unearthing effigies

2006 Yellowstone National Park by micah holcombe

naive, i know. images take time to form. maturity takes time and experience. i am a novice painter/ artist and it takes me ages to complete a work. there is a small stack of unfinished drawings at a friend's house that i wonder when they will be complete. there are paintings left half finished and paintings i wish i would have never given away because of how youthful they are. there is also the voice of the perfectionist that screams, not good enough!

but, it can be something truly breathtaking to watch a painting form! sometimes there is already an image there that is beautiful just as it is; and every new brush stroke only enhances it.

sometimes the painting hides itself. but with trust, with kindness, with time-- the veil is lifted. what is revealed is sweeping vibrant hues of red; draping blues and purples; highlights of yellow and white; foundations indigo and black and gray; soft and lively greens; rich and earthy oranges and browns; and a tender mauve.

it's time to pick up the brush. and tear the veil.

passion

"I too can control the winds, Sir. I have a hurricane in me that will strip Spain bare if you dare to cross me!"

Cate Blanchett as Queen Bess

at least she had spain. i have no clue how to release this intensity. some days i hate my own morality.

a solemn scrooge

(edited three times; final draft 12/19)

twinkly lights, christmas songs, santa claus, wintery wonderylands, sleigh bells, mistletoe, shopping malls, holiday sales, bows and ribbons, presents, decorations, trees, wreaths, little elves--- bah humbug. this year i could do without them all. i've been asked many times about what i want for christmas, and i don't have an answer. i want to just forget it all this year.

this year i can only see the materialism, commercialism, self-absorbed consumerism, selfish ethnocentric arrogance, and a preoccupation with a gluttonous, ravenous, excessive desire for things. i decorate the house every year with garland and candles and a door wreath, i buy a real tree; but this year there is only an advent wreath my roommate made and a fake christmas tree that stands in the corner decorated solely with silly string and marshmallows (long story). i want to sell everything and get rid of all the waste that just takes up space.

this year i can only think of something we discussed at the church i attend now-- advent as a little lent, a time of repentance. i see the depth of fallenness within me and the world around me. i sting with disappointed hope. melancholy creeps in and i respond by wallowing in it. depression calls for fire and heaven to make its claim on this earth.

this year i feel deeply alone. i am about to lose the best roommate i have ever had (a dear friend) to politics and red tape. my singleness feels highlighted by glaring, flashing marquees as those nearest and dearest celebrate with a significant one. i celebrate for them and with them though my heart is cognizant of its longing to be loved.

so, this year, i buy less for others and require less from others. so this year, i repent and confess, forgive, offer grace. so this year, i try and hold my head up knowing i was made to love and appreciate those who have shown love to me.

the advent lament does end. i've been playing jeff buckley's 'hallelujah' all afternoon weeping over brokenness and my own broken-ness. ah, but... there is reason to hallelujah. it may be a weak one right now, but it's a hallelujah.

(i've changed this blog three times. i want to be true and honest to how i was feeling but remain hopeful. but i know there is reason to hope. i cannot deny it though circumstances cloud it. like, for example, there is anticipation. and there is redemption. there is a remembrance that glory fell, grace came, and the heavenlies descended to the dirtiest, grimiest places among the broken. two arms, two legs, two eyes, placenta, and a cry; and love, made perfect, takes his mother's breast in a bittersweet embrace. this is what frees the soul from being eternally locked in a monotonous, drab existence. radiohead- no surprises- shows a resignation to life as it is, an empty happiness. believe me, there are many things i can find joy in and over. but without some kind of saving grace, it is all truly meaningless.)

advent

winter's gray illuminates
all that is fallen;
snow's silence stills
the heart's striving;
the north wind's breath chills
all that is broken;
the lingering rain permeates
the soul's grieving.

laughter
gives way to mourning
praise
replaced by lament

white cries
save!
darkness groans
sanctify!
and this cobalt sphere wails
deliver!

lenten bread
hardened by age
and arrogance
swallowed
whole,
a life's rue;
taken
soberly,
consecrated,
unveils
luminary
hope.

vientos del cambio

the air was thick
the barometric pressure intensified
and something new blew in
a nameless season at hand

which way the current flows
only the conductor knows

la langue

too many words. too little reason. say less. speak less. in fewer words, more is found and more is revealed. 'when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain' -- shakespeare

something was said directly to me yesterday when this particular individual was thinking out loud. the words were like nails in my chest; and though they were not meant to intentionally hurt, they held power just by being released. the words have fallen off and not implanted in me; forgiveness and forgetfulness are valuable tools in prying away at poisonous nails. but one learns because we all do it. i realized that i said something that night i wish had never come out of my mouth; it was on the brink of prejudice and could be construed that way. oh, be careful little tongue how you snap.

evidence and proof

I-35 the sunday after thanksgiving is a freeway not recommended to travel. after spending an hour and a half on a piece of highway that usually takes me forty-five minutes, it was already time to stretch the legs (mainly because sitting on a freeway is just a bit frustrating). i stopped at an unnamed business and headed straight to the bathroom. this particular bathroom was a very awkward one; instead of two stalls side by side there was one on the right and one on the left. i came in and stood in line at the back wall with one other lady. at the outside door of the restroom, there was a wheelchair. in walks another woman who stands to my left now that the other woman has entered a stall on my right. i know i am next; the lady on my left knows i am next in line. in walks a mother and child and they stand to my right. the stall on the left opens and it is the woman needing the wheel chair. the woman on my left knows her and helps her to her wheel chair; and i enter the stall. it is my turn.

ah, but then there is the mother with child. she is quite upset with me because she jumps to conclusions. she thinks i am a horrible person who pushes others aside in order to serve myself and get to the stall first. the evidence before her suggests it in full. postmodern thought leads her to conclude that the immediate form of evidence is in her personal observation-- that i am a thoughtless human and i stole a place in line in the bathroom. yet i know that her sensory perceptions are completely subjective. she doesn't know that and lays the burden of proof on what her eyes see. she wants to comment to the lady who she perceives was in line first but she doesn't want to say something while i am still there. she attempts to comment and gives me a nice tongue lashing with her eyes when i exit the stall. the clear and convincing evidence before her suggested i was in need of an eye-whacking. misanthropic sentiments lead us to believe humanity is going to hell in a hand basket. what the mother concludes based on her eye witness account is that i am proof of this theory. i chose not to defend myself. i chose to meditate on this experience without letting this woman know i am not such a bad apple in the hand basket of humanity. but what conclusions will she draw from this, from a perceived truth? and yet i know the truth. i have the whole truth before me, and i completely aware there is a whole truth.

it made me think how often i do this; believe one truth based on intuition and the evidence before me, before my senses. but what lies beyond, beyond the door before i entered, before my senses were aware of their environment? what lies in unknown thoughts and proofs?

there is evidence before me that suggests two (even three) completely different conclusions. but i don't see what is behind the door. i do not have the whole truth. there is a whole truth that will put every bit of perceived and unperceived evidence into a whole picture. i long for resolution, a verdict, and to know truth. but until that time, i wait with patient defiance and trust the Almighty, the maker of Heaven and Earth. for i know He is the way, the truth, and the life. in Him is justice not anarchy, peace not chaos, real truth not relative truth.