Escalator

Posted on August 18 2011 by J.W. Richmond

The Escalator
The Escalator

I'm a pilgrim on the edge.
On the edge of my perception.
We are travelers at the edge.
We are always at the edge of our perception.*
 

—


I love Scott Mutter's work.

He said a lot in the time he was here. And did his work by hand, not computer.** He called his art "surrational" because it was not entirely surreal or entirely rational.***

He also added lyrics to his work that bring me even further in – every time.

Incredible.

I especially love The Escalator. It isn't the prettiest of his work. He has so many amazing pieces. But this one says so much.

We can never see what is outside of our perception. We can only see up to the edge. And we will always have an edge to what we perceive.

More of Scott Mutter's work is available at The American Museum of Photography.

 

*The American Museum of Photography
**Chicago Tribune
***Surrational Images

Pursuit

Posted on August 17 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Is God there – all the time?

Biblical answer: Yes.

Do I (intellectually) believe it? Yes.
Do I really, fully believe it in my soul?

I want to.

Do we choose Him? Does He choose us?

Yes (I think).

I still can’t – totally – grasp that.
I do (mostly) believe both.

But all I can see –
     all I can feel – is that I pursue Him.
                                  I choose Him.
                                  I run after Him – constantly.

Not the other way around.

Has He forgotten? Abandoned? Given up? Ignored? Never wanted to bother in the first place, but I chased after Him so hard that He had to give in?

Maybe I prayed the right prayer, said the right words, believed the right things and He (reluctantly) had to play by the rules – the ones He set up in the first place?

That feeling is so strong.
          And – so unreliable.

But I’ve been grasping
                  reaching   
                  praying
                  gasping for air – for Him
                              for so long
           and getting nothing in return,
                  nothing – tangible – back.

I didn’t even want to believe in Him.
Agnostic felt better.

I looked for other ways
               other solutions
               other anythings…
     for something that made more sense,
                              felt better,
                              wasn’t so religious,
                                      so restrictive,
                                      so limiting,
                        that I didn’t believe in
                             just because my parents did.
                  It needed to be my choice.
                        Entirely.

I read. Researched. Tried other options…

I couldn’t hold onto anything else longer than a few minutes, pages – or sentences.

All other alternatives failed because their arguments, persuasions – and logic – failed.

And even though I didn’t end up where I wanted to, where I tried to – even though I felt worse – there was only one place to go.
 

“Where else would I go?” – Peter (John 6:68*)
 

After this push-pull (was He pulling?), I had only one conclusion. There was only one thing left:

Christ.

Whether I wanted Him or not.
He was it.

 

*I hate the word “whom” – another story – so it’s a loose translation.

Junk

Posted on August 15 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Everything has its place. (I hope.)

Everything belongs somewhere. (Right?)

I need (want?) that to be true. Because there are so many implications.

My YUD foundation – a personality profile we use with our work staff, volunteers and in premarital counseling – is not Achiever: logical, organized, responsible, task-oriented, with a thinking-first lens.*

That’s totally me, right? Sort of. Not really. Kind of. Yes. Maybe.

I have a good amount of Achiever, and it’s definitely a part of me. It’s not my lowest part, but it isn’t high either. I think I use almost all of it up at work.

But.

Our car is (mostly) clean – on the inside – and uncluttered. Thanks for the car etiquette, Dad! Keeping the outside clean is a huge beast, but we try.

My desk is clear (mostly) and organized. I can find stuff quickly. Most people could, if they needed to. What is on the surface may not be at a 90-degree angle, but it is at the “right” angle. It’s intentional. The lines are clean. (Mostly.)

The drawers are organized, but what isn’t structured is very minimal. Mostly due to the shifting of stuff when the drawers open and close.

I make our bed every day. I know we sleep in it every night and it’s just us, and “who cares?” Jeff says. But it needs to be made. I need it to be made.

The files on my computer are (mostly) filed away in my own precise system. I have very few on my desktop – only the ones I am in the middle of finishing.

Our house needs to be clean and straightened (mostly) before I can relax. Not to the extent where I will stay up all night making sure everything is just right – like my sister used to do. But I need it as serene as I can get it.

It’s definitely not perfect. Seems like all the loose ends never get tied. The list never gets checked off.

So I will shove stuff into a drawer – if I have to – even though I hate that.

But I refuse to have a junk drawer. If it does not belong – somewhere – we need to find a place for it (now!) or get rid of it.

I need organization
         structure
         clarity.

Maybe to balance (counteract) the chaos that is in my head.

Or maybe because I need to fit – somewhere (anywhere). I need to belong. Somewhere.

I don’t want to be tossed out.
Disregarded.
Or shoved in a corner.

Or a junk drawer.

 

*Your Unique Design: Originally Developed by Taibi Kahler; Adapted by Dr. Bob Maris and Dr. Jerry Richardson.

Touche

Posted on August 14 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Our team from work was set to go to a Leadership Network Conference last week.

I am not a leader, not a “rhetoric, mobilizing force of one” – Dar Williams.*

But it was a team thing. And I was looking forward to the time with them.

And the learning.

Taking in the knowledge of other people via their writing or speaking. I appreciate them and their stories – even when I may not fully agree with them. I enjoy learning.

I feel like I never have time for that. I work – and try to be present with all I have – because that’s all I have to give. I come home – exhausted – and do the chores I need to do. Spend time with my Jeff as much as I can. And then I crash.

Night after night. And wake up every morning, exhausted.

When our team carved out the time to go to a local conference, I was excited. One of the speakers – the whole reason we were going – was the author of a book we were reading as a team.

And at the last minute, he backed out.

Agendas, politics, small – but very loud – voices persuaded him. And he backed out.

(So many words come to mind to describe him. None of them are positive.)

The rest of the team decided to take the afternoon off.

I still wanted to go. Even though I had no idea what the replacement speaker was going to talk about.

We had only planned to attend one session, not the entire conference. So it wouldn’t be for very long. (Talking myself into it.)

So I went. Alone.

I drove into the parking lot and found a spot. Got out of the car, walked in the direction everyone else was going.

There was a check-in table. Empty. And nobody was behind it. Or near it.

So I walked in the door. I had the confirmation number and was totally paid for, so if anyone asked, I was good. Not being shady.

I looked around, and sat down in a seat, hoping people who were there for the morning session wouldn’t be territorial.

I attended the conference alone.

The first topic: Humility.

The second: Vulnerability.

Haha!

Touche, God!

Very funny.

 

 *"The Pointless, Yet Poignant, Crisis of a Co-Ed" – Dar Williams

Intro

Posted on August 14 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Friends have told me I should blog.

I always dismissed their suggestions. I don’t have anything to say. No one would want to read it anyway. I don’t need to take up (cyber)space with my ramblings.

But I think I need to step out and try something different – something new. So here we go.

I showed Jeff some of the stuff I had written and told him I was thinking about starting a blog. He said, “Do it.”

Then came my 40-thousand questions:

Do I even have anything to say?
Would anyone read it?
Will they like it?
Is it selfish? Or conceited?
Does it matter if anyone reads it?
Am I okay with no one reading it?
Would it (I) be (ir)relevant?
If (When) I talk about God, will my non-believing friends immediately disregard it?
Could I make it private or invite-only?

"You're overthinking it," he said.

But that’s what I do!

So I’m taking a chance. Read it or don’t. Like it or don’t. Laugh or don’t.

It’s okay (I think).