Tuesday, January 29, 2008

CATCH AND RELEASE

My friend Laura and I recently joked about how it often takes a lot of ‘writing things out’ to just catch the drift of what God is trying to get across; to get to the stuff that we were unaware of before we bled ourselves dry onto a piece of paper. (Well – that, a good portion of chocolate and a glass of merlot!)

We are in good company here and especially thankful to Henri Nouwen in Seeds of Hope for affirming this, “Writing itself reveals to us what lives in us,” and, “What I am gradually discovering is that in the writing I come in touch with the Spirit of God within me and experience how I am led to new places.” (I am sure he meant to say something about chocolate and merlot, but probably didn’t want to give away ALL his secrets.)

Personally, I hardly ever sit and write a song with a goal in mind. My music, art and writing are not very often a decision to create specifically about something I know to be true, rather a necessary process of getting at an interior truth. Granted, there is a decision to pick up that pencil, or paintbrush, or guitar, but even on the rare occasions when I think that I know what I’m going for, I discover something new about myself. It almost makes the creative work too personal to share – but as all art is about communication, sharing is essential.

Madeleine L’ Engle poignantly captures the urgency of the artist to communicate in her book Walking on Water. “Art is communication. If there is no communication it is as though the work has been stillborn.”

Accordingly, I want to celebrate with you the birth of a poem. She is just an infant, a little pinched looking with a face, perhaps, only a mother could love. However, I look in her eyes and see the truth of what has been living in me. In apprehension and anticipation, I welcome her, not knowing what this little bundle of new revelation could mean in my life. As you’ll see, she fussed a bit at first, but I’ve pulled her close now and it’s amazing how such harsh cries can be quieted by a simple, repeated lullaby. And I’ll tell you a secret, the ONLY song on the whole planet that works is the gentle melody of Jesus washing her feet. It seems to be without negotiation and she can’t get enough. We are both captivated and I am utterly at a loss for words. It is the most tender sound in the universe and I have a feeling it will be the one act that moves her out of the sanctuary of my arms to grow in the fullness of the revelation. Thanks for welcoming her with me!





catch and release
by angela josephine

something snaps at my ankles
a wet towel
wrung out by my anxious hands
and wielded by my guilty heart
stinging me to walk faster
cover more miles
and get with the program
until my feet are hot
and blistered
and stumbling I lose my grip
and that towel

falls

gently

across my feet

its intended purpose
found by accident?

something laps at my ankles
a wet towel
wrung out by wounded hands
and wielded by a determined heart
commanding me to stay still
rest awhile
and let go of my program
until my feet grow smooth
and tender
and lovingly He releases His grip
and that towel

drapes

purposefully

across my hands

its intended purpose
is no accident


So tell me, what has been living in you?

12 comments:

Carrie said...

Wow, that is Beautiful. I was just online looking up a lesson for Sunday School, and the miracle of Jesus feeding 5000. I love this poem. It makes me quiet and thoughtful, and I'm going to talk more thoughtfully about miracles today.

Carrie said...

Heehee - very cute comment on my blog =) Thanks!

Anonymous said...

Hello little poem and welcome to my heart and soul!
You are a soft and immediate slow down in my oh so hectic life!
I yearn to someday sit at His feet and yet you have brought Him to me!
Thank you and prayers for a wonderful journey!
ann u

Anonymous said...

First of all I've heard that poems and songs are like children to the poets and songwriters who write them. So congrats on the birth of a new child. As you know I've always enjoyed your writing, whether it be your poems, your songs or your older journals. They've always spoken to me.

The first part of this poem reminds me of the verse of a a song I just heard in the past week or so. The singer called herself "A walking declaration of everything I couldn't get right." When I heard that verse I immediately thought, "That's me!" And for me, it fits what you said in the first part of the poem. I think we get so busy trying to measure up to some standard, whether it be our own standard or some one else's, that we often forget who we really are. Or perhaps that should be whose we really are.

The last part is a reminder, to me anyway, that we don't don't have to measure up to any standard. We just need to be still and realize that God loves us just like we are. Sometimes we just need to sit down and listen. And in our fast-paced we-want-it-now-world, that becomes difficult. And rare. Thanks for the reminder. You really are a mystic.

Anonymous said...

I'm not a mother, but I love it. It got so lovely truth-telling lips, and beautiful eyes that sparkle with grace. So I did not notice whether it looked pinched.

Thanks to Mark for sending me here to read what miraculously concurs with my own experiences at the very moment. Last Sunday I read the blog "Submit gracefully..." by Mark's friend Rafiki, and the topic troubled me for the rest of the week. Now I see your baby smile at me, and all the trouble is gone.

Thanks for being its mother.

Thank God anyway.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful, beautiful. Kudos to you and to Mark for sending me here. :-)

Anonymous said...

Wow! I'm glad I listened to Mark and came here. Wow!

Anonymous said...

I, too, feel like my songs are my children, and often they tell me what they want to be when they grow up. My most recent composition deals with the biggest change in my life - getting married and moving out of state. But also, I've begun to arrange the next batch of songs in preparation for the demo process. This is when a lot of the shape of the song takes place for me. Writing is one thing; bringing it out of my head and into the real world where everyone else can hear it - that is something altogether different!

Anonymous said...

Hey You!
Great poem! Actually...I'm just finding out in the last few weeks that there are still songs living in me. God has given me the desire to pick up a guitar. Not good at it, might not ever be but...I've learned two chords that has put the desire of writing back into my heart.

Thank you so much for your blog and sharing it!
Maybe...one day we'll meet!

Anonymous said...

Good poem. To me the poem tells me to be still and know that he is God. Life is so busy and we don't stop and take the time to enjoy God's beauty. Thank you for the poem. Thank God that He is living in me!!

Anonymous said...

Communication. It’s the first thing we really learn in life. Funny thing is, once we grow up, learn our words, and really start talking, the harder it becomes to know what to say. Or, how to ask for what we really need…
At the end of the day, there are some things you just can’t help but talk about.
Some things, we just don’t want to hear. And some things we say because we can’t be silent any longer. Some things are more than what you say. They’re what you do. Some things you say because there’s no other choice. Some things, you keep to yourself.
And not too often, but every now and then… some things simply speak for themselves.

So what has been living in me as of late, well here are some lyrics I wrote during French class, sophomore year...this year, to give some insight:

Water drips down her cheeks
Mingling with the tears she's shed
Over the discordant, off-key life she's led
Looking up, in her purview, nothing seems clear
Nothing but the silver showerhead.

Her future is an uncertain blur
Her past is a shattered memory
Her now is an unbearable price to pay
As she wonders what could be sung of such a broken melody.

Look into a puddle of yesterday's rain
And see the reflection of today.
Yesterday's tears carry today's pain
She never let nobody see her cry
Over this beautiful mess called life.

Sweat trickles down her neck
As she wipes her hands on her old faded blue jeans
Slowly pen and paper meet
As she prays the ink will release
The hope the red letters mean.

Will she ever know the plans He has for her?
Will she ever see herself through His eyes?
Will she ever smile with the passion His love lures?
Will she ever find the redemption that in Him lies?


Cheers.
lovelovelove
Ej

Anonymous said...

I love the "imagery" that is used in your poem..

As for your question...what is living in me? Well a lot of things...some that I'm proud of and some that I'm not. The one thing though that is in me and that I know will never leave me is God.