Releasing Your Inner Cupid...or Something

Have you seen the new Hallmark cards advertised on TV?  This dull little couple sits in a car, and one of them opens a Hallmark card that plays REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore".  They remember a concert from their past and suddenly grab each other with what would appear to be long suppressed passion.   Ahhhhh......it is really sweet and very cute, and they call it "Releasing Your Inner Cupid".

This is a brilliant product offered by Hallmark.  I know this for a fact.  Why?  Because "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" was once "our" song in a short relationship I had for several years 20 years ago.  The guy was chronically angry, emotionally abusive and ultimately became a stalker.  I never missed him one day of the last 20 years, but the REO Speedwagon song made me feel sentimental.  

Music and perfume does this to us.  We never forget something special somewhere in our overstuffed little hard drives, and the senses can isolate the good and eliminate the bad well enough to make a person  feel sentimental about a stalker 20 years later (!)  Scarey, isn't it?  It should be called "Unleashing Your Inner Neurosis". 

Profound Sensualities

"The profoundest of all sensualities is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual experience is the sense of justice."  ~  David Herbert Lawrence

Say It Hot

"Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot."

                  ~David Herbert Lawrence

Seeds of Mystery

                                 

Religious fundamentalism is just way too easy and potentially wrong.  I have had many occasions to consider this proposition in recent years.  Being raised in the Baptist Church, I was heartily exposed to the Bible, and I was encouraged to accept a literal belief in what is written therein.  No matter if the translations contained nuances that could not be squared.  No matter if I did not know that some concepts could not be adequately translated into English.  No matter if my Western way of thinking was not capable of comprehension.  If I did not understand some of the parables of Jesus, Christian "shaman" were happy to tell me what they meant, and usually they meant something that was easy to get and good for the prevailing power structure of the United States of America.  

Growing into my intellect and heart and converting to the Episcopal Church has exposed me to the value of mystery and ambiguity.  Mystery is harder than literalism.  Mystery requires a good deal of meditation, an expansion of the mind and, I now believe, a mystical journey.  Ah, but.....where in Western culture do I learn how to do these things while dodging the stones thrown by fundamentalists?  Am I not wasting my time trying to convince a closed mind that I am not changing the gospels to suit my fancy?  Isn't it sad that Bible study in the institutional church makes my teeth hurt because, after all, we need to make it easy?  Isn't it scarey that normal looking people who call themselves Christians talk as if they have God on speaker phone ("after all, this or that -  which is, conveniently, what I want - is part of God's plan...so get on board, damn it")?  It wears me out, makes me want to run in the opposite direction and leaves me wondering if there isn't something more.

At Logos Made Flesh Matthew Miller says it best:

"...the power of the Gospel is often displayed in mystery, riddle, and ambiguity, instead of blatant propoganda." 

Miller's blog entry focuses on how Jesus taught in parables, answering questions in mysteries that the listener needed to solve (those who had "ears to hear"). 

Miller quotes Mark 4:10 - 12:

Mark 4:10-12 "And as soon as He was alone, His followers, along with the twelve, began asking Him about the parables. And He was saying to them, "To you has been given the mystery of the kingdom of God; but those who are outside get everything in parables, in order that while seeing, they may see and not perceive; and while hearing, they may hear and not understand lest they return and be forgiven." (see also Matthew 13:13 ;Luke 8:10)

Miller believes that this means that "Jesus taught in parables so that only those seeking the answer would understand. He was the Sower who spread the seed. But His seed would only grow in the ground that was willing to receive it."

How interesting a concept.  A seed will grow where the ground is willing to receive it.  Understanding will come to those actively seeking it.  When I start thinking along these lines I know that I need to contemplate concepts way, way, way beyond the sing-song "love your neighbor as yourself".  I need to till and fertilize and prepare my field, not yours, to understand things like winning the world and losing my soul; recognizing the kingdom in the here and now; how I can give away everything and still have not love; how the pure in heart are blessed and filled with light; how the meek will inherit the earth; how love never falls in ruins as it covers all things, has faith for all things, hopes in all things and endures in all things.

There is so much to learn, but nothing to be learned if we already know.  Can we expect much from a seed planted where a bush already grows?

Christ Victorious

From the altar of St. Andrews Episcopal Church, Birmingham, Alabama.  Thanks once again to "The Anonymous Photographer". 

Hair, Long Beautiful Hair

Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there, hair!
Shoulder length, longer (hair!)
Here baby, there mama, Everywhere daddy daddy...HAIR

Hair is more than a physical part of the body.  Clearly in the Western world, where we enjoy great freedom of expression, hair is a feature of personality identification.  I don’t know if we can even help it; hair and ego are inevitably braided.  As a brunette child dazzled by hair the color of the sun, I longed aloud to have “yellow hair” – up until the time I discovered the mysteriously powerful effects of the sultry.  Powerful effects.  Hair has power.  Samson knew that.

But hair holds more than ego identification.  There seems to be a soulful element to it, a  spiritual significance I have tangibly felt my whole life.  There was a knowing without knowing that nurtured my fascination with hair before my generation adopted hair as the symbol of rebellion.  When I was a child and Mama would cut my hair and make me get a permanent, I cried.  When I finally cut my long pony-tail, I saved and wrapped it in paper for years, as if a limb had been extracted that I could not bear to discard.  When I played the role of Heidi in a school play, for one day I got to wear my hair down and go barefoot.  I have never been more beautiful, powerful and free than on that day.

I did not know anything about the mystical properties of hair found in the Kabballa then, and I am not Jewish, but something mythical or mystical must have been implanted in the virtual DNA of my soul.  Maybe I was influenced by Numbers 6 outlining the “otherworldly” vow of asceticism: 

All the days of his vow of Naziriteship there shall no razor come upon his head; until the days be fulfilled, in which he consecrateth himself unto the LORD, he shall be holy, he shall let the locks of the hair of his head grow long.

Who knows what influences a kid?  More likely I thought control over my own hair was a symbol of freedom.  Little did I realize then that the Kabballa saw women’s hair and men’s hair differently, requiring a woman’s hair to be completely covered.  No Heidi of the Alps in that culture.

Whatever the influence, I never outgrew my love of hair.  I don’t want to make too much of it, but when my hair is short, I am somewhat a stranger to myself; when it is longer, something eternal suddenly appears.  Is it a crown, symbol, holy or just plain sultry?

Self Portraits...Me and Van Gogh

I should like to do portraits which will appear as revelations to people in a hundred years' time.
-- From Vincent Van Gogh's June 3, 1890, letter to his sister

Besides the luminous glory of the night sky, Vincent van Gogh painted many images of the eyes that beheld that night - his vulnerable, intense eyes revealed in self portraits.  What is so interesting about these self portraits is that most (22) were painted during two years from 1886 through 1888 shortly before he killed himself in 1890.

Study some of Van Gogh's self portraits at Jason Wu's Princeton blog.  I see a fatigued longing, almost pleading, in his eyes; I wonder what feeling resided behind those eyes and what he was trying to reveal ("revelation to people a hundred years' time").  Did Van Gogh know he would choose to embrace death shortly?  Was he capturing the eyes of a creator who would soon unite with Creation?  Is this the face of the end of struggle, the face of resignation, or the face of ongoing struggle in which a man looks for a reason or the strength to continue fighting the pain of life?   Are these the eyes of the stranger on earth, the subject of Van Gogh's 1876 sermon based on Psalm 119 : 19.  That sermon included the following:

"Much strife must be striven
Much suffering must be suffered
Much prayer must be prayed
And then the end will be peace." 

Anyone who has ever stared into a mirror and wondered who they are and what self resides behind those eyes, might glean an understanding of  Van Gogh and his self portraits.  .  . musings of another  stranger on the earth longing to be at home somewhere, wondering if it was time to find the peace of repose, balancing that need against the vibrant passion to continue integrating the light, color and form of this brilliant world.  Was this the struggle we see in those eyes? 

With no further clarification than the images, I suppose Van Gogh accomplished his goal.  Each will see a different revelation, but most all will agree that these eyes haunt almost 117 years later. 

I am in the process of beginning a self portrait for an upcoming Call.  I am deciding if it will be acrylic, watercolor or digital.  But regardless the media and more importantly, what will my eyes reveal 100  years from now?  What will yours reveal?

The Story Behind "Same Old Lang Syne"

Dan Fogleberg's song “Same Old Lang Syne” (see the post below) is a haunting tribute to lost love. I seems that it is also based on a true story.

Christmas Eve 1975, while home visiting family for the holidays, Dan went out in search of whipped cream for Irish coffee and ran into his high school sweetheart, Jill Anderson, who was likewise home for the holidays and on a mission to find an open store to purchase egg nog for her mom. After graduating from high school in 1969 the two had gone to different colleges. Lo, they ran into each other at a convenience store, bought a six pack and sat in the car to catch up and reminisce. The only artistic liberty Dan took with the song was changing Jill's green eyes to blue since it would rhyme better and changing the occupation of her husband (who kept her warm and safe and dry) from PE teacher to architect. Jill will not reveal whether she told Dan that "she would have liked to say she loved the man, but she didn’t like to lie.” God bless her, she says, “I think that’s probably too personal.” She was divorced from that husband by the time the song was released in 1980. After Fogelberg's death Jill revealed that she was the girl in the song, remaining quiet until now because she knew Fogelberg was such a private person.

Cool song, cool time, cool story, and the snow really did turn into rain...

Thanks to my friend, Dan Hardison, who sent me a copy of  Phil Luciano's story for Gatehouse News Service.

Peace on Earth, Good Will To Men...and Women

Here's some more Peace on Earth, Good Will for you.  The Standing Committee of the Diocese of Fort Worth is bent out of shape over the Christmas card sent by our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori to the bishops of the Episcopal Church, including Fort Worth's Bishop Iker.  In fact, they got so upset about Janet McKenzie's image of three wise women, they had to do something with all that upsetness.  So they spread the good cheer with their clergy and delegates as follows:

 To the Clergy and 2007 Convention Delegates,

The members of your Standing Committee thought you should be aware of this.

The Presiding Bishop has done something which defies explanation. This is the Christmas card she sent to Bishop Iker and presumably other TEC bishops. Given the increasing polarization in TEC (and the Anglican Communion) today, the only reason we can see for her to make this choice is that she is only interested in pushing the polarization just that much further.

The Presiding Bishop is an intelligent woman, so this reinterpretation of Scripture to exclude masculine images must be intentional. This card illustrates in many ways the core problem of the General Convention Church. Scripture cannot be made to conform to us, we must conform our lives and our faith to Scripture. We will continue to stand for the traditional expression of the Faith.

The Standing Committee of the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth

Commentary on this silliness can be seen at Lisa Fox's blog entry Fort Worth Outraged at My Manner of Life which provides links to some other very entertaining articles.  Be sure to check out  Danger! Wise Women Ahead! by Andrew Gerns at Andrew Plus and Katie Sherrod's hilarious joke Can't Even Swim at Desert's Child.

Shocking as it may be, Fort Worth is a diocese that does not ordain women.  It would appear that the image of a female magi sent by the female head of the Episcopal Church drove these guys into a tizzy.  You have to give it to Bishop Jefferts Schori.  She has spunk.  So does the thought provoking image of the artist lost in this frenzy.    

Bumper Talk

I don't usually get into vanity tags or bumper stickers because I figure most people on the road don't really care who I am or what I would rather be doing.  This one, however, is too good to pass up.  I would imagine that it will not be very popular at my small town Roman-Baptist Episcopal church (that would be an Episcopal church where the national Episcopal Church is not really honored or, for that matter, recognized as existing; rather a quasi-fundamentalist attitude rears its head occasionally discouraging diversity and encouraging leaving your brain at the door under the quise of orthodoxy). 

Alas, I am proud to be a disobedient Episcopalian.