new songs or videos in the last ten years? when was the last positive, public appearance i'd seen of him? if there were any, i was unaware of them.

the only things in the media that i can recall of Michael in the past decade are negative: accusations of sexual misconduct with children and late-night talk shows making jokes about such; the photograph of him holding his baby over a balcony ledge, and tabloids proclaiming he had a prosthetic nose that was soon to cave-in from too much plastic surgery.

i don't bring all this stuff up to judge or condemn Michael. if anything, my heart is saddened, because i look at Michael's life, which at one point had every pleasure the world can offer: fame, adoring fans, wealth, beautiful women, and then, in a moment, all of that was taken away. all of the hardships Michael endured seemed to change and age him, which makes me think of Jesus' words which said, "What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?"

the other day a friend told me that something about the public's response to Michael's death had been bothering him, and he couldn't figure out what exactly until he read something that helped define his thoughts, that went something like this:

for many of us, the shining, incredible, show-stopping Michael Jackson that we knew and loved passed-away a long time ago, and the Michael Jackson that just died was a shadow of his former self that with each year grew more faint, until it finally disappeared.

Michael's death brings me back to many of the questions i have had since my husband's father, and then my own, died. they are questions that i ask myself and God about the things in my own life and heart, questions like: do i seek pleasure in selfish or selfless pursuits? what, in my life, actually defines me? who am i apart from my art? do i delight in the company of those i love, or do i seek the approval of others? do i allow God to show me the hard truths to these kinds of questions? do i trust him to show me the way to true wholeness?

i am sure questions like these came to Michael at some point during his life, and i cannot know how he answered them, but in the end, it seems Michael's heart was so sad and burdened that it finally broke, beyond repair. with all the people who have commented on Michael's death, i have yet to hear anyone say, "Michael Jackson lived a fulfilling life and died a happy, contented man" and i think that is a horrible tragedy. hopefully, Michael's death has compelled some people to look into their hearts, into their life's perspective, and maybe chat it over a bit with God.

Longings

I won't do this often (post the writings of others) but this was sent to me by a dear friend, and it discusses a few paragraphs from C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity. It is a good read and worthy of contemplation.

Heavenly Longings

We long for the day when we will put on our heavenly bodies. (2 Corinthians 5:2)

C. S. Lewis called earth “the Shadowlands.” It was a brilliant observation and an analogy that was lost on many. Yet he knew what he meant. To Lewis, earth was a land of nothing but shapes and shadows. No beauty or joy truly satisfied. Even the most ecstatic moments eventually turned to sorrow. Even in the happiest moments of life there was always a sense that something was missing, that something was not quite right.

He explains this view in one of his writings:

"Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not mean the universe is a fraud … earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing.

It makes no sense that we would miss something we’ve never had. If I lost an arm, I’m certain I would mourn the loss and wish I could have it back. Yet I’ve never longed to have a third arm. The thought has never crossed my mind. The death of my wife would bring immense sorrow and pain, but what if I’d never been married to her? What if I’d never met her? Her passing would go unnoticed. You can’t miss something you’ve never had.

Yet we all have a deep longing within our heart. A longing for a place we’ve never been. A yearning for a life we’ve never known. A desire that burns within our heart and often leaves us feeling cold and empty.

Paul explains the source of this desire: “We know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down—when we die and leave these bodies—we will have a home in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself …. We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long for the day when we will put on our heavenly bodies” (2 Corinthians 5:1-2).

We long for heaven because that’s where we will live with God forever. Our longing is for intimacy with God, not for the streets of gold, and not even for life eternal. What we want is what we were created to have. To be who we were created to be. To live and laugh and love with the One who created us to do all of that—and more!"