Oh blissful edge of darkest sea
all tumult, foam and fury
Where do thoughts endless go
to meet their death?
Blackest thoughts of rot, decay
down to the depths are cast,
a ferment for future growth.
Rest. Your time is not now.
Oh blissful edge of darkest sea
all tumult, foam and fury
Where do thoughts endless go
to meet their death?
Blackest thoughts of rot, decay
down to the depths are cast,
a ferment for future growth.
Rest. Your time is not now.
Today I read an article on the neuroplasticity of the brain.
"Your brain is an instrument of limitless potential in constant flux. Research across the fields of neuroscience, neuroimmunology, neurometabolism, psychology, behavioral science, neurology, and psychiatry all point to the same conclusion: You have the tremendous opportunity to change yourself for the better when you take agency over neuroplasticity and chart your brain’s future." --By Dr. Austin Perlmutter
And I couldn't help but chew on how whatever I'm ruminating on shapes my brain. Philippians 4:8 anyone?
"Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies." (The Message)
Crazy how science and God line up eh?
Right now I'm in a fight to fill my mind with truth and beauty when in life I'm feeling all things January. I'm trying to thread the needle of looking at the real hard things with clear eyes while still holding on to hope, joy, peace and yes, beauty. This is not easy. Cancer is ugly. It wants to take up all the oxygen in the room, all the space in the brain. Every minute of every day I'm fighting back against this. I'm releasing my grip and allowing God to do the heavy lifting, breathing in the oxygen of His word, his lightness of being to replace the heaviness and the dark. (Also, how cool to be worked into God's most excellent harmonies! Yes please.)
Did I mention this isn't as easy as it sounds? I did? Ok, well, back to work then.
I awoke this morning with a word on my tongue left over from a shadowy world that played like the highlight reel of an epic movie. Mind groggy and brain slow moving I reached for the word before it crumbled to ash just as I got to it. Gone.
What was it, I wonder? That singular word that had the power to change worlds, alter realities and usher my conscious into light filled realms of joy and glory. If only I had retained it.
And now? Just the ordinary day stretched out before me. No deep sense of rightness with the world, no bursts of glorious light as music swells, just today.
I have an exceptional need to be ordinary. To feel the thrum of life grinding on towards...? Without this grounding of ordinary, what framework would I have laid for light strewn days? I am weaving a trap of ordinary days to catch the outlier. In one glorious moment I shall have it in my grasp, and this time it won't escape me.
You know, being a parent is not for the faint at heart. This month my youngest turned 18 and I realize, I have second guessed myself pretty much every step of the way.
I was not a young girl who dreamed of becoming a mother. To be completely honest, I never really thought about it. As a teenager I took babysitting jobs because I needed to make money, I wasn't really equipped for the job, truth be told. Siblings would fight and I'd introduce an art project. Tears would flow and I'd dig around in my bag for a craft to distract. I had basically one answer to all babysitting dilemmas, do an art project! Honestly, it got me through. Even once I had my own children crafts and art projects were VERY often pulled out to entertain, to distract, and to soothe. But of course they could only take me so far. I had very little equipping to support the title of "mother".
Somewhere around the time that Alex was 2 or so our church was facilitating parenting classes which Daniel and I readily signed up for. We were meant to shepherd our children's hearts and also not let them get away with murder. One of the methods prescribed was that of 3 chances. The first infraction on the part of the child received a warning, the 2nd a firm rebuke and the 3rd was either "time out" or a spanking, whichever the infraction warranted. I dreaded it all. I'm pretty sure that in the realm of discipline, I was getting an "F" most of the time. I knew that I couldn't hold up this 3 chances method consistently. I was going to need to do something that I could maintain for the duration and I settled on leaning into the shepherding of the heart side. This didn't mean I never had to correct one of the 3, or that I very evenly and moderately parented 24/7... it just meant that I mostly tried to hear what was happening internally in that child who was being challenging and address the core issue (if I could discern it). I still don't know if this was right. The proof is in the pudding as they say, and in my view the pudding is still setting.
I love my children. Wouldn't give up the experience of being their mother for the world, but I'm still not sure I've done a very good job with the whole thing. I can only do what I know to do in that moment, that space and time. In that exasperating, fraught moment. There are no do overs. Mistakes are made, words are said, feelings are released and wounds are often inflicted. There is only admitting fault, being humble and loving through the challenges one moment at a time.
At the end of the day I'm hoping this is what I've lived out as a parent, "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." I Peter 4:8
Selah.
This morning I made the "mistake" of watching a video on the process of one of my favorite artists. It was like getting a taste of sugar after weeks, months, of abstaining. Instantly I feel the lurch in my gut, the longing to have space and paints and paper and space and margin and freedom and all my art supplies in one place, at my fingertips. For whatever unknown (to me) reason, all the health chaos in my world is taking up all the art space in my brain. You'd think it would be an outlet, (and it has proven to be so from time to time), but mostly it's just a longing.
About 8 months ago when I thought things were just ticking along and it was kinda only a matter of time before we emerged from this tunnel, I dove back into art. It was lovely. I took deep gulps of creative air and frolicked in all the possibilities, and then in April I came crashing back to reality and closed all the lids, washed up all the palettes, left stacks of unfinished ideas strewn across my art desk and returned to the grind of hard things. Art feels frivolous at the moment. A tantalizing slice of a world without struggle and pain, where the brain is free to imagine light in every corner and color spills out laughing and joyous.
This is just how I feel right now. In this exact moment. Maybe I will feel differently tomorrow.