When Honey Sings An Old Time Song

A Feeling Partially Realized

I’ve been remiss at updating since I arrived in Chicago, overwhelmed with a life I didn’t anticipate. It’s been a roller coaster from the moment I stepped into the city: a sure promise of good things to come. 

For the past two months I’ve hardly done anything toward my journalism goals—partly due to working 50-60 hours a week at an unexpected, navigating through distractions and new opportunities, adjusting to a new city, trying to figure out my personal life, connecting with new people, networking—oh, and recooperating from the exhaustion of college. I wish I’d had time to breathe before jumping into the working world, but I’d rather be overwhelmed with a packed schedule than miss out on what’s landed in front of me. 

Yesterday as I walked back to work from my daily coffee break, I caught the scent of it in the air—that insatiable hunger and drive to adventure. I smiled to myself—never would I have thought I’d be walking back to my music industry job in Chicago! Suddenly a post I wrote a year and a half ago popped into my head. From January 2011 (half-way through junior year and serious contemplation for the future):  

Tonight resolved something in my heart that I’ve been struggling with for so long. The age old question, really.  Should I stay or should I go?

My year of adventure seems almost a lifetime ago. I came home exhausted and depleted and found something I didn’t expect—solace. I thought I’d hate every single moment of being home; instead I found comfort in the roads and buildings that had watched me grow up.  The presence of old friends and acquaintances melted my heart.  Recognition is a beautiful and priceless thing. It reminds the soul of its value and work in the lives of others. A shared history produces bonds not easily shattered. 

I was surprised the wanderlust that rocked my soul so tenaciously throughout my childhood and teenage years had died away. My life, my friends, my church, my community were exactly all that I’d ever dreamed of and this time I could truly appreciate them as an adult.  The beauty of life now seemed too wonderful and precious.  For the first time in my life I found myself actually contemplating settling down and making a life for myself here. Not moving back abroad, but staying here, finding a job, buying a house, getting married, raising my children and establishing a role for myself in this community. (I told this to a friend of many years who almost fell off her bench.)

Recently, sickness has kept me in seeming solitary confinement for quite some time. Removing yourself from everyday distractions helps you get perspective. I began contemplating where I was, what I was doing, what I had hoped to do and what I want to do. For the first time in a long time I started dreaming again. I started thinking about what I wanted to do as a child and what I still want to do now.  There’s a big ole world out there that needs exploring.  There’s so much life to be lived, so many people to meet. Why oh why would I want to stick myself somewhere prematurely? I don’t want to rush life.  There’s too much time in the future, once I’ve run out of steam or have been swept off my feet.  No need to stunt myself, right?

I’m going places. I’m going to do big things. I’m going to meet amazing people and have life-changing adventures.  I repeat. I’m going to do big things and I have no intention of trying to prematurely force God’s hand. 

Tonight is the first night in years—literally, years—that I’ve begun dreaming again. And dreaming I am. In the words of George Bailey, “I’m shaking the dust of this crummy, little town off my feet and I’m gonna see the world.” And I am. I will. 

I can hardly believe it, but it’s happening. This deep-felt desire for more is slowly being realized before my eyes. It’s not what I thought it’d be—that’s for sure—but it’s tangible in every new sight, smell and conversation. 

It took a slight relapse of trying to write the years ahead to fill the full punch in the face. I too easily forget myself and the spirit of adventure key to my soul. I try to settle the future—essentially taking out the mystery while its the mystery I actually long for. I’d backslidden even within the few weeks I’ve been here. 

Today as I walked back from my daily coffee break, I caught the freeing scent—the aroma of joy—and I burst into smiles. Even now, I sit in a plush chair at Caribou grinning to myself as I think of where I am. Such dreams, such goals, realized. Seriously, how am I here?

I never knew I longed for city life, nor did I think I would (ever, ever, ever) move to Chicago. I love how life jumps through twists and turns which keeps my interests alive and allows me to pursue opportunities I’d never consider. As I think back on my vast experiences, I’m blown away.

Returning to the office, I sat at my desk where music unleashed another wave of excitement: the album I discovered as I excitedly and anxiously dreamed of my coming road Chicago. I felt the butterflies in my stomach reminiscent of the beginning stirr of love: the joy, the anticipation, the expectation. I stepped back and sank into the sublime.

I’m here. I’m experiencing everything I yearned for.  Everything that began stirring in me again a year and a half ago is realized in the very room I sit, on the computer I type, in the city whirling around me. That tinge of love I feel is real. I’m in love with where I am: both geographically and personally. I couldn’t dream these opportunities, experiences and friendships. Every corner I turn seems to hold new surprises and learning experiences and people. Just as I did in the UK, I’m free. And I’m transforming into the new, refined version of myself.  

Chicago’s not perfect (just look at the news), but no place is. It can be lonely, stressful, and overwhelming. And I really do get homesick. But the fact is I’m exactly where I wanted to be and I’m building a life for myself here in the Windy (and hot) City.

This next year will be amazing, but even now I must remind myself of my dreams: to see the world, touch people’s lives, speak the truth, work for justice; to experience the beauty of music, art, architecture, food, and life.   I don’t know how this will manifest itself, but I yearn with all my heart that these intentions remain pure. Forget the money (though enough for shoes would be nice), forget the furniture, the car, the vacation, the concert, the clothes; forget incessant partying, surface relationships, power and manipulation. I want more. 

I just have to remember that. 

So, my first step in the sublime adventure brings me to Chicago. Perhaps the same insatiable spirit will come over me again and I’ll end up in Nigeria, then London, then Singapore. Or maybe I’ll stay here. Or maybe, maybe, maybe.

For now, I’m clinging to gratitude and the butterflies of tomorrow.

Cap and Tassel Appreciation Month

I never understood the accomplishment of graduating from high school or college. It was just something that was done. Everyone did it. Well, all the people I wanted to be around did it. 

Now that I’m on the other side, I see how naive I had been. Not intentionally, of course. I thought myself quite wise. But then again, the naive never realize they’re naive, much like the fool never realizes his foolishness. 

I feel like I’ve been sifted like flour—I became refined, the impurities separated as I grew into a new person. People always tell you how hard getting through college is. It’s not hard. It’s a time punctuated with great joy, lots of sleep deprivation, study sessions and monumental errors in judgement that you’ll never forget. And yet, it’s also all different forms of hell.

No one tells you how excruciating it becomes when you can do nothing but pass days doing work you hate, sitting in rooms you despise. The last year is claustrophobic and overwhelming. You’re stretched beyond breathing and want to run from the desperate feeling of entrapment. Not only do you yearn to get out of school and work on what you actually want to do, but as the day comes closer there’s the terror of getting what you actually want. As beautiful as the dream had once been, it turns into a monster as fear of the future becomes overwhelming. 

But even with all of the heartache, tears, mental and physical breakdowns and various crises that inevitably arise within those four years, it’s worth it. Utterly and totally. Nothing compares to that accomplishment of walking across the stage, shaking the hands of professors who have sewn their knowledge into your life and being surrounded by those you love. It’s all the more important when you move away shortly after. Having that entire community around you—the community that was your life for four years—provides comforting arms as a most defining chapter in your life ends. 

It’s one of the hardest, most painful processes a person can subject themselves to. But if true education means the changing of our character and being, then the more painful the more beneficial in the end. 

And so, now that I’m on the other side of it, I realize the significance. Graduating is a big deal. I’m not speaking at all to professional areas. That can be explored by any parent or news program. I speak specifically to the character qualities completing school instills—something that was never before on my radar.

****As an aside, I used to think that when you entered college you did whatever it was you studied for the rest of your life. Thank God that’s not true. I never would have entered the route I have or encountered the possibilities I have. And anyway, who actually knows what they want to do when they’re 18 or 19 anyway?

Personal Happenings

Because of the nature of my (hopeful) emerging freelance work, I’ve decided to re-associate myself with the tumblr world to share my personal thoughts as I enter my new life in Chicago. I’m eager to keep my personal and professional life separate to not be stigmatized for any of my personal beliefs.

That, and I want to be able to write everyday without things being too intense… 

And so, here I go. Here’s to the unloading process.

I want to vacation here

Eulogy for Dale Van Gorden

The Van Gordens changed my life the first day they entered it. I was a timid 7 year old from a broken and troubled family.  My mom stumbled across Eagle’s Nest Academy because it was around the corner from our apartment, little knowing that changing schools would change my life. I never imagined the wonderful family that began teaching me in 2^nd grade would remain a presence in my life 15 years later, shaping, molding, loving and caring for me in ways I never could have dreamed.

In recent months I’ve come to realize that so many of the principles I live by were instilled in me by my teachers. The Van Gordens were the first to show me truth, show me God’s word, challenge me and call me to a higher standard. The foundations of who I am can be traced back to those early days of learning Scripture, catechism, truth, mercy, obedience and respect.

Reverend Van Gorden’s character made everything he taught come alive.  He was the rock of Eagle’s Nest and Eagle’s Nest became the solid ground to my turbulent life. The Eagle’s Nest family of teachers had a huge impact in molding my character and holds an even bigger place in my heart. They are role models, dear friends and family.  Right now I feel as if a part of my life has been closed.  But not darkened. The memory of Reverend Van Gorden preaching Scripture in school assemblies, leading us in songs, driving down Main Street in his little, red convertible, playing with his grandchildren and walking arm and arm with the wife he adored, will always be with me. He was so fundamental to my childhood and the shaping of my character that he can never be forgotten. Dale Van Gorden watched me grow up and as I grow older, I see how the lessons he taught me continue to influence and direct my decisions.

Reverend Van Gorden was a loving man, a kind man, a man who knew the love of Jesus so much that it infused everything he did.  You could see love shining out of his very eyes. He was the first in a long line of people God has used to show me His truth, His character and His way. I look forward to the day we meet again, when the cares of this world are over.  Until then, I thank God for Dale Van Gorden and everything he did for me; for everything he taught me, for the whole new world he led me in and for the loving kindness he showed me. His generosity and faithfulness changed my life and it has changed others. He left an impression on the people of this community, on his family, and on his students that will remain forever. Thank you, Lord, for Dale Van Gorden and the mark he made on my life.

            

Forcing God’s Hand

                   

For some strange reason, we think we can force God’s hand—to make what we want happen before the timing is right.  I know I do. I set my mind at something and, dag nabbit, it’s going to happen. Now.

This definitely makes for a stubborn individual.  But the problem with stubborn individuals is often times they go and stubborn themselves right off a cliff. 

I don’t like empty talk. Give me deep conversations with understanding and openness rather than vague and vapid chats. Give me a true meeting of minds rather than a rising social status. I like to follow through with what I say. I’m the take charge kind of person. If something is really important to me, I like to get things done, get the ball rolling, etc, etc. But I can also be rather impatient when ideas remain in limbo. Do or don’t, but stop talking about it and act.  And so, when I really want something to happen, I go after it. I set my mind to it and try to make an idea a reality.

This will and stubbornness can be a great tool when, say, working to end human trafficking, or helping the poor, fighting against totalitarian regimes, or challenging unjust laws—but when it comes to the different aspects of my life that I would like to force prematurely, then, well, it’s not such a great thing afterall.  This is a lesson I seem to have to learn again and again.  I know God has had his hand on my life and that nothing has happened that he has not wanted. But when I think of the push and fight I had to stay in the UK, I relive an unsettling feeling.  God granted a dream of mine, but I literally pounded and pushed and forced and assailed that door to stay open. My gap year was an incredible time where I stepped into my identity, but it was a difficult and draining experience. In some ways, I’m still recovering.  It was in God’s plan for me to go there, but it felt like I stubborned my way into doing the things I did rather than allowing God to open the doors. Not knowing what was going to happen—if I was going to get kicked out of the country, not allowed back into the country, be able to fund raise my support, have the money to call my mom or get my cavities filled, etc—was exhausting, tiring and overwhelming.

And then there was a certain idea I had in my head about love—the life I dreamed of in my heart of hearts. And when I saw a glimmer of that reality open up before me I ran to it. Everything seemed to match up perfectly, just as I had wanted—or at least perfectly enough.  Yet, it still wasn’t entirely right.  But it was almost just as I had dreamed, and it made for an incredible tale, a tale greater than what I could ever had imagined for myself.  But, it just wasn’t to be.  I clung to it, I hoped, I fought and tried to force something to happen that should not have. In hindsight, I am so, so happy I did not get my way. At that time, I was devastated.  And to a certain degree, that fight to force God’s hand left a deep impression: a scar on my heart from the castles in the sky crumbling and crashing down around me. 

God’s ways are not our ways. God’s timing is not always our timing—in fact, it rarely is.  We are exactly where we are meant to be.  And yet, I cannot help wanting to force things to happen. I cannot help wanting to control my present and my future and demanding what I want now, even though the timing is not right.  The goodness of God and his thorough understanding of who I am—more so than I could ever fathom—shine through in the circumstances of my life. As I contemplate my journey, I cannot help but be awed at the overwhelming grace and blessings He has bestowed on me. And yet, too often I throw a tantrum to stubbornly force my will on a God who has greater and better plans. 

I have learned from experience not to force something to happen.  Every time I do, I find it blows up in my face. I am left broken and exhausted—with metaphorically singed hair. All of the overwhelming blessings that have transformed my life have occurred so organically, naturally, and unexpectedly.  And so, when it comes to love, jobs, relationships, travels, promotions, family, careers or what-have-you, why do you and I think this will be any different?

Giving up control and enjoying what God has for us in the present is one of the most difficult things to do. And yet it is the most rewarding.  We cannot make anything happen unless God wills it. And yet, how beautiful the reality that we lie in his perfect plan, walking where he wants us, and entering and experiencing his gifts at just the right time.

It’s a great reality. But to be able to fully enjoy the present time we have, where God wants us to be, we’ve got to give up that allusion of control.  After all, it’s just that—an allusion.

Ratio Is Important? As It Turns Out, Yes.

I have never been greatly interested in math. Give me the stories of history and literature, the ideas of philosophy and the beauty of art—not the complexity of music and number. I’ve always been fairly good at algebra, but never really understood the point of it all. Why, o why, does it matter whether or not I know how to multiply fractions or understand proportions? I’m a philosophy student! What do I need of these things if I intend on writing?

Throughout the course of my studies I’ve been stretched in more ways than I originally would have liked.  It’s been very good for me. As it turns out, all of seven liberal arts are important, not just the first three. There’s a reason why the trivium (grammar, logic and rhetoric) is the foundation.  The quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, music and astronomy) expounds and make you better understand the complexities of the world. You expand and use the tools of the trivium and apply them to the practical realities of the world and matter.  I more or less trusted my teachers when it came to the importance of the quadrivium.  It didn’t interest me. But I am so, so glad I listened.  Despite the frustrations and even tears (yes, tears) it has been worth it to see the world in a new way.

I’m sure many of you still don’t believe me.  Understandable, I probably wouldn’t either.  But here’s some examples that may help build my credibility.  Music is ratio applied to sound. Pythagoras discovered the musical scale by applying ratio to a monochord (an instrument with one string).  By moving his finger around the string in certain proportions, he discovered the musical scale. In the Pythagorean scale, the relationship of all notes is the ratio 3:2.  Look it up.  It’s really interesting and others can explain it far better than I. 

There’s also the golden ratio.  I had heard of this number for years and years and honestly didn’t realize why it was all the great.  This year I finally began to understand.  There is some mystery to this number.  For some strange and curious reason, it shows up everywhere and makes sure the item at hand is most pleasing to the eye.  This is why the golden ratio shows up in so much of art and architecture.  Not only that, the greater mystery is that it shows up everywhere in nature and even in the construction of the human body.  The placement of our belly button is the golden ratio between our head and feet. The bottom of our nose is in proportion to the top of our head and our chin.  Same goes for the placement of our knuckles in our hand (top of our middle finger to wrist).  I can go on and on.  It’s also in nature—the petals of flowers, the branches on trees, the spirals of the nautilus shell. Again, look it up. There’s too much to possibly go into.

I recently discovered an even more fascinating aspect of ratio in everyday life.  It’s rather exciting considering it pertains so much to a field I have recently discovered a passion for: cooking. As it turns out, to learn the very basics of cooking, all you need to do is learn the foundations.  The foundations, ironically, mean learning the basic ratios for different foods. Once you know that that the foundation of bread is 5 parts flour to 3 parts water (plus yeast), you can go anywhere. Add some herbs, sundried tomatoes, honey, sugar. It’s a basic foundation from which to build.  Technique is also incredibly important, but in order to be great you must first be good. Ratio provides the groundwork to strive for excellence.

If you have a passion for cooking, you need to look into this principle. You must. No more searching the internet for homemade pasta, stock, protein, soup or dessert recipes. No more enslavement to recipes. You think, you enjoy, you taste the food and sauces as you go along.  Thinking like a chef and acquiring the techniques in preparing food will change your entire cooking experience. Knowing the ratios will give you freedom and liberty to go to new and tasty places in your culinary pursuits.

Love Outside of the Couple

Distractions and thoughts pull my mind in a myriad of directions. Every now and again I see one consistent theme flow through them all.  Mankind has always been fascinated with the ideas of love. The best and brightest of us fall to daydreaming and building castles in the sky.  But as these loveliest of emotions fade and the mundane day to day tasks resume in their grayness, one sees the point of love beyond one person’s—one couple’s—emotional desires. There’s responsibility, there’s duty, there’s faithfulness, there’s openness, there’s devotion. However, if we fail to look outside of ourselves and our personal understanding of love, we miss the point. Romantic love is a mere reflection of a greater, grander love. 

Today I read Clement of Rome’s Epistle to the Corinthian Church. Clement is called the first Apostolic Father among the church leaders in the generation after the Disciples.  In a letter we date around 96 AD, Clement writes:

Who can describe the constraining power of a love for God? Its majesty and its beauty who can adequately express? No tongue can tell the heights to which love can uplift us.  Love binds us fast to God. Love casts a veil over sins innumerable.  There are no limits to love’s endurance, no end to its patience.  Love is without servility, as it is without arrogance.  Love knows of no divisions, promotes no discord; all the works of love are done in perfect fellowship.  

Further, he adds:

It was in love that all God’s chosen saints were made perfect; for without love nothing is pleasing to Him.  It was in love that the Lord drew us to Himself; because of the love He bore us, our Lord Jesus Christ, at the will of God, gave His blood for us—His flesh for our flesh, His life for our life.

And again:

See then, dear friends, what a great and wondrous thing love is.  Its perfection is beyond all words.  Who is fit to be called its possessor, but those whom God deems worthy?  Let us beg and implore of His mercy that we may be purged of all earthly preferences for this man or that, and be found faultless in love.

Though every generation from Adam to the present day has passed from the earth, yet such of them as by God’s grace were perfected in love have their place now in the courts of the godly, and at the visitation of Christ’s kingdom they will be openly revealed… My friends, if we keep God’s commandments in  a true loving comradeship together, so that our sins may be forgiven for that love’s sake, we are blessed indeed. 

In Chapel we often pray this great prayer from Phyllis Tickle’s The Divine Hours.  It’s words have resonated with me often in the past months.  I compartmentalize my life, forgetting that what I truly believe is seen unwittingly in all my actions. And so, I have begun to pray this prayer with new depth and meaning, understanding how greatly I fall short and how greatly I hope to see that same love Clement describes seen in my deeds.

O Lord, you have taught us that without love whatever we do is worth nothing: Send your Holy Spirit and pour into my heart your greatest gift, which is love, the true bond of peace and of all virtue, without which whoever lives is accounted dead before you. Grant this for the sake of your only Son, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen. 

Writing Release

I hate when I come to ruts in my writing. These usually occur when I—per se—take a break from the written word. I then come back, sit at a blank screen with that ever present blinking cursor and think dully.  Words come in the most inelegant form. Direct, to the point, ungraceful, blunt. Ideas fall out of my head unorganized. Such is my way and eloquence takes a while. Especially when I have not practiced my skill. 

A skill it is. It’s work and painful.  Writing is a bit of your soul on paper that makes your heart visible—a scary concept. Writing also means lots of revising, lots of editing, and lots of murdering my darling words. In a word, it’s rough. But seeing the end result of my lovely phrases come to life makes the labor all so worth it.  

Words are powerful and the way you structure sentences emphasizes or detracts from their influence. I come by the distinct problem of vagueness when I’ve taken a break from writing.  One can communication certain emotions and sentiments when speaking.  Using vague and nondescript words isn’t really a problem as hand gestures and intonation conveys meaning to your sentiments.  However, using words like “thing” and “it” and casual slang makes writing look flat and coarse.

When writing, one must fight against ambiguity and cliches. A concept easier said than done.  It’s so easy to fall back on cultural cliches, and soon you look over your writing to see something cheesy you would criticize in passing on the street. Drawing the words to appropriately fit the emotion and idea of “thing” and “it” is painful.  (And even as I look over this post I see how often I use these vague words! Proof again that practice is needed!)

And yet there’s nothing quite like the catharsis that comes when you’ve finished and can see the product of your labor. To see your vocabulary expand and immediately find words that fit your sentiment is priceless.  Soon, words flow easily and quickly. Writing becomes more fluid and you can express your ideas freely, without the constant hiccups that come when walls build. When the flood gates open, anything seems possible—as long as you can avoid cliche’s. 

Why I wait, why I think the skills remain intact though they’re unused, is a complete mystery. I am a poor, sad and stubborn creature.  Unfortunately there are no short cuts to learning a craft.  One must purposefully make time to develop a skill.  This is something I need to remember. After all, there’s always an excuse to fail. 

If I Were Catholic…

I would be completely obsessed. 

Eduardo Verastegui

Former actor, model, singer turned devout Catholic and pro-life advocate. Look him up and swoon.

The Fact of the Matter is…

When it comes to wishing for love, it’s not so much hoping for love, but for requited love. It’s a small but important distinction.  Just plain love can rip your heart out. It’s requited love that is the crowning jewel. 

Current Loves