97% of Women Will Be Cruel to Their Bodies Today

This month in Glamour Magazine is an incredible article everyone needs to read - even men - we need this to stop, 97% of women are verbally abusive to themselves each and every day, most of us far more than once a day.  As a woman who has struggled all my whole life long with an eating disorder I know the cruelty that I have treated myself with - never would I speak those words to another, or allow myself to be spoken to in that way - it's more than our bodies, we need to change our minds, hearts and souls.

Read these words: “You are a fat, worthless pig.” “You’re too thin. No man is ever going to want you.” “Ugly. Big. Gross.” Horrifying comments on some awful website? The rant of an abusive, controlling boyfriend? No; shockingly, these are the actual words young women are saying to themselves on any typical day. For some, such thoughts are fleeting, but for others, this dialogue plays on a constant, punishing loop, according to a new exclusive Glamour survey of more than 300 women of all sizes. Our research found that, on average, women have 13 negative body thoughts daily—nearly one for every waking hour. And a disturbing number of women confess to having 35, 50 or even 100 hateful thoughts about their own shapes each day.

Read More Here:  Glamour Magazine - 97% of Women will be Cruel to their Bodies Today

Live Slowly

	God help us to live slowly: To move simply: To look softly: To allow emptiness: To let the heart create for us. Amen Source: Michael Leunig, The Prayer Tree Add your thoughts at inward/outward

Synchroblog: Creativity and Christianity

Surprisingly one of the best parts of our move to New Brunswick was the lack of really, consistently good restaurants available to us. There are a few, but far too often we would get frustrated with their lack of variety, hit-or-miss menu or just the unfamiliarity of it all. We had favorite foods that we couldn't find or weren't up to our hopes, so we determined to make them ourselves.

I could have never known how much joy and satisfaction cooking and hospitality has brought to our family. We really love to create meals together, be bold and experiment with tastes and new foods. It's been an amazing surprise for us all. We're all healthier and far more adventurous than we could have dreamed.

One of the motivators for our culinary quest was a celebration meal we had at a highly recommended restaurant in our area. The menu was vast, every type of food available, so many options. We each ordered just what we wanted and it was set before us, attractively prepared, but when we tasted the food it was like eating left overs. Keith and I looked at each other, not wanting to wreck Ali & Jake's enjoyment of a night out, but very disappointed in the amount of money we were spending for such unappetizing food. As we left the restaurant we saw into the kitchen things we could not see in the light of the finishing day. Microwave upon microwave. The chef was a very talented cook. His original creation was probably wonderful. Unfortunately his vast menu was the downfall of his service. Trying to keep up with all of the items required him to make in bulk and freeze items for later use. Creativity in the can. Freeze dried moments in time.

I find I have much of the same experience when I come in contact with things labeled "Christian art", "Christian music" and "Christian fiction". I am not saying that it is all bad, there are many talented musicians, authors and artists that produce within the evangelical mainstream. What feels pre-packaged to me is the desperate need to over explain, direct and homogenize the "message".

I am re-reading Madeline L'Engle's Walking on Water, Reflections on Faith and Art as I prepare for the largest art project I've ever undertaken. She draws the distinction between overtly religious books she was given as a child and the story of The Secret Garden. She says:

"The Secret Garden is probably the most successful and most read and re-read of Burnett's books; it is also Christian, though I don't remember whether or not it ever mentions Jesus. And it is more successful than Little Lord Fauntleroy, for instance, because it is a better piece of storytelling, less snobbish, and the message doesn't show, like a slip hanging below the hem of a dress. I think we can all recognize ourselves, at least to some degree, in Mary Lennox, who is as spoiled and self-centered a child as one can find, thoroughly nasty and unlovable, basically because she's never been taught to love anybody but herself. The secret garden is as much the garden of Mary's heart as it is the walled English garden, and we watch Mary's slow growth into the realization of other people's needs and then into love. Mary's journey into love is, in fact, her journey into Christ, though this is never said and does not need to be said."

"Like a slip hanging below the hem of a dress" - that metaphor says it all for me. Can we tell the story and allow those who receive it to meet it in their own gentle way? Jesus always allowed for this. Story is portable, I carry it with me when I go, unpacking it at my leisure, retrieving from it what I am able and returning to it again and again for something new. When we over-explain or feel the need to only tell ONE story over and over again, recycling the "come to Jesus" moment in every script, story and song the only people left listening are those who no longer need that story.

Redemption is found in the most elemental of places. When something that is lost becomes found we all connect with that emotion and depth. When things are laid bare like a slip below the hem line there is no mystery to unpack, no resonance to echo, no unpacking left to do. Those are the stories, the songs and the scripts that leave me cold, like that re-heated meal at the restaurant. Instead I am warmed and I find a deeper satisfaction by the cooking of our own meals, our kitchen filled with steam and laughter, sometimes even chaos and frustration, but most of the time love and connection. Creating teaches me about God. Becoming a co-creator engages me in the story, in the majesty, in the redemption.

I was raised in a rather sparse corner of the faith kingdom. Bare walls, few instruments and little story. It nearly squished all of the life out of my little bohemian heart. There were life guards along my path though, teachers engaging me in great literature, explaining the stories behind the music, fanning the flame that was my soul. How sad that so little of that happened within my faith structure, that most of the stories I did hear there were of fear and conformity. I felt like an outsider even in the club, and at times, especially in the club. Nothing in me ever wanted to rebel. I possessed a deep longing to glorify God and bring joy; how unfortunate that there were so few channels to do so within the church.

Instead I changed, I conformed and I did my level best to live in a way that fit. It was obvious to everyone including me how little I understood the rules, knew the script and could follow the directions, I truly never did fit in. It was never out of a sour heart, just a total lack of instinct. So I shut down. I withdrew. I projected a persona that could maintain a small social interaction, but did not allow for my inner person to be seen. It wasn't safe, I wasn't sure.

It has been years of healing and growth that has finally brought me to a place of beginning to own my co-creator-ness in a more public manner. Some of my art hangs framed on the walls of my home. I make gifts from time to time for others. Each risk in turn brings the capacity to take a larger one. And it has finally come to the time when I must throw caution to the wind and try for all I am worth to own this bohemian soul I have been given. Hippie to the heart, grace to myself and others, storyteller and redemption junkie. I am going big or going home.

This Friday is the 2nd deadline for our entry in the Kingsbrae Garden sculpture contest. We have cleared the first hurdle, and are prepared for the second. I am sending in the photos of the maquette we have created. It is a miniature of a 50' long mother humpback whale and her 15' calf. The mother's blow hole and the calf's fluke will be done in cement mosaic, the rest of the form will rise,out of the sod, as if you were standing on the edge of a whale watching ship - go big or go home...

I am terrified, electric, overwhelmed and excited. None of this necessarily fits into the "Christian Art" category, but it is the most deeply spiritual exercise of my life.

L'Engle likens the setting aside of Christ's power to become a man to that of the artist. Loss of control, becoming a servant of the work is what each author, composer and artist pray for. Annunciation is the most Christ-like act on the face of the earth. Setting aside our power for the sake of another. She says:

"But the reality of the outcome of all annunciations is a reality which is scoffed at by most of the world. It is one of the great triumphs of Lucifer that he has managed to make Christians (Christians!) believe that a story is a lie, that a myth should be outgrown with puberty, that to act in a play is inconsistent with true religion."

"Obedience is an unpopular word nowadays, but the artist must be obedient to the work, whether it be a symphony, a painting, or a story for a small child. 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 says, "My soul doth magnify the Lord," and willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses; but the obedient response is not necessarily a conscious one, and not everyone has the humble, courageous obedience of Mary."

"Christian art? Art is art; painting is painting; music is music, a story is a story. If it's bad art, it's bad religion, no matter how pious the subject. If it's good art...and there the questions start coming, questions which it would be simpler to evade."

Creativity & Christianity should never be enemies. Profanity yes, but engaging as a co-creator with God is the highest calling we all can have in any sense of our lives.

We have been approved for a Kickstarter application - if we make it over the next hurdle we will be broadcasting our need of patrons here very soon. We would love for you to be co-creators with us in this endeavor. We will also be documenting this process - nearly 25 years of marriage has taught us that even the most simple things can bring out the worst and best in us - we can imagine how something this huge and creative could really become a spectator sport, so we'll track our progress of the whole process here:

Imperfectionists

Ironically - it is currently very IMPERFECT - as we are having horrible problems with images and css - if any of you are code wizards your help would not go unrecognized - we have a great wordpress theme, but are really struggling with all of the tiny bits of customization.

This blog post is part of a communal synchro-blog effort - you can find more on Creativity & Christianity here:

February Synchroblog - Creativity & Christianity

here are the link lists so far for February synchroblog:

• Bethany Stedman – How God Creates
• EmmaNadine – Creativity and Christianity
• Bill Sahlman – Created, Continued Creativity
• Heidi Renee – Synchroblog Creativity and Christianity
• Annie Bullock – Old Things are New
• John O’Keefe – What is Half of 11
• Kathy Escobar – open.
• Tim Nichols – Artist-Priests in God’s Poetic World
• Maurice Broaddus – The Artist and the Church
• Jeremy Meyers – Creativity First Christian Act (link not working yet)
• Steve Dehner – The Divine Projectionist
• Ellen Haroutunian – Creativity and Christianity: It Matters
• Tammy Carter – His Instrument His Song
• Steve Hayes – Creativity and Worship
• Marta’s Mathoms – Mythos and Create-ivity as a Spiritual Act
• Peter Walker – Creativity and Christianity?
• William Lecorchick – Heaven and Hell
• Jacob Boelman – God’s Magicians
• Liz Dyer – Divine Seeing
• Minnowspeaks – DNA
• Christine Sine – God Created the World by Imagination

Beatrice and Virgil - Yann Martel

Long awaited (by me) new book by Yann Martel - Beatrice and Virgil - reviewed here by The Rabbit Room - love this quote oh so much:

I leave you with Martel’s own words via Beatrice, a donkey accompanying his monkey companion, Virgil, during their walking conversation.

Virgil: I was thinking about faith.

Beatrice: Were you?

Virgil: Faith is like being in the sun. When you are in the sun, can you avoid creating a shadow? Can you shake that area of darkness that clings to you, always shaped like, as if constantly to remind you of yourself? You can’t. This shadow is doubt. And it goes wherever you go as long as you stay in the sun. And who wouldn’t want to be in the sun?

Kickstart an album project for The Geese

Good friends, great band, wonderful cause - please support their indy music - deep, deep souls.

When ideas become defenses

We operate with the assumption that giving people new ideas changes people. It doesn’t. Believing ideas is, in fact, a way of not having to change in any significant way, especially if you can argue about them. Ideas become defenses.

If you have the right words, you are considered an orthodox and law-abiding Christian. We burned people at the stake for not having the right words, but never to my knowledge for failing to love or forgive, or to care for the poor. Religion has had a love affair with words and correct ideas, whereas Jesus loved people, who are always imperfect.

You do not have to substantially change to think some new ideas. You always have to change to love and forgive ordinary people. We love any religion that asks us to change other people. We avoid any religion that keeps telling us to change.

Richard Rohr, Adapted from How Men Change: A Thin Time (CD, DVD, MP3)

Risk...

I don't care if no one likes it, she said, unless no one likes it. ~ The Story People

This one made me laugh out loud today. Starting a HUGE art project and I am internalizing these thoughts even before I begin...

Epiphany!!!

What a difference! The three kings had only a rumor to go by. But it moved them to make that long journey. The scribes were much better informed, much better versed. They sat and studied the Scriptures like so many dons, but it did not make them move. Who had the more truth? The three kings who followed a rumor, or the scribes who remained sitting with all their knowledge?

Source: Soren Kierkegaard, Only Rumor

Vulnerable like a bird

Birds have become an important metaphor for me this past year - so I really loved this thought:

Life is precious. Not because it is unchangeable, like a diamond, but because it is vulnerable, like a little bird. To love life means to love its vulnerability, asking for care, attention, guidance, and support. Life and death are connected by vulnerability. The newborn child and the dying elder both remind us of the preciousness of our lives. Let's not forget the preciousness and vulnerability of life during the times we are powerful, successful, and popular. ~ Henri Nouwen

O God, make me discontented

O God, make me discontented with things
the way they are in the world,
and in my own life.
Make me notice the stains when people get spilled on.
Make me care about the slum child downtown,
the misfit at work,
the people crammed into the mental hospital,
the men, women and youth behind bars.
Jar my complacency,
expose my excuses,
get me involved in the life of my city and world.
Give me integrity once more,
O God, as we seek to be changed
and transformed,
with a new understanding and awareness
of our common humanity.

Robert Raines

Just lengthen the chain

Here Is Where We Meet, John Berger,

The mother says, “Let a few things be repaired. A few is a lot. One thing repaired changes a thousand others.” The son replies, “So?” And out flows a maternal speech:

"The dog down there is on too short a chain. Change it, lengthen it. Then he’ll be able to reach the shade, and he’ll lie down and he’ll stop barking. And the silence will remind the mother she wanted a canary in a cage in the kitchen. And when the canary sings, she’ll do more ironing. And the father’s shoulders in a freshly ironed shirt will ache less when he goes to work. And so when he comes home he’ll sometimes joke, like he used to, with his teenage daughter. And the daughter will change her mind and decide, just this once, to bring her love home one evening. And on another evening, the father will propose to the young man that they go fishing together… Who in the wide world knows? Just lengthen the chain."

In this season of peace, may you lengthen a dog’s chain. And then see what happens.

via

The Moon is Always Whole

God of the two lights,
I love the sun,
its revealing brilliance,
its lingering warmth;
but in the dark of night,
let me learn
the wisdom of the moon,
how it waxes and wanes
but does not die,
how it gives itself
to shadow,
knowing it will emerge whole
once more.

Jan Richardson, inspired by Barbara Kingsolver's poem "Remember the Moon Survives"

via - The Advent Door

Fill the house with lions

"Beware when you honour an artist.
You are praising danger.
You are holding out your hand
To the dead and unborn
You are counting on what cannot be counted.

The poet's measures serve anarchic joy
The story-teller tells one story: freedom.

Above all beware of honouring women artists.
For the housewife will fill the house with lions
and in with the grandmother
comes bears, wild horses, great horned owls, coyotes."

-Ursula LeGuin

thank you karis!

This is why the questions are important

If the world is to change, first I have to change. The way I change (often kicking and screaming) is by coming to where the abyss of faith is located. I believe in a new way: not by suppressing the questions and the doubts, but by living more and more deeply into the questions and the doubts. I come to faith in a God who is paradoxically revealed in the very struggle to name God. The closer I get, the more I am questioned in my questioning, the more I am probed in my probing. I begin to wonder how it all fits together, especially when I don't fit together too well myself. I feel naked and exposed and frightened....

My fear and anger are very useful, provided I am able to resist that first panicked impulse to run. If I stand still in whatever cave I've been pushed into, my anger and fear can be a means to my understanding more clearly and with precision what is going on, not only within me but in the world.... Doesn't God reveal God's self in the areas of our greatest weakness--in our questioning, our probing, our suffering and our anger? I believe God does. This is why the questions are important. They stretch and enlarge the heart so that it is capable of receiving a deeper revelation. They expand our horizons. It would be strange if we didn't find this enlarging and expanding process deeply disturbing.

The simple truth is that reality reveals its secrets to us in proportion to the level of our willingness to ask questions. We receive "answers" to fit the kind of "questions" we pose. If our questions are narrowly and unimaginatively conceived, the answers will be, too.

Source: Alan Jones, Soul Making

via inward/outward

Through a glass dimly

Press your face
against the darkness.

Own the countenance
reflected by the pane.

You are known
on both sides
of the glass.

Source: Nancy Compton Williams, Theology Today, Corinthians 13:12

via inward/outward

He was a good man

One of my favorite new to me voices I've been reading lately - John D. Blase

Taken from his blog Dirty Shame:

In our efforts to see a savior beyond the gentle, meek and mild variety, I fear we've constructed a golden calf of the word great. But riddle me this, batman, when God created the world, you know, back there in Genesis, when all was said and done each day, what was his refrain? and it was great? No, I'm pretty sure it was and it was good. Not a page later and God said it wasn't good that man be alone, so along came the lady, yeehaw! The psalmist wrote it is good and pleasing when folks dwell together in unity. It'd be pretty cool if we could read Acts 10.38 in a Tony the Tiger voice:

Jesus went about doing gr-r-r-r-r-eat!...

but we can't. Jesus went about doing good. Even the word 'gospel' describes a news clarified not great, but good. Don't forget the Bible itself used to be known as the good book. And one of these days, I hope to hear the words well done, good and faithful servant.

Why has this word, that seems to mean such a great deal to God, fallen on hard times? What if God doesn't really want us, or our churches, or our organizations to move from good to great? What if he's quite delighted if we live good in this world gone bad? Remember that childhood lunchtime prayer - God is great, God is good? What if God's the only one who can be both, both great and good, and we, his children, are to be good? We can't be both because we're not God. Maybe that was the banana peel Lucifer stepped on, he tried to be both great and good, like God, but he slipped...and fell. Maybe the road to great is broad and wide, but the road to good is a knife-edge you must be faithful to each mundane day, and it'll take the great God's help if you ever hope to be a good man, or a good woman, or a good kid, or a good neighbor, or a good pastor, or a good friend.

I hope one of these days, when my wife and children and friends and acquaintances and creditors are gathered around the funeral canoe, getting ready to set my body ablaze and send it out upon the waters to Avalon, that somebody, maybe a little kid just happening to walk by will ask was he someone great? and one of you will chuckle, reverently of course, and say nope, not a chance, kid...but he was a good man.

Bold tracks in the land of now

I was telling my friend Rachael about the level of frustration I was feeling as so much of my journey seems familiar to me again. I have been shaming myself with "You should be past this" and "You know better than this" self-talk and I realized that on the spiral staircase that is my life I am passing by some very familiar pain and wounding. I am not going backwards, but I am re-feeling and learning healthier ways to move through this stage in my life.

We used this poem last night at group and I wanted to remember it again this morning.

Help Me to Believe in Beginnings

God of history and of my heart,

so much has happened to me during these whirlwind days:
I’ve known death and birth;

I’ve been brave and scared;

I’ve hurt, I’ve helped;

I’ve been honest, I’ve lied;

I’ve destroyed, I’ve created;

I’ve been with people, I’ve been lonely;

I’ve been loyal, I’ve betrayed;

I’ve decided, I’ve waffled;

I’ve laughed and I’ve cried.

You know my frail heart and my frayed history -

and now another day begins.



O God, help me to believe in beginnings

and in my beginning again,

no matter how often I’ve failed before.



Help me to make beginnings:

to begin going out of my weary mind

into fresh dreams,

daring to make my own bold tracks

in the land of now;

to begin forgiving

that I may experience mercy;

to begin questioning the unquestionable

that I may know truth

to begin disciplining

that I may create beauty;

to begin sacrificing

that I may make peace;

to begin loving 

that I may realize joy.



Help me to be a beginning to others,

to be a singer to the songless,

a storyteller to the aimless,

a befriender of the friendless;

to become a beginning of hope for the despairing,

of assurance for the doubting,

of reconciliation for the divided;

to become a beginning of freedom for the oppressed,

of comfort for the sorrowing,

of friendship for the forgotten;

to become a beginning of beauty for the forlorn,

of sweetness for the soured,

of gentleness for the angry,

of wholeness for the broken,

of peace for the frightened and violent of the earth.



Help me to believe in beginnings,

to make a beginning,

to be a beginning,

so that I may not just grow old,

but grow new

each day of this wild, amazing life

you call me to live

with the passion of Jesus Christ.

Taken from Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder

this is so me right now

Waiting for the pen to dry up so he can start fresh with thoughts that are worth new ink.

via Brian Andreas, The Story People

Risking Everything

I want to give myself
utterly
as this maple
that burned and burned
for three days without stinting
and then in two more
dropped off every leaf....
Source: Jane Hirshfield, from Lake and Maple in Risking Everything
via inward/outward
image credit

Pennsylvania Apple Pancake

We tried a new recipe this morning and it is definitely a keeper! It's called Pennsylvania Apple Pancake - and while we never had it while we lived in Pennsylvania it is from my favorite cookbook - Food Editor's Hometown Favorites Cookbook - American Regional and Local Specialties - this one is from the Pittsburgh Press. (We tripled the recipe so I'm posting that version here)

Pancake

9 eggs
1 1/2 c flour
1 1/2 c milk
3/4 t salt

Preheat oven to 450* while preparing batter. Beat eggs in a bowl; add flour, milk and salt and beat. Slightly lumpy batter makes a light pancake. Melt 2 T butter in a large ovenproof skillet. Pour butter into hot skillet and immediately place in preheated 450* oven; bake 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350* and bake 10 minutes longer, or until crisp and golden.

Filling

7-9 apples (I used a mixed variety we had picked at Todd's Point along with some granny smiths I had on hand)
1/4 c sugar (I used splenda)
6 T butter

While pancake bakes, prepare apples. Peel, core and cut apples. Melt 6 T butter in large skillet. Saute apples with sugar in butter until crisp-tender. (I added cinnamon & a dash of real maple syrup as splenda does not caramelize as well as sugar and the syrup helps). Set aside

Remove baked pancake from oven. Spread apple filling over half of pancake surface. Fold pancake in half. Pour butter from skillet over pancake. Sprinkle generously with cinnamon-sugar. Cut pancake in wedges and serve with lemon (we did not have lemon, but will try next time). (NOTE: Make sure your skillet handle can tolerate 450* heat or you'll have a souffle-ed handle.)