is this a soul that stirs in me
is it breaking free
wanting to come alive?
because my comfort would prefer for me to be numb
and avoid the impending birth
of who I was born to become.
[brooke fraser]
"Dive in with your eyes closed for the life you were born to claim
& the water will be paralyzed by the courage you contain
and the flutter of your earnest heart -
it will fill the silent seas."
-sleeping at last-
--
a dream happened one night
after I had fallen on my knees at a concert and wept through this song.
it's a bit strange to explain, but I know it was a metaphor of something more
something bigger & greater that's happening inside.
I dreamed that I was giving birth
but the odd thing is, I never saw a baby.
I was just experiencing the process
and I knew deeply that something was coming out of me
something beautiful
and purposeful.
I had to just keep breathing
and let it come to life.
And I was surrounded by close friends from my community --
I remember their faces
they were there, in it with me, right beside me.
Ok, I don't base my life decisions on dreams that I have, but I do pay attention. I pay attention to the ones that stirred me, that caused me to wake up still feeling how I felt when I was there in that mystery world of my mind (and heart). The truth is, my soul is in a constant state of sensitivity, or vulnerability, whatever you'd like to call it. I've been finding books to read, songs to listen to, people to meet that are all seeming to conspire together against my comfort zone. I would not say that I am "comfortable" very often. Like I said, I'm very sensitive to the world, especially to the stark contrasts of what I believe and what I see, what I hope for and what actually happens. I see a person wandering the streets, being yelled at, dirty and confused, and grief grips my heart something terrible. I see a dead squirrel on the road, and I feel the aching separateness of humanity and the rest of creation. I process things differently than most people I know. I am affected by nearly everything. I'm a Reactor, so Kip categorizes me. And dear God, I've been given an overwhelmingly amount of empathy. So in wanting to live fully and intentionally, I'm choosing to believe that this dream is like a hint. It's like a nod. It's like a, Hey Candice Mae, there really IS more going on than what you see with your eyes -- keep paying attention to those heart and soul feelings, those shaky and take-your-breath-away experiences.
These feelings, indeed, seem like arrows pointing towards my purpose, towards the intention of my creation.
I just read a blog where the writer, a mama who has experienced many, many hard things, shared a really interesting thought. She questioned if possibly, before we were born into and onto this earth, our souls had a conversation with God. Maybe, she says, we were given the opportunity to express the lessons we'd like to learn while we were here living our physical lives. Maybe we chose our destinies, or at least chose the kind of hard things we'd experience so that those hard things would build in us the grand and holy character that we desired to have in the world to come.
Many people I know might immediately speak some verse or some belief that would threaten the validity of that, and that is ok with me. I believe it's ok to question the universe. I believe Jesus is my friend, and He loves to converse with me about my weird thoughts, or my reaction to other people's weird thoughts. Honestly, I believe in make-believe things like that mama thought of. I live in a very practical world in which I try to make wise and good decisions, but on the inside I am like imagination gone wild, a walking "WHAT IF?!" I believe anything can happen. I love stories of impossible things. I love crazy people and prophets who don't fit in. I sometimes feel like a crazy person made for another place or another time. And most of the time ... I keep this part of me hidden, for fear of what others will say. For fear that I really am as drastically different as I seem -- fear that I will have no idea what to do with my true self.
In realizing some of these deep truths about me, I found a book at a garage sale called Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle. It was a total random buy, but I had a slight feeling that her book was what I had silently and subconsciously been waiting for. She talks about art and artists, about stepping out into unknown things and finding yourself there. She adamantly urges us to use these gifted (often hidden) parts of ourselves - to give ourselves up to something greater - to create and to inspire on behalf of the world.
"We write, we make music, we draw pictures, because we are listening for meaning -- feeling for healing. And during the writing of a story, or the painting, or the composing, singing, or playing, we are returned to that open creativity which was ours when we were children. We cannot be mature artists if we have lost the ability to believe ... an artist at work is in a condition of complete and total faith."
"Stories are able to help us become more whole, to become Named. And naming is one of the impulses behind all art; to give a name to the cosmos we see despite all the chaos."
"But when the words mean even more than the writer knew they meant, then the writer has been listening. And sometimes when we listen, we are led into places we do not expect, into adventures we do not always understand... as long as we know what it's about, then we can have the courage to go wherever we are asked to go, even if we fear that the road may take us through danger and pain."
"There is no denying that the artist is someone who is full of questions, who cries them out in great angst, who discovers rainbow answers in the darkness, and then rushes to canvas or paper. An artist is someone who cannot rest, who can never rest as long as there is one suffering creature in the world. Along with Plato's divine madness there is also divine discontent, a longing to find the melody in the discord of chaos, a rhyme in the cacophony, the surprised smile in time of stress or strain... it is that what is has been disarranged and is crying to be put in place. Perhaps the artist longs to sleep well every night, to eat without indigestion, to feel no moral qualms, to turn off the news and make a sandwich after seeing the devastation and death caused by famine and drought and earthquake and flood. But the artist cannot imagine this normalcy. Vision keeps breaking through, and must find means of expression. "
"The artist is a servant who is willing to be a birth-giver... I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius or something very small, comes to the artist and says, 'Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.' And the artist either willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses ... "
Yeah. Conspiracy, right?
And this book was only the beginning. Not surprisingly, at this same time Hillsong United came out with a new album which includes a song called Oceans. If you've heard it, you know what I mean.
spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
let me walk upon the waters, wherever you would call me.
take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
that my faith would be made stronger...
It feels really strange and too personal to be writing about this, actually. But I think it's what I need to be doing. Because honestly ... writing is not happening in any other way. And writing seems to be the preferable way in which I process and analyze my life. So naturally, I might explode at any moment because it's just swirling and storming inside of me -- all of these things I'm thinking and feeling and wondering about. It's in there, and I'm working on getting it out. I'm working towards fearlessness.
However, my mostly introverted self doesn't want all of this outside of me yet. If friends want to talk about this, I don't know what to say. And people, I almost always know what to say, because I've thought about it for days before I talk to you. But this... thing? ... me? ... I don't know what to even call "it," is causing me to stumble and struggle with words in a way I haven't really struggled before. It's all heart. And maybe a lot of spirit, too. And well ... the spirit is like wind. I'm not following so well. Or maybe I am?
And yes, all of this is making me mildly insane. And very tired. But I don't just want to be tired. I want to dream. I want to discover. I want to be that person who enjoys life & still struggles, but is also doing something that actually brings her more life and allows her to share her life with the world.
So here enters : Viv, a new friend who will hopefully add to this internal & eternal conversation and help me make sense of some it. Just some. We'll be meeting in a couple weeks, so let's hope I'll have a lot to say by then.
Life is a story, folks. Your story. My story. A journey. A drama. And I want mine to be rich in love, adventure, and wonder. Heck, I'll even take this uncomfortable stuff and the controversy if it makes my story more interesting. I'm opening myself up to a beter story, not just for me, but for those around me and those who will come after me. And for Jesus. I want his story to continue to heal and change the world like it keeps healing and changing my own heart. Freeing me to be, perhaps, who I once chose to be -- this character, this artist, this restorer of things and earth.
seeking & believing,
C
Try hard to concentrate
hold out your hand, can you feel the weight of it?
the whole world at your fingertips
don't be, don't be afraid
I promise I'll keep you safe.
You'll be an architect
so pull up your sleeves
as you build up your collection
of pearls that you've pulled from the deep
a landscape more beautiful than anything I've ever seen
darkness will be rewritten into a work of fiction
you'll see
as you pull every ribbon
you'll find the secret it keeps
dismiss the invisible by giving it shape
You are an artist
and your heart is your masterpiece
& I'll keep it safe.
-sleeping at last-
