Srsly

I kindly connect you to Sarah A.O. Rosner's response to a statement in the Huffington Post by Michael Kaiser about the "lack of excellent art being created" today. I don't think we can advocate "too much" for funding/education/interest/community for the arts. Just sayin'.

Deep and Wide

“The purpose in a man’s heart is like deep water, but a man of understanding will draw it out.” Proverbs 20:5

Transition usually begins to occur for me before I’m even aware that it’s happening. God has not provided me with a direct calling for my life in most areas, and much of the practice of discipline in my life has been learning to be patient in waiting. Slowly but surely, new directions in my life bubble to the surface from a deep place in my soul, rather than from external “signs.”

Since graduating from college, the directions of transition in my life have been primarily vertical, occurring within myself rather than in a geographic or career change. I have been frustrated by a lack of clarity about what my faith is supposed to look like, what I’m supposed to be doing with my career, if and when I’m supposed to move, and how to manage my struggle with being completely open and authentic in relationships. When my mind starts to go crazy with all the self-interrogation and doubt, God gently brings me back to a place of stillness, and this is when the truth for my life has time and space to come to the surface.

At this point in my life, two truths ground me and have provided space to grow deeper in my self-knowledge and self-love. The first is my need to communicate through movement and dance. Words have no power to limit me, there is no pressure to conform my dance to look a certain way, and I am safe to offer myself wholly and completely to those in my dance community. I feel connected to my body and am proud of its accomplishments. It is my primary art form and most comfortable means of communication. Sharing this experience with others, inviting them to lose their inhibitions and discover a deeper part of themselves in movement, brings me so much joy and belief that I am accepted.

But what I am realizing is that my art is not the be all and end all. The second truth of my life, which provides the context for my dance, is my need for safe community. I don’t think I even realize how vital the Epic community has been to my personal growth these past three years. Its strength is in offering a warm and gentle environment in which to unearth every part of ourselves - positive and negative - to own and grow in. This is easier for some than others, but the point is that the space is there. People are genuinely interested in learning about you and helping to develop your spiritual, psychological and relational health. Even more telling is the support and understanding I’ve received when the transitions of life have directed me away.

About a year ago, I began to sense that God was going to soon move me in long horizontal directions – to new places and towards new things that, of course, I wouldn’t be able to anticipate or plan for. Many of you now know that I’ve decided to move back to the Bay Area this summer, to be with family and to grow within the thriving creative and therapeutic dance community that is there. It has been such a difficult decision to leave (not because of Orange County itself – I am quite happy to leave it!). So much growth and discovery has happened within the space of my relationships here, at Epic, my work and with other dear friends. I am scared of the unknown of this transition, of failing or feeling like it was a mistake to leave. But I know that I would regret it even more if I didn’t see this through, never opening myself up to new work and new communities. The truth is I don’t have a clear vision for what will happen in my future, short-term or long-term, and that is part of the excitement. I have a fresh canvas on which to paint, with the truth in my heart guiding my strokes.

For me, transition has usually meant losing relationships, but I don’t have this fear with Epic. Relationship may look different, but I know that there will be love here for me, and that gives me the strength to go. My community now has a chance to expand and deepen, and I have hope that with it my self-love will deepen as well. I am so grateful and so honored to have this foundation from which to move forward; the support and safety you’ve offered me has restored my trust in God. I will never stop loving the Epic community, whether I’m in the Bay, across the country, or on the other side of the world.

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.