When you come looking for me I'll be gone.
Time is laid waste where waiting has been done.
Though you might find forever and to spare
And bring it to me, I will not be there.
I heard you call me once, so calm and clear,
As children call each other by their names.
Adults avoid such touching, telling games
And only say what everyone may hear.
Listening is lonely only in the dark;
People and business and the day obscure
Persistent shadows, if they cannot cure
Creases where thought and word have left their mark.
Flatten your nose against the window-pane.
Knock at the door, then open it with care.
You'll find a book left open on a chair,
Thrown on the bed my coat still wet with rain,
Some shoes piled in the corner, and a pen,
Dropped from a pocket, lying on the floor.
Maybe a photo in an open drawer
Will catch you eye, and make you smile, and then
Perhaps you'll speak, although it is absurd
To ask a question of such emptiness,
You'll make your invitation and address
A place as pointless as a voiceless word.
When you come looking I'll be far away.
Will you be puzzled? What, I wonder, say
In your bewilderment? Will you know why
I went and didn't wait to say goodbye?
One year while I was at BYU, I made a goal to attend every BYU devotional. They were held on Tuesday mornings, and during that block of time, there were no classes and practically no campus resources, so that helped my goal. I don't remember too much about those devotionals, but I do remember them as a weekly time set apart where I could think, or listen, or just let my mind wander. It was a welcome thing.
This evening as a drove toward Memory Grove, I caught a snippet of this talk on the radio and loved it. It's for everyone, really. Have a listen:
"Study your options. Pray to the Lord earnestly for direction. Then pursue your course with resolution.The whole gamut of human endeavor is now open to women. There is not anything that you cannot do if you will set your mind to it...
For you, my dear friends, the sky is the limit. You can be excellent in every way. You can be first class. There is no need for you to be a scrub. Respect yourself. Do not feel sorry for yourself. Do not dwell on unkind things others may say about you... Polish and refine whatever talents the Lord has given you. Go forward in life with a twinkle in your eye and a smile on your face, but with great and strong purpose in your heart."
I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire aflame, But something rustled on the floor, And some one called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
Let's lighten things up, shall we? I should have gone to Kacey Musgraves concert when she came to Salt Lake last summer, but maybe I can make up for it this year?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
And shivering-sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
I've been reading some books on creativity (that a church friend has generously let me borrow for far too long), and they have been striking a chord. Here's Steven Pressfield talking about fundamentalism in his book, The War of Art:
"The artist and the fundamentalist both confront the same issue, the mystery of their existence as individuals. Each asks the same questions: Who am I? Why am I here? What is the meaning of my life?
...The artist is grounded in freedom. He is not afraid of it. He is lucky. He was born in the right place. He has a core of self-confidence, of hope for the future. He believes in progress and evolution. His faith is that humankind is advancing, however haltingly and imperfectly toward a better world.
The fundamentalist entertains no such notion. In his view, humanity has fallen from a higher state. The truth is not out there awaiting revelation; it has already been revealed. The word of God has been spoken and recorded by His prophet, be he Jesus, Muhammad, or Karl Marx.
To combat the call of sin... the fundamentalist plunges either into action or into the study of sacred texts. He loses himself in these, much as the artist does in the process of creation. The difference is that while the one looks forward, hoping to create a better world, the other looks backward, seeking to return to a purer world from which he and all have fallen.
...The humanist believes that humankind, as individuals, is called upon to co-create the world with God. This is why he values human life so highly. In his view, things do progress, life does evolve; each individual has value, at least potentially, in advancing this cause. The fundamentalist cannot conceive of this. In his society, dissent is not just crime but apostate; it is heresy, transgression against God Himself."
- Steven Pressfield, The Art of War, pg. 33-37
Cultivating creativity in my life has also strengthened me spiritually, despite that fact that we are often taught to believe it would have the opposite effect. In reality, it is fundamentalism that is a corruption of true faith, stripping it of it's hope and agency. As I've been watching the new Trump administration, I've seen how fundamentalist and fear-based thinking seems to be legitimized in every other executive order. What values are we endorsing? What views are we validating?
"Why put any skills or efforts into protecting this thing when there are a million other fights? When millions of Americans could potentially die if certain things are repealed and cut? ...The reason the federal government wants to defund arts is that the arts have the power to make people think for themselves, and in every moment when there’s been a fascist society they try to remove the arts because they know that a painting can wage war.
...We, the community of artists in the world, that’s our job: to bring nuance to light, to open up different ways of looking and seeing. And so part of the job of supporting artists is supporting that, too. The arts, the national parks, public broadcast: We’re just all part of a team; we have to be on the defense all the time so that things like housing and nutrition can be on the offense."
If you're a writer, write. If you're a dancer, dance. If you're afraid to call yourself a doer of the thing you want to do, take a crazy leap and start including it in your personal introductions. We all have an art to share, and there really isn't any time to waste.
