Attachment, August 28 2018

Mom bought a bear for M's baby today. It made me think how children form bonds so naturally, attach, and count things precious.
I remember what life was like. I was always ready to be smitten. Ready to love anything beautiful, or helpless or interesting (even if it was ugly).

I've been considering my self-protectiveness, its survival value as well as its tendency to selfishness and rot. I form my attachments much more carefully now, but any attachment is a risk. And I feel that.
And sometimes I forget that it is worth the risk.

Deliver Myself to Each Day, August 27 2018

I keep wishing for some kind of revelation, but I think I just need to pray. I want to see God work. I don't want the incessant influx of blessings and tragedies. I want Jesus. I want to eat Him. I want to understand.

The retro rock today (Sixpence, Mew, A-ha) stirred up tangy memories. I need to remember to be young and yearning again. To deliver myself to each day.

Necco Wafer

It was one big Necco wafer. Bright and sugary and somehow unpleasant.
Stale. It sticks in the crevices of your molars. Actually bad for you, if "harmless" in small amounts.

Is there something American in me that wants to admire Harold Hill?
I guess I'm not American enough.

I will eat a Necco wafer now and then, and remind myself I don't like them. 

Passionate, Loving Portraits / August 23 2018

I finished re-reading "The Brothers Karamazov" this afternoon, which was an excellent muse for painting. There's a lot of love in it.

I realized today that painting passionate, loving portraits is like driving. The best way to serve the people is the lose yourself in the work, in the practice of painting, not analyzing all your moods and thoughts, or addressing the models directly. As with driving. If you start thinking about and noticing all the other drivers, contemplating their separate lives and journeys, you'll be a distracted driver, and more likely to get in an ACCIDENT and actually hurt people. At the same time, being a safe and courteous driver depends on knowing in the back of your mind that all these other vehicles contain human beings.
It's a strange sort of suspension.
Become a good driver.
Become a good painter.
That is the way to love people. Trust the Holy Spirit. Paint the little blue shadows around the eyes, the reflection on the nostril. Pay attention.

I think back to the story B told me about T observing his head of Christ, and being moved and asking,
"What went through your mind as you painted this?"
B understood the question but replied,
"I should put this green stroke right here..."
"No," his guest persisted, "I mean, what was your spiritual state?"
B explained that the painting process was not about a heightened spiritual or emotional experience. Those things came through the work because they were behind it, part of him, but he painted it as a painter, faithful to his work.

God, please make me faithful.

Relief, August 15 2018

And suddenly he turned a corner -
the grinding motor of the lawn mower hushed
into
the ticking clock
the beat of blood under the cupped hand at my temple
steady and persistent
as a broom brushed against a floor.
Relief
unexpected
and complete.

Healing can come like this.
Assenting, now,
today
or in a year
you will wake up aware
that you have finally forgiven.

And you can sweep the crumbs
from under the table
feeling that your heart is beating
in time and eternally. 

Loving Alyosha, August 9 2018

Today I finished "A Book for Hearts and Minds" and continued re-reading "The Brothers Karamazov". I love Alyosha with a passion. The interactions between him and Kolya make me want to cry with joy. O Christ.
The lovely thing about loving him is that anything false or egotistical in that love slips and is exposed and is warmly forgiven, and laughed at.
Yes, you could read that as "loving Alyosha" or "loving Christ", because they are very much of the same nature.
Remind me that love is actually freedom.
I want to see You whole, and to be unafraid.