Let’s Notice Together

I think about the book The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker a lot since reading it last year. The subtitle says it all: “131 Ways to Spark Creativity, Find Inspiration, and Discover Joy in the Everyday.” I loved the idea that how you notice and what you do with what you’ve noticed can all be an art form. And that is pretty much what the entire list is about: what people have decided to notice and how. I took some notes and had a few ideas for how I could replicate some in my own life, but none have come to much fruition. Still, I can’t get the book out of my head, because my biggest takeaway was just to take time to notice, well, anything!

For a while, I tried to notice anything odd, and even better, snap a picture of it. I chose “odd” rather than “beautiful” because oddities tell stories and make you curious. The first example that comes to mind is when I saw a motorcycle parked on the sidewalk outside the local library. Immediately questions came to mine and a story formed: Who parked it there? Were they in a hurry for a certain book? What book can make someone that hurried? Is there treasure I should know about? Scavenger hunt? Or maybe it was someone important? I have no idea, but to this day, I wonder!

On another day, I saw a orange traffic cone perched at the top of a tree. How did it get there? Did someone put it there? Was it an industrious squirrel? Or a giant?

These are fun examples, and I hope I can keep up this practice. But it’s actually not the point of this post. The point is that efforts to be present in my every day life, to “eliminate hurry”*, to practice noticing, are worth pursuing.

As a Christian, I actually think I have the same calling: to lift up my head and see life for what it really is. And if I use my lenses of “beauty, freedom, and abundance”, the results can be profound. I really love the idea that not only can noticing be an art form, it can also be a spiritual discipline. (I would argue that creating any art is actually a spiritual practice, which I’ve always known in my soul but have learned more practically from these art classes.)

So I will continue to notice oddities (there may be an occasional blog post), but also every season I want to pursue noticing different things that I set up beforehand, engaging many or all of my senses. For example, this fall, I want to notice anytime:

I see the colors of the trees.

I hear the sound of the leaves on the ground.

I smell and taste fall spices.

I feel soft blankets.

All these things come so naturally in autumn, and maybe that’s why I love this season. Maybe I’ve spent my whole life really noticing fall, and therefore finding the most joy this time of year. That’s good. That’s the whole point.

And it’s also good to start with an easy one!

Will you join me in taking notice, in the hopes that it will keep us really living in the present? What goals would you set for yourself to notice this season?

*This quote is from a chapter I read from the book The Life You’ve Always Wanted by John Ortberg.

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An Abundance of Time

If you’ve been reading my blog or looking at my artwork recently, you will already know that the three words that I’ve been meditating on are beauty, freedom, and abundance. These are the three areas I have been trying to live into and see everywhere. And believe it or not, you can find these things everywhere, if you will just have eyes to see them. Sometimes “eyes to see” just means taking the time to look, sometimes it means shifting your perspective, sometimes it could even mean some serious self-care or mental healthcare. 

Today I want to talk about my path of seeing the abundance of God, and even how it relates it to my anxiety. This is just my story, and everyone will have a different story to tell. But I hope it can be an encouragement to someone.

I have heard that anxiety is your body being constantly ready for something to happen, even if there is no immediate threat! I feel this a lot when it comes to time or productivity. My natural inclination when I feel high anxiety is to just go with it and keep doing and doing and doing until I can cross off as many things as possible from my list. Logically, this should make me feel better, right? If I’m anxious about there being enough time to get everything done, then a few hours of high productivity should make me feel better! Unfortunately, that’s never how it works. 

I remember the exact moment it hit me that the opposite is actually true. I was starting to get that panicky feeling. It was getting late in the day and I was tired. I started to notice piles of stuff everywhere (that’s usually how it starts for me: noticing all there is to do). It suddenly feels like I am drowning and I will never be free, never get done, never be good enough. My impulse was to get to work and push through. But then it occurred to me that maybe I actually needed rest, instead.

Now, resting when I am feeling panicky or anxious is really hard! Taking deep breaths, putting on music, taking a walk, playing the piano, or even just sitting outside are all things that have helped me in those moments. Audiobooks help a lot, too. I don’t have it in me to read, but listening can be soothing.

My spiritual director helped me come up with a breath prayer for moments like these as well. I told her about a time earlier that week when I was telling myself “I just have to push through the rest of this day” when a very clear thought came into my head: God doesn’t want me living like this. Every moment is a gift, I don’t want to squander them by just “pushing through”. 

But the truth is, laundry still has to get done, dishes still have to be washed, children still have to be fed. And honestly, those moments won’t just stop coming. So the next time I feel that impulse, praying in the form of deep breaths:

Inhale: Lord, lift up my head

Exhale: To see your beauty

In taking a deep breath, I literally have to change my posture and actually lift up my head. But I am metaphorically changing my posture, too. I am asking for “eyes to see”, even in those hard moments. 

One of my goals this year was to do more things that have no purpose, or that don’t make sense on the outside. And with the aforementioned realization of needing rest instead of more work, it suddenly felt like this goal was the answer! Just taking the time when you feel like there is no time somehow multiplies the time! This is God’s economy at work, friends. This is abundance.

Rob Walker, in The Art of Noticing, claims that taking the time to notice our surroundings in different ways sparks creativity. I say absolutely yes, and so much more. Taking the time to do something different, or seemingly pointless, helps us see the abundance of God! Not just in our time (but that, too!) but in our world! 

And I have found that in making an effort to take that time, my anxiety about having enough time has lessened. 

Surrendering this to God has been hard, and breaking the patterns of 40 years of living is definitely going to be a process - one that I am doing imperfectly (and that’s OK!). I know God is continuing a good work in me and it’s bigger than I can put in this post. But I have been amazed at how much I have been set free in the surrendering, and how much more I can see of the beauty all around and the abundant life He promises.

This is a little infographic to help me remember that God’s economy looks different from ours. Somehow He multiplies where we hoard.

Beauty, Freedom, Abundance

These three words have been on my heart the past few months and I finally realized that this is how I want to see the world, with eyes that seek beauty, freedom, and abundance. I want them to be written on the frame in which I see every landscape, every sorrow, every joy, every face. But sometimes I need the reminder to actively seek these things, and not expect them to just come passing by.

Today I read in The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker that you should take a piece of plastic and point it at a scene. Then describe that scene with markers on the piece of plastic. Now shift the plastic to another scene and see how the words could possibly fit. I thought I can make that work with my three words as well!

So this is the scene I look at from my office, and these are the three things I want to seek in every place I look. It’s easy to see them here. But may I be the kind of person that can find these three things anywhere and then help to show them to others as well.

you are beautiful with God's beauty

From now on, I think we should greet each other every morning with how Gabriel greeted Mary in Luke 1:28 (The Message):

Good morning!
You're beautiful with God's beauty,
Beautiful inside and out!
God be with you.

Reflections on Lament

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.” Psalm 16:11

During Lent this year, our church* has been gathering together (via Zoom) to “practice lament”. This is an intimidating idea to most people: gathering with others with the sole purpose of being sad together. (Letting ourselves be sad when we’re alone is scary enough!) It sounds completely outside our comfort zones and honestly, maybe, rather pointless. Why should we just take time to be sad? And why magnify the sadness by hearing about everyone else’s?

But surprisingly that’s not what happens. The sadness doesn’t feel magnified. And suddenly we don’t feel so alone. 

I am not a pastor or a leader of these groups. I am a participant, and in speaking to other participants I’ve heard things like “I feel so heard”, “I feel so connected to the community”, “I feel hopeful and safe here.” To hear these statements, a year after the world fell apart, and during/after a gathering on lament, is absolutely profound. 

Our pastor often talks about lament being God’s good gift to us in our healing journey. “Lament”, as opposed to just “sadness”, is offering up our sadness to God. And I would add we offer up our sadness to God in expectation - we want to know what He is going to do about it! Sometimes we get an answer, sometimes we don’t. But it is the process, not the answer, that is important.

I can’t help but think of the Pixar movie, Inside Out.** Joy spends the whole movie trying to keep Sadness away from the control board of Riley’s mind. Riley is even commended for her positive outlook, even when things are hard. But in the end, it isn’t Joy who saves the day. Joy finally realizes that the only path to healing Riley is by letting Sadness do her job and take control for a little while. Only when Riley is finally able to express her Sadness, Joy can reenter the picture. And at the end, there is a beautiful picture of Joy and Sadness, hand-in-hand on the control board of Riley’s mind, as Riley snuggles her parents. 

What a stunning picture of Sadness and Joy, co-mingling in healing. The two often have to work together. There is no life without sadness because our world is broken. Unless we know how to find joy in and through sadness, we will have no hope.

We have to learn how to find the joy in the sadness. 

I am constantly reminded of this scene when I “practice lament” with others at my church.

But what’s even better is that we as Christians are not alone with our sadness. Not only do we have each other, we have a God who weeps with us. And as we lift our sadness up to God in lament, He meets us right where we are. 

So I am saying this to you and I am saying this to myself: please, please stop fearing sadness. It is scary to just let ourselves be sad, because what if it breaks us? What if we can’t ever be happy again? But offer your sadness to God and He will meet you in it. 

He came down to earth and experienced suffering first-hand. This is the week we remember Jesus’ journey to the cross, the ultimate in suffering and sacrifice. Meet Him in this suffering. Let yourselves be sad, offer it up as lament, and He will set you on the path of healing to acceptance, to abundance, to joy, and ultimately, the path to Life.

*Church of the Apostles, Bridgeport, CT. Most of what is written here is what I’ve learned there. Except with less Pixar.

**Why do Pixar movies always make it into my blog posts? Let’s pretend it’s because I work with children - but it’s actually just because I think they are phenomenal! And full of good, deep lessons on life!

I love walking in cemeteries.*

There are the days when you need to shut off the noise, and nothing does that like a walk in a cemetery. There is a reason for the expression “silent as the grave.”

Today in particular I need silence, so I leave my phone at home and walk to the nearby cemetery. 

The first thing I notice is the sound of my footsteps. (If I had my phone, I wouldn’t have even noticed them.) The sound is a reminder that I am alive. And I will be alive until the moment I take my last breath. This sounds obvious, but sometimes I need this reminder. Amidst the anxiety of life and the treading water of purpose, I need to remember that whatever my surroundings, I am still alive. And because I am still alive, I am still called by God to live.

I glance at the names on each stone. I say the names in my head and hope in some small way this keeps their memory alive and honors them. I take note of the dates. I even find my eyes moistening when my brief calculations prove a child is buried here. I grieve for them. Sometimes I even pray for their souls, which I am not sure is theologically correct, but I still think it’s OK to do. 

I like to think that even though I love the silence of a cemetery, it’s OK to bring my children once in a while and let them play among the stones. I imagine that every person buried there would love to hear children laughing and running and using every second to just live their precious lives. Children are good at teaching us how to do that. And there is no more profound example for me than children running in a cemetery. 

Today I am thankful for my walk in the cemetery and the lessons I glean from it. I like to think the people buried there would be happy to know their bodily presence nestled in the ground can still play a part in instructing the living. 

*This was written earlier in the pandemic. Reading it now, months later, I realize it sounds pretty morbid. I don’t mean it to be. I think we always need to be reminded to move forward and live abundantly, even if we aren’t depressed (but let’s be honest - the pandemic has brought many of us to varying levels of depression!).

The Cost of Beauty

In part 1 in my series on Beauty, I talked about how beauty needs a broader definition. I related it to finding beauty in myself, but also that it can apply to so many things in this world. Today, in part 2, I examine the cost of looking for (and finding!) that beauty.

I saw a picture on Instagram (@earthfocus) which led me to a conversation with my husband that jokingly started like this “I want to go to there”. It wasn’t too too far off, and going there actually became a distinct possibility. But the catch was, I wanted to go when the Christmas lights were still up, because I wanted it to look just like the picture. So we planned a trip to Quebec City in early January. The resulting trip and subsequent pictures were some of the most magical in my entire life. Even my dearly-loved husband, very much a non-romantic, told me the streets were “almost magical”. (Did my husband just say something was magical?? But he did, and it was.)

Whether we are visiting a uniquely beautiful place, staring at a beautiful painting, looking into the peaceful face of a sleeping child, hiking through a colorful woods, or even experiencing a lovely smell, emotions buried deep can come to the surface in an instant. Some things are universally considered beautiful. Some things are only beautiful to us. But either way, it doesn’t change the force of our reaction when we face something we find truly beautiful: something raw and real wells up inside. It shakes us and awakens us. It can be so evocative that we can feel things we haven’t felt before or feel them more deeply and richly than ever. 

Sometimes our reaction can even feel painful. Sometimes tears come to our eyes and we want to cry. Our soul is crying out that this is what life is about, this is abundance, this is real and everything else is just a sad imitation. 

But the moment doesn’t last. 

My favorite quote by C.S. Lewis (in The Weight of Glory) sums it up so well:

“We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”

Our beautiful moment of raw and real emotion is gone all too soon. We can’t put it in our back pocket and pull it out whenever we want a piece. It is happenstance and ephemeral. It is that very fleeting nature of a beautiful moment that makes it so precious, but also so painful. We want to hold on to it forever.

There was a moment in the Pixar movie Soul when #22 (in Joe’s body) sat down and watched a seed fall to the ground. It wasn’t a big, dramatic moment. It wasn’t profoundly beautiful in the classic definition of the word. In fact, it was rather ordinary: a seed fell from a tree onto a city sidewalk. Someone else could have sat in the exact same spot and caught the exact same seed and felt nothing. 

But to #22, it changed everything. It was just a moment, but it was the moment her soul came alive and she decided she wanted to really live.

My example of old Quebec City in January is a bit silly, but my point is that in order to catch that fleeting once-a-year beauty, we had to endure some of the coldest days we have every experienced. We had to hunt down something we knew to be beautiful, but the cost was frozen fingers and toes!

Sometimes the cost is just being cold. Sometimes it’s just taking a little time out of our day. Sometimes it’s that we look a little silly. But sometimes it’s allowing ourselves feel something real that may scare us, to allow ourselves to be changed, and to really live.

Beauty is all around us if we really take the time to look (especially if we remember to broaden its definition). Opening ourselves to its evocative nature may feel very vulnerable or make us feel exposed but it is the path of abundance. 

And that is beautiful.

Beauty Needs a Broader Definition

Part 1 of a short blog series on Beauty

We have a very narrow definition of beauty. 

Go ahead, take some time to think of things that are classically considered beautiful. 

I bet your list looks something like: 

Rainbows
Flowers
Sunsets
Colorful fall leaves
A mom and her baby
A handsome man or a beautiful woman

No doubt these are all beautiful things. But is there not also beauty in the rain before the rainbow? 

My quest to find beauty everywhere has been lifelong, even before I knew how to express it. But never has the journey been harder than when I realized I had to look for it in myself, especially my physical self, though I had to apply this to my personality as well. It took a force of will and deep conviction to stop hating my body, to stop cursing my personality, and to start loving it. 

And when I started loving who I am more, I realized that beauty for women is too narrowly defined. Isn’t it beautiful to have laugh lines? To have stretch marks? To have wrinkles? 

Laugh lines show a life full of smiles and laughter; stretch marks show a body that grew and changed in different seasons, whether from great joy or sorrow or just normal everyday life; wrinkles can tell story after story of a life well lived. For me, and in particular, my weight gain, showed a happiness and contentment I have never experienced before. And isn’t that what is beautiful?

And if beauty for women is too narrowly defined, then maybe all beauty is too narrowly defined.

Rain
Weeds
Clouds
Naked trees
Grief
Imperfect bodies of all kinds

Nature and its ever changing and yet always the same cycle is beautiful. Change, dying in winter and rebirth in spring represent to us newness and excitement with each day and season, while also reassuring us with its consistency.

The tears of a grieving son, mother, friend are beautiful. They show the depth of emotion, of love, that is so raw and real - emotions that we so easily take for granted in our every day lives. It is the pain of grief that we have all felt, the pain that connects us together.

Humanity as real people, not as sex symbols or icons to idolize, is beautiful. Real people who have lived real lives, who have touched others, and their bodies that reflect the journey. Humanity in every form, not just one color, race, and shape, is part of the richness of who we are as people!

That is the broader definition of beauty that we need. That is beauty. And it can be found everywhere.