Acting My Age

I turned 23 this past August. For some reason that seems to surprise many people. The significance of age has never been something I've held much stock in (perhaps because I am just 23). I don't really correlate it with specific maturity levels, life circumstances or general peer personality. I am simply living through whatever situation I'm in right now. However, I think I have robbed myself a bit of the freedom to "search myself," as is typical for the twenty-something.

I made it my goal to finish college in an efficient three years in order to quickly transition into a stable career with a sure sense that I was being a responsible steward of the opportunities God was giving me in work, living and relationships. Therefore, there simply wasn't time for the cross-country road trip or backpacking through Europe or focusing on hobbies that, while I loved, hadn't had space in my busy schedule since high school. In truth, I thrived on the fast pace, the feeling of accomplishment as I found a place in the nonprofit world, and having some control of my life. Unfortunately, key pieces of my heart got left behind in the process.

This year, God has been taking me on the difficult journey of recognizing some of my deepest desires and needs, and showing me where I need to create boundaries. It has been easy to say "yes" to helping people out, working extra hours, giving another donation, and volunteering, even for things I didn't have time or even great passion for. It has been hard saying "yes" to taking quality time to be alone, taking a vacation, returning to music and dance, and really listening to my heart.

My heart often seems like a stranger. It never feels like enough, it reminds me of my guilt, shame and fear, and wants to take me places that are frightening and unknown - and yet are where I most desire to go. Thankfully, God knows that my heart holds so much more and has been working in my life to help me know that, too.

In June, my grandfather passed away. While I had never felt especially close to him, he was a fixture at family events with his forthright opinions on politics and religion, and was the patriarch of our large and lively Bay Area family. So needless to say, it shook us all up when he died suddenly of a heart attack. I had scheduled a short vacation that same week, so I had the luxury of spending some extended time with my family. After some of the dust settled, my brother, sister and I went camping for a couple of days in Santa Cruz, and we needed it more than we knew after feeling the pressures of school, work and family. We played in the sand, went hiking in the woods, and just enjoyed the peace of doing nothing. I felt an opportunity to just be, and soak up life with joy and enthusiasm. It was during this trip in Santa Cruz that I was faced with the blunt reality that the life I was living was not the one intended to last me the rest of my adult life. My heart wanted a voice again, and it wanted to move on.

I returned to the Bay Area later that month for my grandpa's memorial service. My mom's whole family is musical, and one of my grandpa's favorite things was corralling the family at Christmas to play and sing carols as an ensemble. So for the service, cousins, sisters and brothers once again assembled to perform my Grandpa's favorite Christmas carol. I had picked up my flute just a handful of times since high school, so I wasn't expecting much. But the joy and energy I felt upon playing again was infectious. So as soon as I returned to Southern California, I began looking for local community orchestras and wind ensembles. I stumbled across the modest but welcoming Fullerton Symphony, decided to audition, and have been playing my flute merrily with them since. While I am sad that my grandpa won't be a presence during the holidays this year, I am so grateful for the chance his passing gave me to fall in love with playing music again. It has always been such a simple part of my life, but a very life-giving part.

Those sweet times with my family this summer opened the flood gates. I wanted to explore those parts of myself that had long been made second priority, and uncover the heart that had been ignored in the business of work and maintaining stability. I wanted my time to dream as an idealistic, uncertain but passionate soul searcher - to be young!

I have to be honest - it's been really hard. The simple questions, "What do I love?" and "What do I want?" have unearthed years of guilt, shame and fear brought on from broken relationships, rejection and feeling like I wasn't enough for others, God or myself. I am still sitting in this place, wondering what God is trying to show me in all of it. But I so strongly believe that this is what God wants for me - to know my heart and to call it good. To know that he loves and supports me. To know that he wants me to dance, to play music, to love what I do rather than finding it a burden, and to trust him with my fears.

I am sad to say that this journey will likely take me away from Southern California, and Epic. But I am excited to say that I feel closer to some kind of "calling" than I ever have. So be patient with me, friends, if I seem disconnected or even flaky. God is healing my heart, and it is taking every fiber of my being to stick with it. But I have hope for a beautiful and life-giving future, and want you to join me in it.

Review: Exit Through the Gift Shop

"The World's First Street Art Disaster Movie"

This is a documentary about street art… sort of. This documentary poses the question, “What is art?”… sort of. This documentary is a first-time film for the internationally renowned artist/prankster Banksy… sort of. This “documentary” about the gleeful pranks of the stars of the graffiti world feels like a monumental con in itself.

Right, so, you need to see this film. But if its tagline and playful trailer are not sufficiently intriguing to get you in the theater, let me attempt to provide a premise so you have some idea what you’re walking into.

While set in the secretive and mischevious world of street art, this film is really about one man - Terry Guetta. Terry is obsessed with filming every facet of his life, and is rarely found without his camera. His obsession finds a focus when he visits his cousin, who just so happens to be a street artist named Space Invader, who is famous for constructing and posting small tile artworks featuring creatures from the video game that birthed his name. This culture fascinates Terry, and he becomes determined to meet and film other infamous street artists.

As these interactions occur and Terry becomes immersed in this new world, it is assumed that he will eventually make a film about street art. This allows him unprecedented access to artists who are otherwise camera-avoidant and wary of any “intruders.” The footage captured of these artists at work is fascinating, and provides a unique opportunity for us to go along on their adventures. The one artist who continues to elude Terry is Banksy. But their mutual acquaintances from the street art world set a collision course for their meeting.

Bansky allows Terry to tag along on a few of his endeavors, including an unbelievable stop at Disneyland. Finding Terry to be trustworthy, Banksy decides the time is right for a documentary about this art form to materialize and encourages Terry to finish the film. After long hours of zealous editing, Terry sends Banksy his masterpiece, upon which Banksy discovers that Terry may not actually be a filmmaker, but rather “someone with mental problems and a camera.” Hoping to salvage the project, Banksy distracts Terry by suggesting he maybe try doing some street art himself, maybe doing a show or something. Off goes Terry, and off goes the film.

I will not elaborate much further because the situation only becomes more delightfully ridiculous. Banksy has clearly found a new canvas in Terry to ridicule those who blindly follow the “next big thing” and have commodified street art. Whether Terry’s journey is wholly truthful or just another of Banksy’s elaborate hoaxes remains to be determined, but I really don’t care if I ever find out. It’s a wonderfully made film that allows an intimate peek into the street art world while inspiring discussion about what art is and its role in society - and a jolly good time to boot. 

Bonus: I found this extended "sneak peek" of the film - it's a similar summary to what I just told you, but with the added visual effect. 

Touchy-Feely

I’m assuming most of you have heard of the “Love Languages” personality test – discovering how you primarily express and interpret love through one of five key means: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, or Physical Touch. The first time I was asked to identify my primary love language was when I was a Resident Assistant in college, during one of our staff meetings. I knew right off the bat that Physical Touch was mine, but I felt awkward about sharing this and lied. I never really thought much of that lie, as all four other languages applied to me in some way. But the difficulty to express my need for physical touch was pre-existing and remains a struggle for me.

I don’t know much about child psychology and development, so the details are fuzzy on why and when my need for physical connection started. My family wasn’t ever really touchy-feely. We would occasionally give each other hugs and, up until awkward Junior-High Jessie refused to let him, my Dad tucked me into bed and gave me a kiss on the cheek every night. But we weren’t a “cuddly” or “kissy” family, and I certainly never was with my siblings. I was, however, always movement-oriented – dancing, skipping, singing, digging in the dirt, enthusiastic finger-painting, etc. It felt natural to express myself and “work things out” physically. But my movement has always been introspective and solitary; it wasn’t until I began dancing in high school that I really felt the need to share movement and contact with other people, and I’ve never really learned how to ask for it.

I think part of the difficulty came from my surrounding Christian culture. I think there is a tendency for Christians to shy away from physical touch for fear of being misunderstood and having contact interpreted as an inappropriate violation of boundaries, especially between members of the opposite sex. It used to make me laugh to read notes on “front hugs” vs. “side hugs” and overhear conversations between students on my floor discussing the various stages of a relationship when holding hands, cuddling and kissing were permissible, if ever. It’s not surprising, considering the amount of publicity given to sexual misconduct within the Church, but I think we can often go beyond being cautious to becoming paranoid. I cannot tell you how many times I heard talks on sexuality and the importance of purity during Chapel services or group Bible studies, without ever acknowledging the need that human beings have to be touched, and explaining how to nurture that need in a way that honors and encourages each other. We were consistently taught about the dangers of physical contact, but rarely about its opportunities for safety and comfort.

For me, physical contact is a reminder of someone’s presence in my life. Sometimes words just fall flat when you are in pain – you can talk about a problem until you’re blue in the face, but it’s not until someone stops and gives me a hug that I begin to believe they actually empathize with me. Not everyone may be at a place where physical contact is healing for them, especially if they have experienced related trauma. I too have found seeking out physical connection to be really hard; it’s been a slow journey from awkwardness to openness. But for me, it is because I have experienced abusive physical contact that positive, loving contact is so important to me. I can feel God’s love for me in profound ways during those moments.

I recently tried Contact Improv for the first time, and I think it is a dance form that was born for people like me, as its primary feature is close, unrestricted physical contact between dancers. The dance plays with gravity and shared body weight, while constantly maintaining a point of contact between dancers. While the mechanics of this dance form help to develop trust between dancers and provide some fun play time with physics, the philosophical roots of this dance form are what I find so strongly attractive. Its focus is on safety and human connection; dancer John Bainbridge describes it as, “A place where people feel safe. Safe to explore their bodies, their relationship to gravity, and their relationship to other bodies.” The movement is entirely improvised, so dancers are encouraged to pay attention to their comfort levels and only do what feels safe and comfortable for them. When I went to my first class on Contact Improv, the instructor explained that we are each responsible for taking care of our own bodies, and thus remaining aware of both verbal and nonverbal communication between dancers is very important. This process allows me to explore my boundaries, a truly therapeutic and “soul-searching” experience. When I walked out of my first class, I felt rejuvenated in body, mind, and spirit, having had a chance to express my needs to others around me, as well as to God.

I think the beauty of becoming more aware of your “love language” is the invitation you give God to express his love. God speaks to us in languages we are familiar with. It might seem contradictory to believe that God - a spiritual being - could connect with human beings in a physical way, but I fully believe he does. Jesus Christ was continually in physical contact with people as a means of healing and service, and the early church believers continued his ministries of touching and healing. For me, God’s expression of physical love occurs through dance, through contact with other people, and through experiences I can best describe as subtle “pulses” that go through my body when I know God’s truth and beauty. It’s important to pay attention to those experiences that make us feel alive and loved, which is why I plan to return to the Contact Improv classroom and see what other weird and wonderful ways I can show love and receive love through that special body-mind connection.

Out of the Lunchbox

Ed Bruske has long been an advocate for "slow food," and decided to step into the world of school lunch production to observe how food is prepared. He spent a week in the kitchen at H.D. Cooke Elementary School in Washington D.C., and wrote a six-part follow-up about what he observed. It's a great read! 

The Wooden Floor at REDCAT

I've said it before and I'll say it again: you should come to this awesome event!

I'll be at both performances if you're looking for a familiar face. :)

The Wooden Floor promises a rare experience as three of the nation’s most interesting experimental choreographers create new work in partnership with 73 low income youth.

About the Dances

Although sentimental it is not, do expect to be moved by Nami Yamamoto’s Flying With My Shooting Stars as she strikes with searing, compassionate images. Yamamoto invites puppeteer Lindsay Abromaitis-Smith and the enigmatic puppet Tony to collaborate in the dance. It’s a revealing combination of uncanny depth and warmth with silences that speak loudly.

Mark Haim revives his first commission for The Wooden Floor, titled Los Angelitos. Intricate and galvanizing, in Los Angelitos dancers write their names with their heads as they communicate in another language. They bond through adversity with gentle touches that last.

Melanie Rios Glaser presents a world premiere in which she deconstructs and re-assembles the nuances in the lives of these fascinating teenagers teasing out how pop culture has influenced their talk, their walk and their song.

About the Choreographers

Mark Haim is a Fulbright Senior Specialist and has choreographed over 90 dances since he graduated from the Juilliard School in 1983, including works for Nederlands Dans Theater, Ballett Frankfurt, the Limón Dance Company, and the Joffrey Ballet.

Nami Yamamoto graduated from New York University in 1993 with a MA in Dance Education and since then, her work has been presented internationally, including most recently in Ukraine. She is proud to be a 2006 Creative Capital Grantee and serves as an artistic advisory member of Danspace Project.

Melanie Ríos Glaser, Artistic and Executive Director for The Wooden Floor, received her BFA from the Juilliard School in 1994. She was named a Kennedy Center Fellow in 1998 and a Fulbright Scholar during 2003-2004 for her work in dance improvisation. Her work has been performed in Mexico and Central America , France, Colombia, Brazil, Philadelphia New York and elsewhere.

Two nights only

January 15 & 16, 2010 at 8:30pm

Roy and Edna Disney / Cal Arts Theater

in Walt Disney Concert Hall complex

631 W. 2nd Street,

Los Angeles, CA 90012

General Admission $20, Students $10

Tickets are available online at

http://www.redcat.org/event/wooden-floor

Getting In Sync

I've never really made New Year's resolutions. I attempted to a couple of times in junior high and high school - purely out of cultural obligation - creating a list of goals like getting eight hours of sleep every night, drinking the standard eight cups of water a day, etc. They didn't really have anything to do with my personal growth and true aspirations I had for the year. So I gave them up and haven't really tried to make resolutions again, until now.

2009 was a fast, difficult year, as was 2008. I was reminiscing with my brother over the holidays about high school. I can't believe that this year marks five years since my high school graduation. And yet, so much has had happened in that span that I can't believe it's only been five - it seems more like ten! My life during those years has been a blur in every possible way, and frankly it doesn't feel good.

Reaching 2010, I feel like I'm coming out of the past few years with a hangover. I am worn out, nursing a spiritual headache, and uncertain of where things are going. I don't really want to rant on about the specifics of what caused this and what led to that, nor do I want to lay out a revolutionary plan for how I'm going to turn my life around. I want to let it go - and figure it out one step at a time. 

All my life, I've dreamed of how much better my life would have been if I could just go back in time and fix this or that, while also becoming obsessed with planning out the future. I don't want to do either of those things anymore; I miss out on the present - that which will be my past to regret or accept, and my future that won't get any better if I keep failing to take advantage of the good that is now.

So this year, I'm making resolutions. Not a concrete list of rules and measurements, but goals for my personal growth that I'd be proud to look back on in 2011. Even if life remains a blur whizzing by at the speed of light, I think that building and strengthening roots, with Jesus Christ as my guide, can keep me grounded in who I am and hope to be.

So here I go:

• Learn more about Jesus Christ, on both a personal and academic level. I have had a hard time calling myself a Christian and identifying with the Christian community. Who am I, in this strange religious identity? I want to stare into the face of Jesus, and know him.
• Keep on cooking! When I became a vegetarian, I began learning how to prepare my own food, falling in love with the entire process of knowing where my food comes from, trying out new ingredients, and making food that is healthy for me and the environment - and amazingly delicious! I love how food brings people together, and provides an opportunity to be so hands on in justice and environmental issues.
• Pursue health. I'm worn out and busy, busy, busy. My body takes the heat every day, as evidenced by the many times I was sick last year, and my mind and spirit degrade along with it. I want to be better in tune with the needs of my body, and make the extra effort to address them. I neglect this often - partially because I am young and don't see the consequences yet. But I don't want them all to come crashing down on me someday. I need to build that stronger physical foundation now, for the future and the day-to-day.
• Still the pendulum swing between my extroversion and introversion. I worry about whether I'm reaching out to people enough and not letting myself hide from them, while also feeling overburdened by constantly being around people. I don't have a clear picture of what it means to experience restful solitude. I think I would benefit from just taking a chill-pill and doing what feels natural. Do I need to say "no" to this get-together? Do I need to share this struggle with another person? What brings me joy? What tears me down? Again, it's all about getting in sync with my needs.
• Simply - take it one step at a time, finding strength and joy in the truth that God is by my side.