The War of Art

I’d like to write about something this evening, but I don’t know what. And now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I’ll write about writing – or rather, some professional opportunities I have to step into a writing and editing position.

I read an inspiring article that was itself inspired by the book The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. The book “aims to help readers ‘overcome Resistance’ so that they may achieve ‘the unlived life within.’ Whether one wishes to embark on a diet, a program of spiritual advancement or an entrepreneurial venture, it's most often resistance that blocks the way. To kick resistance, Pressfield stresses loving what one does, having patience and acting in the face of fear.”

And while I haven’t read the book, the article that expounded upon it caused me to foment upon what my life could look like if I started beating “Resistance” and began living for some of these dreams that I’ve had, nebulous and pie-in-the-sky though they seem to me.

I became especially aware of how I am allowing Resistance – and its companion, Fear – to chase me away from vocational opportunities that are presenting themselves. They are just opportunities; neither are a sure thing (far from it, actually), but I am well suited to seize them, if I would simply put forth the effort.

Being the overly (or at least particularly) introspective person that I am, thought processes like these lead me to ponder "why?" Why do I not simply go for it? What within me would rather sit back and be acted upon by the world, rather than be that catalyst that I’m waiting for?

I let Fear rule my life. But it’s high time that stops. After all, God does tell me to “[c]ast all [my] anxieties on him because he cares for [me]” (1 Peter 5:7, NIV).

So what would it look like for me to simply go for it? To grab the proverbial bull by the horns? I’m not sure, but I want to find out.

valley of the sun

An alpine valley in the Mosquito Range, south of Breckenridge, CO. 6.24.06

I thought I'd post this picture. I took it on a Saturday excursion into the mountains. I just love how this picture makes me feel. And really, that's why I love photography - every good picture produces a very deep longing within me. If you care to take the time, let me know what sorts of ideas and feelings this photo stirs within you.

Enjoy.

A new hard drive; a new perspective

Matthew 6:19-20

19" 'Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal...' "

The verse above is very appropriate for this particular time in my life. I recently replaced my hard drive in my Apple Powerbook - not because I wanted more storage, but because my old one simply quite spinning. My computer wouldn't start up one morning back at the beginning of June, so I took it to the Mac experts where I work. They were attempting a data recovery when the drive crashed completely. I then took my computer to a store that specializes in repairing Apples. They did their best (after letting my machine sit on the shelf for three weeks), but could not recover any of my data. All this means that when I got my computer, it was literally like getting it out of the box for the first time. I had to re-establish my user profile and do all that stuff that new computer users must do. It was all very disheartening.

Throughout this entire process I've had to remind myself that my life is not completely ruined because I lost an entire year's worth of schoolwork, as well as my budget, or because I don't know how to transfer all my digital music from my iPod to my new hard drive. When I'm feeling down like that, I simply remind myself that really, it wasn't my computer in the first place. God was only letting me use a piece of equipment for a while. That computer - as attached to is as I did grow - is still only a tool for bringing Him glory. I did, after all, dedicate it to Him when I first got it, and I said that I would let people use it who were in need, or use my computer to help people in ways they can't help themselves.

So all of this is to say that I've experienced a lesson in how not to store up "treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal..." And where computers crash at random. I guess God wanted to tell me that I spend far too much time on my computer doing really innane things like Facebook. And I guess He wanted me to understand that I don't need all that past school work to prove to some future employer that I know what I'm talking about. And maybe He simply wanted to teach me a lesson in trust.

My Linguistic Profile

I was perusing my friend Melissa's blog, and she had posted the results of her linguistic profile. It all sounded pretty interesting to me. So I took the test. And I'm pretty sure the 10% Dixie comes from my usage of the word "y'all." Y'all should check it out.

***Your Linguistic Profile:***

60% General American English

10% Dixie

10% Midwestern

10% Upper Midwestern

5% Yankee

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?
http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofamericanenglishdoyouspeakquiz/

An end to the drought, perhaps

I'm not sure why, but I feel like writing. And maybe it's because of the rain. It rained today in Colorado Springs. Of course, I wasn't able to avail myself to this beauteous event; I was inside, working, doing something. I was probably folding table tents for the next conference that my coworkers go to. Whatever I was doing, I was changing the world. But outside it was raining. And it was splendid.

I like the rain. I like the idea of it even more now that I live out here on the Front Range in Colorado, because it rains so very little. Well, it does sprinkle or shower every now and again. But rarely do we have the sort of storm that really makes you feel small and helpless and vulnerable. Those are the kind I like.

I was recounting to a coworker today the storm that developed in me a phobia of tornadoes. I was seven. I was on my cousins' farm just a few miles east of my hometown, having complete first grade. Where their farm is located happens to be the flattest place that I can think of. It's about as flat as the Bonneville Salt Flats west of Great Salt Lake. But maybe it seems even flatter because on the horizon there are no mountains. It's so flat. And there on the flatness my cousin and I spotted what we thought was an intense downpour, probably five miles to the northwest of where we were. But we went to get my aunt anyway. It seemed like the right thing to do. And she was smart enough to realize that rain bursts don't rotate in a conspicuously counterclockwise fashion, the way that this particular downpour did. So we headed for the basement. Later that night, my parents helped collect all the belonging from a family's house that had been literally destroyed, blown off its foundation. We washed so many clothes that night. The family lost everything. The tornado was rated an F-5 on the Fujita scale. It had swathed a path across the plains a mile wide. A mile. That's epic. As I told my coworker, "That's from here to Wal-Mart." The power that I witnessed in that storm stirred within me a paranoia of thurnderstorms that lasted for several years.

But as I said, I like storms now. One thing I like very much about thunderstorms are the clouds that they often leave in their wake. These clouds are so beautiful and distinct, their contours very pronounced. As I drove home from work today, I watched some of these clouds enshroud the top of Pikes Peak. It made for a striking scene. I told one of my roommates that I really like an abundance of clouds. Clouds, on any mountain, lend perspective to the grandiosity of the mountain that no blue-sky day every could. Clouds are sky. Mountains are land. When the two meet, I feel as if heaven is opening up, trying to tell me something. I'm not sure what the divine message is, but I relish every chance I get to listen for it, where the mountains touch the sky.