Life Between the Lines i.e. Parking

When there is snow in the ground, you can't see the lines to park in most parking lots. Parking becomes a guessing game. Sometimes you end up inside the lines and sometimes you don't. In the conversation I then had with my friend, led to the philsophical idea that life can be lived inside the lines or outside the lines.

In the winter, it's easy to forget the lines are there. You can remember the lines are there, but it's really hard to remember where they are. You get to park outside the lines for a few months while the lines are covered. It's kind of the same way with life. You know where the lines are, and there is always room to play within the lines, but some days its really easy to ignore the lines. It's nice to take the space outside the lines and use that too.

It's almost like painting in some repects. There is always the chance to colour in between the lines of colouring books. I know someone who colours in between the lines in a great many pictures and I have to admit they are beautiful. I have three of them on my walls. Somedays though, I enjoy the paintings that aren't inside the lines. Sometimes, the best ones are the ones that don't have lines. When you colour inside the lines, you can get beautiful, vibrant pictures. But when you colour outside the lines, or ignore the lines in life, sometimes you get Picasso, or Monet. Somedays colouring outside the lines creates the brightest painting you have ever seen.

So the underlying, or overlying, or out-of-the-lines lying point of this is that you don't have to have to live life between the lines. It's not always as much fun. Take the time to find the lines and step outside of them every once in awhile.

I'm Not a Professional, Am I?

The quandary of so many music students. We market ourselves as musicians, but when do we get to stop calling ourselves student musicians and start calling ourselves professionals? When do we draw the line between what we do being just for fun and being forever?

The connotation of a professional comes with the promise of higher pay, although it also carries the added responsibility of becoming an adult and being entirely responsible for ourselves. It means that we have to grow up and stop playing around at what we do. Since playing around is what most of us do best, that can be a frightening thought. It's also strange to think that we are doing the work many of us will continue to do for the rest of our careers. The constant rehearsals and performances, putting life on hold until music is the only life we can possibly remember, only knowing musicians. Someday this will be our lives. For some of us it won't, but for most of us it will. If we are living the life of a professional for the most part, what does that make us? The teenage stage of becoming a professional musician?

We are no longer entirely students. When we get to be part of a cast, part of a show, part of an orchestra, we aren't just students. When people pay to come and see us play that makes us more than the students that we used to be. When we can get called to come and play gigs, we are professionals. As hard as that can be to think of, it's true. We are still students because we are still learning, but we are also professionals because we teach. We will be students for the rest of our lives because we will continue to learn from what we do and we will also always be teachers as we teach those around us, deliberately and unintentionally.

It is not a fancy degree that makes us a professional. If we wait for that degree to be handed to us, we will never be able to take ourselves seriously. We won't have the belief in ourselves that we are really ready to be considered professional, to compete on a global level. The belief in ourselves comes from ourselves and not from the opinions of others. We are professionals because that is what we are meant to be. We just need to learn to lay claim to that in ourselves and for ourselves.

Becoming OK With Who You Are

North American society is not a conducive place to become at peace with yourself. It is impossible to get out any grocery store without being told how to lose weight, how to get a relationship, how to have a better relationship, what all the things that you need to have to be happy are. It doesn't tell you how to be alright with how you look, or to be thankful that you are exactly the way you are. The only thing promoted in North America is the inability to be happy with who you are. We are not allowed to be at peace with ourselves.

It became apparent to me that this is not healthy way to live. I can't be the one who is always on a diet, always seeking to change my image, seeking a boyfriend to find completion, seeking a husband so that I won't be alone. I won't be that person anymore. I won't question myself. I am exactly as I was created to be.

I don't need a guy to make myself whole. I don't need to lose weight to be beautiful. "The person in the mirror doesn't look like a magazine, but when I look at you, it's clear to me that I can see the fingerprints of God." I am exactly as I was created to be. Somedays it's hard to remember that, but I am me. I don't need to change to be that.

Shades of Black

Many people have heard the saying shades of grey, but in the past years I have learned that there are more than just shades of grey. There are shades of white and more specifically shades of black.

I went out to a formal last night and the number of black dresses there was incredible. I am not a fan of the colour black. I wore a vibrant blue dress and felt as though I stood out a little bit too much. It was still preferential to wearing black though.

In the past eight or so years, black has enroached on my wardrobe in a manner that I had never expected it to. As a performer, black clothing is required for me. Every time I perform, it must be all in black. This has resulted in more than half of my closet holding black. While I was looking at these, I realized that there are so many shades of black. There is the slightly faded sad black, and the midnight black that comes only with new clothing. There are the shades of black that come with different fabrics and those that come in different lights.

On a larger scale, this means that there is more than just shades of grey. There are shades of white and black. This leaves life up to interpretation. It means we can't always see things as good and bad. There is more to life than that. There is a plethora of shades and no absolutes. As much as we want there to be a right and wrong to everything, there isn't. Some days, there are only shades of black.

The Feminist Movement

This requires the preface of I have nothing against the feminist movement. I am incredibly glad it happened. I appreciate the fact that decades ago women fought for rights that I now take for granted. At the same time, I have some problems with the modern manifestations of feminism.

The feminist movement began as a search for political equality between men and women. Since then it has taken on a momentum completely its own. Women fought for the right to choose. They wanted the ability to choose their husbands, their lives, their careers. They wanted to choose to have children or not. We have those rights now. Women can choose to not marry, not to have children, to simply have high powered careers. Women fought so hard for the right to choose. Now that we have it, why is that we are belittled for it?

Women who choose to have careers and never marry are applauded and I am one the women applauding them. It takes a great deal of determination and heart to create any career and I'm glad that they've been able to do that. If they choose to also have a family, that's also considered a good decision. Single mothers are heralded for being forward and being able to live without a man in their life. And I agree with that. The part I have a problem with is the judgement of women who want to have a man in their life. Who want to get married, stay home and have children. Why is that a problem? Why are we considered less than whole if we don't whole heartedly desire a career of our own? Why can't we just be who we were meant to be?

When women fought so many years ago for the right to choose, they gave us the right to choose. That ability gives us the right to choose either way. We can be mothers, career women, or both. Or neither. The right to choose means we get to choose. Not have our choices made for us.

The other problem I have with the feminist movement is many women seem to think being equal to men means becoming just like men. It doesn't. We're not men. Why should we have to try and become like them? We are incredible and unique just as we were created to be. Men and women are different. For us to be equals does not mean we have to be the same. We still get to be women.

Daughters of Feminists

In an attempt to waste some of my time, I decided to write out the lyrics for Daughters of Feminists by Nancy White. It reminds me of me and sets up some of the thoughts in my hear very well. So here it is.

Daughters of feminists love to wear pink and white short frilly dresses and speak of successes with boys. It annoys their mum.
Daughters of feminists won't put on jeans or the precious contruction boots momma found cute. Ugly shoes they refuse. How come?
Daughters of feminists think they'll get married to some wealthy guy who'll support them forever.
Daughters of feminists don't bother voting at all.
Daughters of feminists beg to wear lipstick each day from the age of three.
Daughters of feminists think that a princess is what they were destined to be.

How did they get so girly?
How come they wanta Barbie?
Why does it start so early?
Why when we bring her up just like a fella, who does she idolize? Cinderella

Honey, she's a doormat. You think when she marries that prince he's not going to expect her to run that entire castle. Look at all those rooms. And he's always on the room. And Snow White, doing all the housework for seven guys in return for room and board. This is no deal.

Daughters of feminists bruise so easily.
Daughters of feminists hurt.
Daughters of feminists curtsy and skip.
Daughters of feminists flirt.

They say "Please mommy, can I do the dishes?" or "Let's make a pie for my brother.
Are they sincere? Are they crazy?
Or are they just trying to stick it to mother?

How did they get so girly?
How come they want a Barbie?
Why does it start so early?

Daughters of feminists love to wear pink and white short frilly dresses and speak of successes with boys.

Letting It Go

I was visiting the resident wise man in my life today after having, on the scale of my days, a very bad day. As I was leaving I was complaining about something stupid and he told me to let it go. I thought about that statement as I was attempting to make it on time for rehearsal. What had happened in the past is in the past and I can't let it continue to eat away at me. If I do, I will become some bitter, twisted woman who no one will want to be around. And I understand that. I don't like being around people who are constantly bitter either.

This thought process triggered in my memory a line from a movie that I watch with my sister, Raising Helen. It's a fantastic movie and when the older sister is bailing someone out of trouble, she says to the boy who has caused all the trouble, "You are not a bad person. You just made bad decisions." So I have a choice. I can continue to hold a grudge against someone who I actually enjoy hanging out with simply because he did something stupid and hurtful many months ago, or I can remember he does have the power to make me laugh and occassionally doesn't make me want to hit him. He's not a bad person, just chose to do things in a bad way.

The other thing I need to let go of because I know the comment was not correct in anyway. It was also not intended to hurt me, although it has continued to bounce around in my head since last night. I am entirely perfect the way I am because I am exactly the way I was created to be. This also triggers some more lines in my head. "The person in the mirror doesn't look like a magazine, but when I look at you it's clear to me that I can see the fingerprints of God, when I look at you. You're a masterpiece that all creation quietly appluads. And I can see the fingerprints of God." I'm not a model, I'm not even terribly skinny, but I am perfect because I am my Master's creation.

Duct Tape and Staples

I was attempting to fix a hole in my backpack last night which is beginning to reach epic proportions and drive me out of my mind. The first attempt to seal this hole was with staples. There did come a point, fifteen staples, three scratches and a lot of frustration later, I realized this particular solution to fixing my broken backpack was not going to work. The next thought to spring into my mind, and then meander out, was that duct tape would work just as well to fix this poor abused backpack I carry all the time. Late last night that was moot point as I have no duct tape. There are very few things in my life that require duct tape to be fixed.

This is not to diminish the incredible repair value duct tape holds in so many lives. It is one of the most useful things ever to fix just about anything from broken Burks, to broken instruments cases, to broken folders, to stands, to cabin walls, to . . . well, many things. Not all of which are necessarily music related. The one thing I have found duct tape to be simply ineffective on is broken hearts. There is no amount of duct tape in the world that can hold together a broken heart or a broken relationship.

Honestly, there are few things in this world that can. "And the greatest of these is love." It may seem pointless to love when the last thing a broken heart feels as though it can do is to love. Sometimes it's not the ability to give love that heals, but the ability to receive love. It's possible to get so caught up in the hurt you feel and overlook those who offer their love to you without conditions. When there are two people involved, it seems impossible to ever offer love to them and just attempt to pull love forcibly out of them. Or ignore the love of healing they offer to you.

Some days it's not money that makes the world go round, but forgiveness. In order to love, you must also forgive. It's easy to forgive others (most days) when the others are not those who are a intrensic part of your life. It's easy to forgive when they are simply people who are there and not those who are a part of every day and every emotion, not those who guide the choices you make in your life. It can be a great policy on paper, but in the reality of every day life, this beautiful principle loses some of what it used to have. As terrible as it can be though, it is only through forgiveness we can move on with our lives. We need to be able to forgive others, and we also need to be able to forgive ourselves. We need to gorgive ourselves for not being perfect and falling short of the glory we were created for. Alternately, we also need to forgive ourselves for what we had no control over. We do not control the actions of others and so we cannot place that share of blame on ourselves. Only when we truly seek and share forgiveness can we begin to heal the brokeness that inhabits our hearts and our lives.

Love and forgiveness are two principles that often come with another. Grace. The word we so often struggle to define. The gift that is freely offered, but we are hesitant to receive it. How can such a great gift be given with nothing given in return? When there is only hurt given to the giver of this gift, why are we getting something so special? Because we don't deserve it. We never will. But God gives it to us anyways. He loves us. That's all the reason He needs.

I still need to track down some duct tape in order to fix this Grand Canyon of holes in my bag, but I think I can stop looking for the correct tools to fix the broken hearts and relationships in my life. It turns out I had them all along.

Mine, Mine, Mine!

We, as a society, seemed to be obsessed with ownership and the idea of claiming something specifically for ourselves. We always seem to want more, simply so it can be ours and ours alone. We buy more and more goods to showcase our wealth and possession as though they are the most important thing. We label everything in order to truly claim it as our own. MY school, MY house, MY books, MY music, MY church, MY God. Beyond personal ownership, the countries of the world are all trying to claim parts of the world for themselves. They attempt to divy up the land, the water and the air. The more we attempt to lay claim to more of the world, the more it becomes clear that is not how it was meant to be. It's only been in the past year that I've been able to let go of my own claim of ownership on many of the things in my life. I've begun the process of de-cluttering my life, which is more difficult than I had originally believed it to be.

It is not only the process of letting go of my attachment to the physical things in my life. That's easier than I had originally thought it would be. It may help that I'm still in the process of moving my life around every few months. It's always much easier to move when there are less things to be concerned with. There are a few things that it's more difficult to give up my claim on. My friends, my time, my faith, my parents. I can't lay claim to my friends all the time. They may be my friends, but their decisions are not focused around me. My time is not entirely my own. I was given a certain amount of time on this earth, but I'm highly aware it's only on loan until I get called home. My faith is not meant to be kept solely for myself. If I treat it like that, then it will never grow. It also prohibits others from learning from it. My parents are also not solely my parents. They are unique individuals who have their own lives that are separate from the fact that they are my parents. In my experience of letting go, I've come to realize how much people hang on to.

Beyond the physical things in life, people will lay claim to the earth, the air and the sea. Somehow that feels wrong to me. These things are not ours to begin with. We did not create them, we have not nurtured them the way they were meant to be and we certainly do not deserve them. As spoken by C.S. Lewis in the Screwtape Letters, "The joke is that the word 'Mine' in its fully possessive sense cannot be uttered by a human being about anything. In the long run either Our Father or the Enemy will say 'Mine' of each thing that exists." While we may desire to lay claim to everything that we can, it is not necessarily our right. We have been given a gift we have done nothing to deserve. We should not be so intent on claiming it that we do not recognize the value in it.

The most prosposterous claim of possession we make that has led to many wars is the exclusive claim to God. Every religion seems to think they have a monopoly on God, that His love and grace are their's and their's alone. God doesn't work like that. He doesn't play favourites. He loves all his children even when they screw up, maybe especially when they screw up. God does not exist solely in the lives of Christians, or Muslims, or Jews. God lives in the hearts and lives of all of those who come to know Him, those who seek a closer relationship with Him and those who love Him. Because God loves you. And that's all that matters.

Writing for the sake of . . . . Writing?

I write a lot of words in the day. Many of them are for the sake of taking notes, or writing a paper. Few are simply for the sake of filling a blank sheet of paper and fewer still are for the sake of laying down my own thoughts, or expressing something important. Most of the words are written in order to tell someone something.

I wonder if I would still feel the need to write if I didn't know that there was someone reading what I think about things in my life. While I sometimes do wonder, I also know that I would. Words are not merely a way to say something to someone, but also a way of showing something deeper in me. There is something that always makes me think when I write. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." John 1:1. If words are so close to the divine, why are we so careless with them? Why is it that we allow our words to fall so freely from our mouths, seeking to not to have something to say, but to merely say something?

It's a reminder every time I write that what I write will have cosequences. I may write solely for myself, but there is someone who is reading it. It's hard to realize there are people reading when I get no comments and very little response to what I write. Regardless of how much I may have began this blog in order to keep in touch with someone who is currently on the other side of the world, it's become so much more for me. My words are less a way to say something, as opposed to me having something to say. It is not usually having something to say to someone, but merely a way to crystalize my own thoughts in my head. It allows people to know something more about me, but also lets me see something that I didn't see before. My words connect me to the deepest and best part of my life. Sometimes it's hard to feel that when I get so wrapped up in my life, my classes and my own dramas. It's easy to think my words are simply words and nothing more. But they aren't. They are so much more.

What's the reason that I write? I write because I have to. I write because it allows me to connect with something greater than myself, deeper than myself and entirely a part of myself. I don't write because I have to say something, but instead because I have something to say.

Growing Up

Growing up sucks. There is no other word that I can find in my vocabulary that sums it up quite so concisely as that. There is no easy way to grow up. It usually comes with pain and frustration and grief. These are the life experiences that teach us to stand on our own and deal with our own lives with or without the support of others. Sometimes it's when people are around, it is hardest to learn to grow from the experience. Occasionally it's something that you have to do on your own. And that can be the scariest thing in whole world to do.

Moving out of the house can be the first step in growing up, although this is often not what actually leads to growing up. It does allow for the growth of independence and development of important life skills. Moving out for the first time usually doesn't mean that you never come back though. There is always stuff that won't fit and still a deep attachment to those who you have grown up with. Holidays usually occur at the central location that has always been home as well. Moving out is hard and always help to force growing up.

While moving out is hard, I don't think that it's the hardest. The hardest part of growing up is realizing that your parents are human and not super heroes. It's around the time when you stop seeing your parents as parents and begin to think of them as friends. They become more human with the ability to make mistakes and not the perfection all should aspire to. Parents are allowed to screw up and make mistakes. They don't always have to put others before themselves. They sometimes need their own days off. They are allowed to get sick. They do the best that they can, but they are not perfect. They are very human. Their humanity can be the most comforting thing because it's not easy to befriend someone who is perfect. It's easier to befriend someone who is just like you.

Growing up sucks. But somewhere in between the tears and the fighting, the grief and the pain, growing up allows for the best adventures in life. It also lets you meet two of the best friends you can ever have.

History Comes to Life

I love history. A lot. It's one of my not so well kept secrets. I couldn't care less about the dates and the specific battles or even the treaties. The thing that endears history to me the most is the people. The personalities and the unqiue traits of each and every person who has influenced the course of history from the beginning of all of it to now. History is not the written words on a page. It is the sum of millions of lives that aren't alive anymore.

I went to see "Night at the Museum" with my mom and sister. It was a fantastic movie. Every night, there is a power that brings everything in the museum to life. That is history for me. Not dusty old statues, but people who made choices. Sometimes they were bad and sometimes they were good. It's very easy for us to look back and judge them. Can we judge them though? How would we have reacted differently in their situations? We don't live and breath what they did. They may have had cleaner air than we did, they certainly did actually, but with that clean air came a new set of challeneges and problems that we cannot comprehend. We see the past in a very sterile way, in a way that we cannot view the world in which we live. It wasn't though. It was as full as disease, heartbreak, politics and war as the world we continue to live in. We cannot think that the past is something so clean that it can no longer touch us. Perhaps in this world, it is the only thing that can.

There is also the perception that history is static. It has now been written and it will never change. That is an interesting perception because history is constantly being re-written. Fifty years ago we claimed that Columbus "discovered" America. Now we say he invaded it. Every few years there is a new way to view history. There is the view of different ethnicities, and different genders. There is the view of the conquerers and the conquered. In all the perceptions that have shifted over the years, not one important figure has truly escaped it. There is one figure that continues to shift in our quest to more fully understand him. It is the quest to find Jesus Christ.

There has never been an attempt to deny his existence in the world, or the fact that he died on a cross, crucified by Roman soldier. He was there. He did exist. Past that, there are the gospels and the many translations that have come to be in existence. Out of these, from believers and skeptics, there have come a plethora of interpretations. Jesus, the Jew. Jesus, the gay man. Jesus, the healer. Jesus, the married man. Jesus, the rebel. Jesus, the simple carpenter from Galilee. Jesus, the original feminist. Jesus, the traveler. Most recently I have heard the idea that Jesus did not come from a poor family, but rather a wealthy family who held a high position in society. I find it interesting while there are so many interpretations that cloud our vision, the one we are most likely to disbelief is that idea of Jesus as divine. That he may have truly been the Son of God sent as our Messiah. I wonder how we are so comfortable forcing him into our own mold of what he must have been like that we are so able to ignore what he was like. We miss what is right infront of our eyes and continue to search for what we desire to find. For Jesus Christ is one of the few historical figures who is not dead but continues to live and breath and work in the hearts and minds of many who seek to change the world and make it a better place.

If you wish to see history come to life, you don't have to look any farther. He is there. Waiting for you. You simply need to give Him a place to live.

New Years Resignations

I've come to realize that in resolving to do somethings, I'm also resigning myself to others. There are many of those things that I don't realize that I will miss at this point, but they will come to me later, I'm sure. I've already made a list of the things that I resolve to do this year and I do believe it's fair to state those that I'm also resigning myself to.

1) I will not lose the ten pounds that I keep meaning to get rid of. That can wait for another year.
2) I will be a little sad on Valentine's Day when I see all the happy couples together. That's all right though. I was last year anyways.
3) I will continue to cry during sappy movies, good books and family focused commercials. I can live with that.
4) I will be lonely every once in awhile. It's good for me.
5) I will not have that much time for myself. I don't really need it.
6) At least once I will get up really early in order to make muffins or cookies for someone. I get to see the sun rise though and that will make it worth it.
7) I will put off doing something I have to do because someone needs to talk. There is always more time for work.
8) When I see a baby, I will want a child. And then I will remind myself that I need a guy in my life in order for that to happen and that I'm really happy single. I'm also still in school.
9) I will say yes to something that I don't really want to do. This will suck up more of my time and my energy.
10) I will bargain to give up more of my sleep in order to get other things done.
11) My arms won't heal this year, but I will get a lot more experience!
12) I will create home in yet another place and feel my heart being pulled apart every time I have to move around.
13) I will spend too much money on books in the eternal quest for more knowledge.
14) I will get fed up with sappy happy endings and continue attempting to create my own.
15) I will be thankful that I am exactly the way I am. Despite so many things, I am exactly the way I was created to be.

At this point, I may be happier about my resignations than my resolutions. Oh well!

More Than Just Genetics

I have my father's smile and his eyes. I look very much like my mom's twin. I've come to realize in the past three weeks that there is much more to my family than just the visible genetics.

In a conversation with a friend, I inquired to how you keep a stubborn, sick woman in bed when she thinks she has other things to do. His response was "So, basically you?" It struck me that I'm more like my mom than just how we look.

Another conversation along the same vein was when a family friend called to enquire about a performance time on Christmas Eve. I was going to play three services that day, and had just returned from a rehearsal and so was a little bit exhausted. She was very sweet and told me that I should learn how to say no to a great deal of things. As my mom was hacking in the background and my dad was coming back from driving me to rehearsal, her only comment was "Maybe someone other than your parents should teach you." There are many words of truth in that.

My traits are very similar to that of my parents. My eating habits are terrible and that is just like both of my parental units. My working habits involve agreeing to mostly everything and juggling my life to make everything work.

The one great thing that I inherited from both of my parents is the ability to make hard choices and put the rights things first in my life. I used to be involved with PYPS which is Presbyterian Young Peoples Society. For most of us there, it stands for Pick Your Potential Spouse. For my dad, and now for me, it is a reminder to Put Your Priorities Straight. And that's what I intend to do.

New Years Resolutions

The past year has been a little bit hectic in my life. Between classes and music and life in general, I seem to have gotten my heart broken a few times, lost someone I loved dearly and begun to create myself in a way that I like. That was 2006.

This is now 2007. A new year and a new beginning. I'm just not entirely sure what I want to begin. There are a few things I know that I want to change. Here's my list for 2007.

1) Stay single until May.
2) Watch my words more carefully. I need to be aware that what I say can hurt.
3) Give blood as often as possible.
4) Eat at least two full meals every day.
5) Not agree to more than I can actually take on myself.
6) Spend part of every week at L'arche.
7) Touch as many lives around me as I can.

I think that's a pretty good list and mostly achievable. The typical losing weight resolution will wait until later. I want to eat at least two meals a day first. That might actually be the hardest thing to do . . .