I Used to Think

              I used to think that to be an artist, you had to be sad, or tormented, or crazy. Or maybe that it was the sad, tormented, and crazy that became artists. Isn’t that what we’re taught? Hemingway was a depressive alcoholic. Van Gogh was tormented or insane, or both. Even Lewis Carroll and the Beatles were on drugs. It was an artist’s fate, and it was my fuel. Writing for me has always been an insatiable need, a drive, integral to my very breath. Writers block, or lack of inspiration, stung like a careless word on a secret insecurity. It nagged at my fingertips, and made my teeth itch. I needed fuel for the fire, and where did I go? My sadness. My depression. My tormented mind. That part of myself on the edge of losing my mind. My darkness. I dug it all out, tore off scabs, dug up mistakes I’d buried in the dark recesses of past repentance. And there was the flame, and the fury, and the tears, and there were poems, and deep thoughts, and odd paintings, and freakish obsessions, and these were comfortable. These fit in with the world, with society. These made me down to earth, approachable, the kind of person I always liked. These tore me away from my Creator.

I watched an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine recently with some kid friends. In it, they encounter a non-linear species, one that does not live from moment to moment but in all moments simultaneously. In an attempt to communicate, they kept bringing the captain back to the day his wife died. The captain tried to explain that this was the past, that it was over, that they were linear, and this was no longer happening. “Then why,” the entity asked, “do you still live here?” That question sent shivers through my bones. Every memory, every mistake, every lost friendship and missed opportunity… I lived in those. Those were my home, food, fodder for the starving artist.

I used to be afraid of changing too much. Of letting G-d become my everything. Of filling my moments with prayer and praise. I was afraid to let Him heal the broken parts of my spirit, because I thought that when I lost my pain, I’d lose my poetry. I was afraid that the one thing I loved most in this world would be stripped away from me and yes, I would have G-d, but I would no longer be me. No longer be down to earth and approachable. No more torment, no more accelerant for my fire. So I had a limit, a wall, a measuring stick on how much I would let Him in, let Him change me, and I was stuck there. Was.

My main man and me, all packed
              for the move to College Station.

Last weekend was Yom Kippur, the biblical holy day of repentance, of giving all your sins, all your past, all your doubts to G-d and becoming clean, white as snow, a new creation. I wanted that clean slate, I wanted to be of one mind with my Heavenly Father. I thought that one could repent and mean it but still be a little dark. Want to know something? You can’t be. You will never be wholly G-d’s. You will never be of one mind. G-d is light and light cannot exist without expelling darkness. I had to let go. I had to take my sins and give them to G-d, and this time I could not take them back. I could not reintegrate them into my synapses for my poetry. If I give them to G-d, they’re gone. No longer mine. I told G-d that I was afraid. Of losing myself. Of losing the gift He gave me. You know what He told me? He reminded me that He indeed was the one who gave me my gifts. They are not something I acquired because of my pain or darkness. Not something I gave myself. These gifts are just that, gifts. My gifts were given to be used by the best version of myself I could possibly be. The version that can be whole hearted with my G-d. I would not lose it. In fact, I would gain so much more, by being the person my poetry was meant to be written by. He was right, and I finally let Him in.

So here I am. A much different person than I was a week ago. My past is my past but it can no longer control me. I refused to let it own me, and now its power is lost. I am a new creation, full of light, and the desires of past have faded. And I’m still writing poetry.

I'll Keep You Safe

    The past two months have been incredibly trying for me. For the first time in my life I've been having panic attacks and anxiety. It's sudden and random and seemingly out of the blue. I've had to lean on people more than usual, and that can be hard for me. So on top of the anxiety and fear, I've had to deal with my own personal poor me attitude that I seem to have when I'm having to accept people's kindness. I don't want to be a burden. What if they're just doing this because they're nice? What if they don't really want me here? These are thought holes, patterns I have to break in myself. I don't know if God is using this time in my life to show me that people do care about me, and that as much as I try not to, I do need people. My Rabbi gave a teaching the other day that struck me. He said that he boasted before God and was humbled drastically. I realize now that I've spent my life boasting about how fearless I am, and how nothing can phase me, and that I don't need people because I'm fine on my own. Everything I've built my being on for the past few years is gone now. I'm afraid and anxious and have needed people every step of the way. Talk about humbling. Though this has all been incredibly hard, and I've felt almost abandoned by God at times, I've never loved humanity more. People care. It doesn't always seem that way, but they do. The challenge is letting yourself be vulnerable enough to open up and admit you're struggling. If anything, these troubles have showed me just how prideful I can be. But it's also showed me how loved I really am. By my friends, and also by God. 

    People say that God works in mysterious ways. And I think that's true, a lot of the time. But I also think a lot of the time He works in obvious ways. Or at least obvious to Him. I think God has probably figured out by now that I don't understand His subtlety. I feel Him more than I hear Him and I look for Him in everything, because I know that if I don't, I'll miss something. And I know I have. But lately I haven't missed it all, because he's used my deepest insecurities, and who can ignore that? I realized a while back that I love fortune cookies. They're like little surprises, even though I know the 'fortunes' are bogus. What I also realized though, is that those fortunes could definitely be used to speak to me, so every time I open one I tell God that here's a chance to tell me something that I'll actually get, in case He wants to use it. And He usually does. In one of my previous posts I mentioned one about acorns growing into trees. That was one of those fortunes. The other day I was at a restaurant with some of my favorite people. But as I mentioned before, I'm an insecure human being and and have a hard time believing people actually love me. My friends, knowing how much I like fortune cookies, brought a whole handful to the table. I ended up with multiple cookies. As usual, I told God that I was listening if He wanted to use the cookie to tell me something, I was listening. The first two cookies were rubbish and made no sense. I was sorely disappointed as I really needed to hear Him that day. I took a deep breath and opened the final cookie. 

    "You are guided by silent love and friendship all around you." 

    I cried. It was exactly what this poor, insecure me needed. God came through and showed me His love. I keep that little slip of paper in my clear phone case so I can just turn my phone over and read it whenever I'm feeling lonely or hopeless. It helps to be reminded that even though sometimes love is silent, that doesn't mean it isn't all around. 

    Another way God speaks to me, is through music. I'm a big music lover and you'll rarely see me without music of some sort. A couple of days ago, a friend of mine posted a song on my Facebook and told me that my name popped into her mind while she listened to it. The song was 'I'll Keep You Safe' by Sleeping At Last. I cried while I listened to it. I've been a bit of cryer lately. The song was everything I needed. It was like a letter from God written just for me. In it He told me that He would keep me safe, that I don't have to be afraid. He said that the darkness would pass, that mistakes are made and that it's okay. He told me that I'm not a failure, that I'm an artist and my heart is a masterpiece. I'd recommend everyone go listen to that song right now. God used my friend to show me His love. Without people in my life, I wouldn't have received either of these encouragements. God comes through. Sometimes it takes more than one cookie, or more time than you wanted to wait, but it happens. It just takes a lot of patience and a little faith. 

    I'm not back to normal yet. I still have trouble sleeping, and the dark makes me nervous. Everything I thought I knew about myself has been challenged and that isn't easy for me to deal with. I have a long way to go before I'm comfortable alone again, but I know that I know that I know that God is going to hold my hand through every night, and every fear, and that I am loved and will have people to help me along the way.