The Importance of Unplugging

Perhaps at no time in my life have I felt such a temptation to always be moving as I do now that i'm in art school, where productivity is measured by what I make. My hands have spent the last few months flitting about from project to project, whilst my brain has strategized about how to get things done efficiently. I've immersed myself in inordinate amounts of literature related to my subject of study, and the many other subjects that inform it. Even when i'm at home and the day is nearing end, there is a temptation to clean, to organize, to create. One thing that is not stressed here in design school, however, is the need for good rest to enhance the power of one's mind and to help one set aside the temptation towards selfish aims.

Rest is a beautiful, mysterious and powerful thing. It involves a turning over of the things that one wants to control and a coming to terms with the fact that we simply cannot master everything, nor would we want to. We live in a culture that encourages us to be "on" 24/7. If not working directly, then soaking up or examining things from afar. We are pushed to immerse ourselves at every moment possible, to dive deep beneath the waves of culture and humanity and reemerge with a solution that will move both forward. Yet, solutions don't always come with immersion. Sometimes, we must look outside things to find understanding. And sometimes, too, we must look outside ourselves. Rest allows us to do this, to still our souls in the midst of a spinning universe and find rooting and grounding.

This remains an incomplete set of thoughts but is a kernel of what is brewing in my mind of late. There's certainly more to come.

Returning to the Well for Water

My wellspring has been running dry lately. For the past 6 months, all circuits have been on go, save for a quasi-respite spent in France earlier this month. Nowhere has this been more evident than in my writing, a direct outpouring of my thought life, which has been severely lacking this year. To recharge my batteries, i'm going on a hiatus for the month of July. When I return, I hope to bring lessons from a place sometimes forgotten, but much needed, in today's ever-connected culture.

I've quoted the lines below before, but i'm going to again, because they just ring so utterly true:

One of the chief obstacles to this perfection of selfless charity is the selfish anxiety to get the most out of everything, to be a brilliant success in our own eyes and in the eyes of other men. We can only get rid of this anxiety by being content to miss something in almost everything we do. We cannot master everything, taste everything, understand everything, drain every experience to its last dregs. But if we have the courage to let almost everything else go, we will probably be able to retain the one thing necessary for us-whatever it may be. If we are too eager to have everything, we will almost certainly miss even the one thing we need.

-Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island

Cheers folks, hope to see you soon!

Nature speaks Truth

(the image above is from a Global Sustainability Exhibit at the Botanical Garden that my friend Sarah and I visited earlier this summer; i'm a bit of a novice photographer, but I tried :) )

Last weekend I went on this amazing bike ride to Mount Vernon. I do not know how to explain what happened to me exactly, but sometimes when I go places and do things like that an amazing feeling comes over me (well maybe I do...see Romans 1:20 below*). As I gently pedaled alongside the Potomac and the cool afternoon breeze passed through the trees, I could not help but exhale sighs of relief. Being in the midst of nature, in some deep way, I felt more alive and at peace with my place in creation. Birds chirpped, insects buzzed, and cattails rose out of the water beside a bridge. Young men played pick-up soccer in the park, and families gathered for a meal alongside the water.

As I moved along the trail, memories flooded back of times when I was little and went hiking with my girl scout troop, or played in the woods with my neighborhood friends all afternoon. A part of me reconnected with nature in a way that I really do not do very often anymore. My time of biking and contemplating life was a good reminder to step back from the busyness of life and just listen and rest.

As adults, we often miss the joys of nature because we think we have too much going on. I would strongly urge, though, that we take the time to remember our childhoods and spend more time outdoors. If you didn't do that as a child, I would encourage you to start. When I reflect back on some of my favorite times in life, many involve nature-my family driving through the Appalachian Mountains in early fall, whizzing along the Blue Ridge Parkway with red and gold specks of beauty all around us; or visits to the beach in late summer, when the tourists had already left, but the water still felt warm to the touch. As a kid, I always loved being outside, and I spent most of my free time outdoors, really until mid-high school. There is just something about being outdoors-tasting the biting winter cold during a snowstorm when school is cancelled, or playing down by the lake looking for snakes in the "drain"-that makes one feel more alive.

Nature can remind of us of both the beauty and the fragility of human existence. We can see trash floating in the river, right alongside beautiful pink flowers sprouting in the dirt. Quite the juxtaposition. But how true this image rings in all walks of life! The themes of life and death are exemplified through plants and animals, and brokenness too-as some plants never make it to adulthood because they do not get enough sunlight or enough water. Through spending time in nature, instead of simply cloistered away in a building, I think we get a better sense of who we are and whose we are...When riding my bike last week, I could not help but continually praise God for the beauty of his creation and for the lessons reinforced in my mind as I tread along the beaten path. He is indeed good, mighty, and glorious!

In closing, let me share what Francis Schaeffer has to say about man's role in nature in his book Pollution and the Death of Man:

If I love the Lover, I love what the Lover has made. Perhaps this is why so many Christians feel an unreality in their Christian lives. If I don't love what the Lover has made-in the area of man, in the area of nature-and really love it because He made it, do I really love the Lover?

I really like what Schaeffer is saying here; and i'll let your own reflection expound upon his intended message. This book discusses the Christian community's involvement in the ecological crisis-often decrying their lack of concern for the environment-and, further, the failure of other worldviews to sustain a vision for environmental stewardship. I would really encourage you to read it if you have not already.

*Romans 10:20 for your reference: "For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse."