“The mighty man will become tinder and his work a spark;

both will burn together with no one to quench the fire.”

 Isaiah 1:31

How easily I am drawn away by the allure of that which is glitteringly false, deceivingly inauthentic, or sadly untrue. Delicately packaged lies.

There is one lie in particular that gets me every time.

It’s that I am good. And capable. And can do it on my own. It’s a lie that says I know what is best, and am perfectly capable of creating the perfect plan for my life.

Good one, huh?

The thing is, friends, so often I really believe this. I buy into this philosophy.

And it’s terribly untrue. I know from personal experience that all too often, I don’t know what’s best for myself, that the “perfect” plan I’ve created for myself falls short. Leaves me lost and empty, disappointed and confused.

I need God. I need community. I need dialogue. And accountability.

And I pray fervently against any lie that tells me I don’t.

I need oh-so-many things outside of myself. Namely redemption and grace and love.

We resist such an admittance, don’t we? I mean, is it not completely counter-cultural? We don’t often wake-up in the morning naturally ready and willing to proclaim such a truth, do we?

But honestly, isn’t there some relief in it, in the confession that we can’t do it on our own? We were designed in such a way that something outside ourselves gave us life, right? Would it not feel good to recognize this truth without shame?

Otherwise, I fear this earth would be a great fire, aflame, with no one to quench the fire.

So here I am.

And I am in need.

I need you. And you. And you.

And you too, God. Oh how I need you! 

I’ve spent a great deal of this weekend swallowing back tears.

I hate that.

And I swear it’s not good for you…I swear that for every time you hold it in, it does something truly horrible to your insides.

Between unraveling relationships and aloneness and fresh diagnoses and endings, there is so much to feel and express and process through.

I have this extravagant dream that one day I will learn to just let it go. My dream is that I would let my tears flow without shame or embarrassment or solitude, that I would find a community of people that loves me and knows me and understands my tears, my need for them. 

Oh that I could have such freedom.

I am sweetly broken.

I broke through the barrier yesterday. I actually went through with the audition. And, unexpectedly, didn’t feel like crap about it.

What’s more…I got two callbacks. Exciting stuff, really.

The problem is that I’m realizing this a no win situation. Either I don’t get a part and feel totally rejected, or I get the part and feel totally validated. Rejection or validation far from a sufficient or appropriate source.

Sometimes I worry that my love of theatre is really about feeding this secretly rampant narcissism deep within my being; that it’s really all about feeding this hunger for approval and acceptance and confirmation of my existence. I get the spotlight and applause, and for a brief moment, relief from the fear that I am somehow supremely unworthy of my existence on this earth.

But if that’s true than I chose the worst possible method of delivery. Nothing is so difficult as putting yourself out there, taking that risk, standing alone for your audition, making yourself available to rejection or failure. And for me personally, I chose possibly the hardest thing to reconcile with where I come from, my roots, my family, their opinions, my beliefs…simply who I am.

I’m not your typical “theatre person”.

And so tonight, I choose to believe that this about something far grander than narcissism. Or my fear of it. I choose to believe this about dialogue. About theatre’s ability to communicate truths and to move people, to teach, to provoke. This is about enjoyment and humanity and history and remembering and learning to forget. About using my gifts for something larger than myself. Growing, learning, stretching myself. 

God, I give to you my callbacks…whatever happens it is within your good will. Either way, may this be about learning and growing and drawing closer to you. And, God, if you can at all, may the end result involve as little torture and awkwardness and insecurity and fear as possible?  Thank you, God, thank you.

I hate ultimatums. I really do.

There is this part of my being that believes there is a great deal of occupiable space in between either and or, that wants to fight against the black and white mentality that is seemingly all to prevalent in this world.

But I admit that I often assume that between either and or is freedom. A place of balance and autonomy from the close mindedness of the two extreme ends of the spectrum; a sort of nirvana for both the head and the heart.

And I’m not sure that’s so true. Maybe in reality, whatever it is that lies between either and or is more about an escape from responsibility and accountability. And let me tell you, I find  the weight of that realization far far away from freedom or balance or nirvana.

Maybe there does come a time to decide. Maybe in a black-and-white world, what we need is not more grey, but people who have educated themselves enough to know why it is they’ve chosen their black or white. Maybe there is time to be born, and a time to die; a time to gather stones, and a time to scatter them; a time to give ultimatums, and a time to answer them.

Lately, my mind has often been wandering to this one particular past relationship, a constant reminder of how deep wounds can be. The thing is, it doesn’t hurt anymore, not in that fresh, throaty-tears kind of way. It was a wound, then a scab, now a dark, mutant-like scar. And I don’t wish for that relationship to be what it was; I know that I am a well person without such a relationship consuming my mind, emotions, time, and heart. And yet, it won’t escape my mind.

Because I can’t make sense of it. I can’t make sense of what happened that year and a half, what that relationship was to him. And to me. There is no closure for me because I have yet to really process through what I learned, let alone what actually happened. And that makes me sad. It’s as though I can’t make the pieces fit. I might never have answers to my questions.

I don’t know what happened. Did I just think we were something we weren’t? Did I make it up? Imagine it? Did I take it too far? Did he feel trapped with me, like he didn’t know what to do so he just stayed? Or even worse, did he take pity on me, did he not want to hurt me, so he stayed in this relationship, pretending he felt the same? At the end of the day, did I just feel more strongly for him, than he did for me?

At the heart of it, this is about rejection. After things fizzle with someone you have feelings for, normally you’re left reeling, right? We say things like, “You have no idea what you’re missing. You’ll see. You’ll be sorry. If you only knew what your were passing up, you’d regret it. He has no idea how fabulous I am. He doesn’t know.”

But the thing is, he did know. He knew who I was. I laid myself out there for him in a way I had never done with a guy before. It was a first for me. I stood there transparently, offering myself, saying, “Here I am”.

And he said no. He. Said. No.

What do you do with that? I know what I did. I became obsessive and angry. A really attractive combo, trust me. My anger at him stemmed mostly from pride, but it paled in comparison to the anger I had toward myself.

How could I be so disillusioned to think that someone would actually find me attractive or worthy or irresistible? How could I not see what two different pages we were on? And how could I be so responsible for hurting her? How could I turn such a blind eye to the pain it was causing her?

And I was angry with myself for being myself. I became obsessed with the “maybe if” game. Maybe if I wasn’t so needy. Maybe if I didn’t have four stomach rolls. Maybe if I was more interesting or mysterious or more of what he wanted…maybe then it would’ve worked. I gave myself to be meat on his chopping block, clay in his hands. This “maybe if” game ended basically every time with “maybe if I was whatever it was that he wanted me to be”. And if that “maybe if” came true, it meant I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be whom I was called and created to be. And I don’t think I fully realize even now what a devastating tragedy that would be, to push against my call, and ashamedly pretend to be someone I innately am not.

So, Anna, may you realize and cling to who your were created to be. And may you come to understand that being with him would have meant the very opposite. May you come to let go of, to have freedom from the “maybe ifs”, in order to find lessons that heal in abundance and closure more attainable then you ever dreamed it to be. May you continue to be transparently vulnerable and honest with whom you are and what you want, ultimately leading you to realize that he is not, was not, and never will be what it is you want. If he were, it would have been to lose yourself. A grave cost, indeed.

Dear God,

I am so frustrated! Why I am so insecure? Why I am so unsure?  Instead of relishing this educational opportunity to seek answers and confirm my faith choice, I am desperately afraid. Afraid of being misled, afraid I don’t have the resources for such pursuits, and ultimately afraid that I will cave or be lured to ideas that are not of you.

Is this because I don’t trust you, Lord? Is it a lack of faith on my part? Or is this fear a healthy one? Something like insurance that I will not stray too far from your truths? Something tells me it can’t be.

If I am afraid of studying and questioning, and even debate with others who hold different views than I do, then should I not pursue it? Should I not pursue social science as an academic discipline? What is your will for my life, Lord? I feel co conflicted. On the one hand, I understand that I am called to defend your name, but am I equipped to do that? Do I know what I need to know? If not, where and how shall I learn this? Is Cal Poly that right place for that, God? On the other, in light of the fact that I must defend you hold name, am I always to be on the defense? Arguing the validity of a faith that is so personal and deeply profound? I don’t know how to do that, Lord. I don’t know how!

Ultimately Lord, the bottom line becomes more and more clear to me. What I need more than anything else is to develop a deeper and deeper love for you! And this is a development that should never never cease. I must do everything in my power to foster a love relationship with you, my holy God. And I must do this through prayer, and mediation, and the reading of Your Word. I understand this more clearly than ever. Help me to do this, Lord. That I would come seeking you, where I know you are found, and that I would make this a forever recklessly high priority. God, would you reveal to me that when first things come first, second things are not diminished, but enhanced?

But my concern is that these questions arising from academics will get in the way. And if so, must I abandon the pursuit? I know that questioning can lead me to a faith that is more “my own”, and that ultimately wrestling can lead me into a deeper love relationship with you. I know that that is possible. But I also know that when not done properly, and by Your will, that it can lead me astray, to a very dark and concerning place. And I confess to you right now that that is a place I do not want to be, Lord! Ever! God, do I ultimately believe that you are enough, enough to answer any question, enough to look foolish for, enough to bring into places you want me to be, and out of places you don’t? Oh, how I hope the answer is yes! I think the answer is yes! But is even the fact that I am asking the questions in the first place, a sign that the answer is no?

I desperately ask that you would provide an environment for me, Lord, that as I, myself, am confronted with questions/challenges from others, and that as I find questions of my own to answer, that I would seek you in those, Lord, and seek you in the right places. Would you provide gracious mentors to help me along in this, Lord, who will ultimately point me to you? Would you grant me the faith and the trust that I need to know that you are who you say you are, to distinguish what is of you and what isn’t?  And Lord, would you release me from the doubts and fear and turmoil; that I would arrive at your feet with joy, not in dismay that I do not have answers or that I cannot prove someone wrong? You are a sovereign God, and I praise you for that, Lord. I am in humble reverence at how beyond my understanding you are! Draw me unto you, Lord, that which is good and pleasing. This is my earnest prayer and petition of you, Holy God.

God,

This long week brings me to you exhausted and quick to surrender. This dizzying spectrum of emotions finds me crumpled at your feet, seeking for these heavy burdens to be lifted.There is something about arriving at thresholds again. Thinking you’ve walked twenty miles, only to find yourself in that place again. Leaving ground behind, letting go, moving forward, but then, suddenly, again…

There are places we like to return. Places we hold dear enough to pray steadfastly, that by your grace we may continually arrive. But there are places in a life experience, we hope to never have to return. Deserts that have left souls hallow. Storms that have left deep scars. And I feel as though these places haunt me over and over again. They disturb my mind and trouble my heart and frustrate my being, so as to feel very human and oh-so-distant from you. Be near to me, oh God. In my hunger, may you reveal to me my plenty. Would you reveal to me my fill? Reveal to me Your peace? Bathe me in your love? Break me of my self-addiction? Free this tormented mind? Would you, Lord?

I want to know, Lord! I want answers! But really what I want is peace. Lord, would you grant me peace beyond all understanding? Peace that would dust away any sadness and confusion. Peace that would find my spirit ripe with joy and gratitude and obedience. Lord, I call on Your name, and ask you to carry me, in your mercy, out of this place. 

Again. 

      I See My Beauty in You

I see my beauty in you. I become

a mirror that cannot close its eyes

to your longing. My eyes wet with

yours in the early light. My mind

every moment giving birth, always

conceiving, always in the ninth

month, always the come-point. How

do I stand this? We become these

words we say, a wailing sound moving

out into the air. These thousands of

worlds that rise from nowhere, how

does your face contain them? I’m

a fly in your honey, then closer, a

moth caught in flame’s allure, then

empty sky stretched out in homage.

~Rumi, 13^th century poet

Oh Rumi and I would have gotten along marvelously! And I don’t think it’s so foolish a thought to believe that we find friends in fictional places and soul mates in persons whose paths will never cross our own.

I’m an extremist. And I have yet to figure out if this is a peculiar gift or a fatal flaw. My better judgment tells me it is, of course, an equal sampling of both.

What I know for sure is that constantly swinging from one side of life’s spectrum to the other leaves you dizzy and drunken on emotions larger than life.  

And so it is that I, dramatic and disoriented, pursue balance. One of the most strangely beautiful and foreign of concepts to me.

The essence of balance is perspective. Being wholly grounded in that subtle point where what was, what is, and what is to come mingle together in undisturbed symmetry. Oh how I wish I knew where to arrive at such a point!

Yesterday I was hiking a mountain. I didn’t want to climb it. I don’t generally enjoy climbing. But I had to. And so I did. Sort-of.

You see, it’s hardly worth climbing the mountain if you aren’t going to make it all the way to the top. It’s one of those all-or-nothing matters in my mind. Why on earth would you make that disgusting climb, other than to behold the view from the top?

But the problem with my reasoning is that it’s wholly about the destination, and fails to appreciate the journey. (shamefully Oprah-esque, I know). There are more than two perspectives, more then simply the bottom and the top.

And so I didn’t climb to the top of that mountain. I stop three-quarters up. And I sat on a rock, and took in the scene. The expanse of green, the ever-rolling hills, and the gorgeous valley all look very different at the middle than from the view at the top. And I feel in love with it really, my minute triumph, my fleeting moment of balance.

And when I reached the bottom, I was once again a swinging pendulum. Rome wasn’t built in a day, as they say. But I felt strangely reset or realigned. Like I had a restored sense of equilibrium. To go halfway, and be still. It’s an astonishingly powerful experience.

A seasoned individual once said that balance is something that you swing through on your way to the other side.

I like that thought, mostly because it vindicates the constantly fleeting moments of balance in my life.

But I love that thought because it gives a glimmer of hope to extremists like me. That as I’m swinging through this trajectory of emotions called life, somewhere along the way I get a breather, a reset period, an interlude, an interval of grace; otherwise known as balance. I pray for the wisdom to recognize these moments when they come, and the strength to drag my feet through them as long they may linger.

All these factors are against me. Against me writing. Against my well-being and mental sanity. Against my own liberty and freedom of expression.  And so I’ve decided that if this it going to work, if this blog is going to be a useful/healthy place of reflection and provocation, that I need to let go of all that. I need to give myself permission and grace. And so it is with great pleasure that I’ve constructed…

A Creed to Myself
Anna, you are a gifted individual. You have so much to say. And this domain is a safe place to express yourself, free from expectation and fear.It doesn’t have to be perfect, intelligent, or even worthy of praise.But this is your permission to pursue, to evoke, to question, to awaken, to say something, AND to actually write, for heavens sake. You have a right to these things. And this blog is whatever you want it to be. No expectations. You’re free from those here. It’s an opportunity. Use it! Breathe. Unleash all those thoughts. Let go. Breathe again. Grace is here.