Just thought I might share a song with you. I am a songwriter (maybe not for the great wealth that I'll profit from it, but just because it's my favorite thing to do in the world) and after having come here and shaking up my whole life and mind and everything having to do with general stability, I haven't written much. But, thankfully, what I've prayed for seems to have come to pass, or at least the seeds are budding. I want to write again, and so I thought for those of you who were interested I'd share the first work I've finished here in Korea (actually there was one other, but I didn't like it enough, so it's in the graveyard.) I'm trying to articulate all that God is teaching me, and this song in particular is very personal to me. The lyrics, particularly the chorus, have been formulated during long walks and jogs where I tried to get away and be alone with God to understand what is so limited in me, only to discover what is so profound in Him. Only now am I really beginning to understand grace. There are very concrete instances in my life where I've been a recipient of this grace, and I think maybe it's only in midst of the reception of what one doesn't deserve, that the lightbulbs go on and in tears and profound gratitude one says, "Thank you. Thank you. What can I do to celebrate this love and this grace? "And this song doesn't do it any justice, but it's at least my attempt, and part of my journey here.
Sorry that the sound peaks during the loud parts. I am tempted to blame it on the microphone, but I think it's really due to my general loudness... I am a loud girl. Those of you who know me well are not shocked by this "confession".
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Seasons
Fall is truly a remarkable time of the year. Right after the crushing heat of summer, there is suddenly this freshness in the air, the skies are blue and scrubbed-clean, and some ancient longing awakens in our hearts and floats to the surface. I guess is has something to do with new beginnings. Being a Californian, I think I appreciate the experience of these drastic seasonal changes all the more because we don't have them. We have one season, summer, with only mild variations on the theme, "Sunny and warm." I am excited to know that in the coming weeks the leaves will change colors and fall from the trees, and then soon the freshness will turn to a more bitter cold and then there will be snow outside. Snow.... And I won't have to travel up a mountain to see it. It will be outside my window and stuck to my boots. We'll see how much I'm romanticizing it come February when I'm longing for the warmth of spring, but for now, it's all a black and white film and I'm moving through the streets in slow motion, smiling at the snowflakes.
So on the subject of new beginnings, I am in love with Korea again. I don't know exactly what happened, but I've been told that around the 3 month mark, people who've relocated to Korea have a tendency to get depressed. And that's exactly what happened to me. On the day I wrote my last entry here, I entered a downward spiral that lasted for about 3 weeks. It was pretty dark. I know I didn't come to Korea to "run away" from anything in my life, but at the same time, I still had to reawaken to myself, to look at some things in myself that I either didn't want to see or had buried for a while. Without getting too deeply into it, I think the initial distraction of being in a new country lasted for about 3 to 4 months, and then I had the same anxieties, frustrations, hopes and fears staring me in the face that I did before I left, only they were compounded by the loss of all prior comforts. The miraculous thing is that on the other side of the yucky depression is the beginnings of peace. I am excited for the opportunities God is giving me here at my church, with music and performing, and how He's opening my heart and mind again to being creative (something that has been stifled in me for a while). I have wonderful friends here, and I am learning to see all the free time I have during the weekdays as an exciting opportunity to write, to read, to take long walks and watch the leaves change colors, to sing songs, or to just be.
I just finished reading "The Wounded Healer" by Henri J.M. Nouwen, a writer I've heard so much about from friends though this is the first book I've read. He says this about loneliness:
"But the more I think about loneliness, the more I think that the wound of loneliness is like the Grand Canyon - a deep incision in the surface of our existence which has become an inexhaustible source of beauty and self-understanding.... When we are impatient, when we want to give up our loneliness and try to overcome the separation and incompleteness we feel, too soon, we easily relate to our human world with devastating expectations. We ignore what we already know with a deep-seated, intuitive knowledge - that no love or friendship, no intimate embrace or tender kiss, no community, commune or collective, nor man or woman, will ever be able to satisfy our desire to be released from our lonely condition."
I believe this with all of my heart. And it is knowing this that brings peace: That loneliness will befall me always, that on this earth there is no heaven, only heavenly moments, and I walk now with the One I will see one day with my own eyes and experience all fullness of joy with, but now I only have moments of fullness and I see through a glass darkly. And that's okay. It's part of life. And one of the things I'm learning is that having a dark emotion or an ugly or bored feeling does not need to be "fixed". Sometimes it needs to be felt and understood, sometimes it needs to be told to "shut-up". Sometimes it just needs to be acknowledged.
This is not depressing. In fact, it's profoundly liberating. I am an American, and we are very much an instant gratification people, and that is deeply rooted in me. I think it is also one of the greatest causes of my anxiety as an adult, not only being impatient with dreams and hopes I've had for my life that are as yet unfulfilled, but more than anything being so impatient with myself. Feeling lonely doesn't mean I'm like a toy that's broken. Not being in the position or place in life I dreamt I would be by 33 years old doesn't mean I'm hopeless. It means I'm taking steps towards patience, steps towards discovering some of the mysteries God would whisper to me in the silence and the stillness of that Grand Canyon. And I'm feeling less and less afraid to do that now.
I have no photos for you in this entry, but would love to tell you a little bit about Cheusok, which is basically Korean Thanksgiving. It occurs I believe on the first full moon which commences the rice harvest, and that was this past weekend, October 3rd. On this day, families typically go to the father's parents' house, and the daughter-in-law does all of the cooking. This is common in Korea that the daughter-in-law is almost like a servant to her mother-in-law, and if her mother-in-law is not a very gracious or kind woman, her life can be quite hellish. The family will either go to their ancestor's graves, or the Buddhist temple, or simply honor them from home. In the "honoring", the families give all the food and drink that's been made as an "offering of thanks" to their ancestors for what they've received. Then the family eats the food after prayer.
This holiday is more important than even Christmas, so we got a blessed Friday and Saturday off from work and I took full advantage! On Friday, I went shopping with some girlfriends from church into Seoul where I discovered I can find things in my size! Well, at least shirts and skirts, but pants will never be long enough and shoes will never be big enough. But I was thrilled to buy 4 new shirts for the changing weather since I only have summer clothes and since I haven't bought ANYTHING to wear in 4 months. This is a world record for me. I felt like a princess. But there was a Gap, a Zara, Forever 21, and a couple of new-to-me European and Japanese clothing stores that had great stuff in them. Glad I don't live too close to Seoul or I might spend all my money instead of saving it! Then on Saturday we took a long bike ride to Seoul and back along the riverbed. It was an absolutely gorgeous day - I mean, perfect - and we had really good pasta in Seoul before turning back around. The ride was about 50 kilometers and took most of the afternoon. Then on Sunday I was able to play guitar and sing again during worship at my church. I am so thankful to be on a worship team again, particularly at this church, and feel more alive doing that than doing anything else on earth. I am so thankful...
So on the subject of new beginnings, I am in love with Korea again. I don't know exactly what happened, but I've been told that around the 3 month mark, people who've relocated to Korea have a tendency to get depressed. And that's exactly what happened to me. On the day I wrote my last entry here, I entered a downward spiral that lasted for about 3 weeks. It was pretty dark. I know I didn't come to Korea to "run away" from anything in my life, but at the same time, I still had to reawaken to myself, to look at some things in myself that I either didn't want to see or had buried for a while. Without getting too deeply into it, I think the initial distraction of being in a new country lasted for about 3 to 4 months, and then I had the same anxieties, frustrations, hopes and fears staring me in the face that I did before I left, only they were compounded by the loss of all prior comforts. The miraculous thing is that on the other side of the yucky depression is the beginnings of peace. I am excited for the opportunities God is giving me here at my church, with music and performing, and how He's opening my heart and mind again to being creative (something that has been stifled in me for a while). I have wonderful friends here, and I am learning to see all the free time I have during the weekdays as an exciting opportunity to write, to read, to take long walks and watch the leaves change colors, to sing songs, or to just be.
I just finished reading "The Wounded Healer" by Henri J.M. Nouwen, a writer I've heard so much about from friends though this is the first book I've read. He says this about loneliness:
"But the more I think about loneliness, the more I think that the wound of loneliness is like the Grand Canyon - a deep incision in the surface of our existence which has become an inexhaustible source of beauty and self-understanding.... When we are impatient, when we want to give up our loneliness and try to overcome the separation and incompleteness we feel, too soon, we easily relate to our human world with devastating expectations. We ignore what we already know with a deep-seated, intuitive knowledge - that no love or friendship, no intimate embrace or tender kiss, no community, commune or collective, nor man or woman, will ever be able to satisfy our desire to be released from our lonely condition."
I believe this with all of my heart. And it is knowing this that brings peace: That loneliness will befall me always, that on this earth there is no heaven, only heavenly moments, and I walk now with the One I will see one day with my own eyes and experience all fullness of joy with, but now I only have moments of fullness and I see through a glass darkly. And that's okay. It's part of life. And one of the things I'm learning is that having a dark emotion or an ugly or bored feeling does not need to be "fixed". Sometimes it needs to be felt and understood, sometimes it needs to be told to "shut-up". Sometimes it just needs to be acknowledged.
This is not depressing. In fact, it's profoundly liberating. I am an American, and we are very much an instant gratification people, and that is deeply rooted in me. I think it is also one of the greatest causes of my anxiety as an adult, not only being impatient with dreams and hopes I've had for my life that are as yet unfulfilled, but more than anything being so impatient with myself. Feeling lonely doesn't mean I'm like a toy that's broken. Not being in the position or place in life I dreamt I would be by 33 years old doesn't mean I'm hopeless. It means I'm taking steps towards patience, steps towards discovering some of the mysteries God would whisper to me in the silence and the stillness of that Grand Canyon. And I'm feeling less and less afraid to do that now.
I have no photos for you in this entry, but would love to tell you a little bit about Cheusok, which is basically Korean Thanksgiving. It occurs I believe on the first full moon which commences the rice harvest, and that was this past weekend, October 3rd. On this day, families typically go to the father's parents' house, and the daughter-in-law does all of the cooking. This is common in Korea that the daughter-in-law is almost like a servant to her mother-in-law, and if her mother-in-law is not a very gracious or kind woman, her life can be quite hellish. The family will either go to their ancestor's graves, or the Buddhist temple, or simply honor them from home. In the "honoring", the families give all the food and drink that's been made as an "offering of thanks" to their ancestors for what they've received. Then the family eats the food after prayer.
This holiday is more important than even Christmas, so we got a blessed Friday and Saturday off from work and I took full advantage! On Friday, I went shopping with some girlfriends from church into Seoul where I discovered I can find things in my size! Well, at least shirts and skirts, but pants will never be long enough and shoes will never be big enough. But I was thrilled to buy 4 new shirts for the changing weather since I only have summer clothes and since I haven't bought ANYTHING to wear in 4 months. This is a world record for me. I felt like a princess. But there was a Gap, a Zara, Forever 21, and a couple of new-to-me European and Japanese clothing stores that had great stuff in them. Glad I don't live too close to Seoul or I might spend all my money instead of saving it! Then on Saturday we took a long bike ride to Seoul and back along the riverbed. It was an absolutely gorgeous day - I mean, perfect - and we had really good pasta in Seoul before turning back around. The ride was about 50 kilometers and took most of the afternoon. Then on Sunday I was able to play guitar and sing again during worship at my church. I am so thankful to be on a worship team again, particularly at this church, and feel more alive doing that than doing anything else on earth. I am so thankful...
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