As in, the effect that my artwork has on me and could potentially have on others, if it is truly expressing what it is meant to express.
That picture, the one for "Let Go"? It caused me problems this week.
It is a disturbing image. As I explained in a previous post here, it reminds me of those dreams I used to have - about falling and all.
It sticks with me, though, for more reasons than simply the memory of dreams I had when I was small.
The drawing stays with me. I can see it in my mind's eye. Falling, fear, losing control, being alone. Terror. All wrapped up into one tidy little picture. Yet there's something else about it that is damaging for me. And I don't know if I can manage to explain it in words.
I don't like to think about that descent. When I write or speak about my past, I pretty it up, tidy it up. Pretend that some of the things that have happened to me either never happened or weren't as bad as they actually were. I can't be honest with myself or anyone else about my past.
I don't like my past.
Unfortunately, my past is a part of who I am.
If I do not like my past, do I truly like myself?
If I don't like myself, how can I become my self?
Difficult questions.
"Let Go" is damaging because it challenges me to take a long, hard, honest look at myself and my past. Who I am, what I've done, who I've been, what I've been...
That sort of honesty and examination rips holes in the self I've created. It forces me to look at the bad parts of myself and accept them as part of who I am, no matter how much I want to pretend they don't exist.
There are things about my past that nobody knows except me, God, and whoever was there at the time.
There are things that sit inside of me, things I wish I could just drop and leave behind... things I wish I could forgive, things I wish I could forget.
I cannot heal these wounds on my own.
They aren't really even scars yet. If they were scars, I would be okay. Scars are visible signs of wounds that have now healed.
I'm talking about bruising - deep bruising, the kind that hurts but doesn't necessarily cause discolouration of the skin.
So when the Master Surgeon goes to operate and repair the internal damage, He has to make a cut, which of course causes an external (visible) wound. Then He has to excise the diseased tissue and replace it with healthy tissue. When He's done, He closes it all up.
And if I then pretend that there is no reason to take special care of the external wound, then the internal will become infected and diseased once more, and it will require another operation.
I do not much like being operated on. As I said, it is damaging. It hurts me, and while it is occurring, I find myself thrown into the same internal state as I was in when the original wound was caused.
That's what happened this week:
I got operated on, and I didn't like it at all. I hope it holds this time.
November 3, 2000
I need to hear Your voice, I need to feel You touching my life, making it be the way You want it to be. Not even, necessarily, Your actual voice... so long as it's clearly You.
Have I been forgetting You lately? I've been so busy, God, I know I need to take some time out and find You again.
"Let me become like Esther,/Who never heard Your voice,/But felt You move in her life./Let me become like Esther,/Who never questioned Your support,/And knew Your love and approval."
I question You all the time. I know that I shouldn't, that I need to accept Your will, Your actions, Your moving, without asking why.
I just don't always hear You. I know I should be able to recognize Your voice, but I can't.
And I'm always seeking love, always searching for approval from other people... all I really need is Your love, Your approval. How do I be content with You and only You?
How do I know that what I see working in my life is really You?
I need to begin seeking You out again, the way I was my last year in Calgary. I like me better in Thunder Bay, but I don't like how lax I've gotten in my search for Your truth. Just because there's no Tehillah here, it doesn't mean that I can't find something just as good, if not better, at bringing me into that place that You are. I so want to be there. I want to live there. I want to know that You have filled my empty heart, cleansed it, and made it the way You want it to be. I need to feel You always near me. I never know that You're with me all the time. Touch me, hold me, love me - take my breath away. Remind me of silence. Teach me again - pick up where we left off - about what silence is and who You are and why I need You.
I feel kind of small and lost, and I miss You, and I don't know what to do about it.
Show me.
"No arm around me can fully surround me like Yours.../No voice like Your voice can calm my fears,/And no prayers like Your prayers can move me to tears./And no arm around me can fully surround me like Yours." - Iona
I want to know You like this. I want You to be the completion of me. I don't want to be stuck in the wanting and wishing and hoping and sometimes achieving that is only of this world, this body, this life. You have so much more to offer me, so much more to give me, and it all ends in happiness and joy and glory. How much am I missing out on because I can't find Your finishing in my life? I don't want to wait for Heaven before I am refined, I want it to happen now. Help me find the place You want me to be. Help me find You. Help me learn who and what You want me to be - the who and what You see in me.
Am I meant to be set apart as I am? For wha tpurpose? I have always felt different, separate. There is a reason for this feeling, I know that there is...
Sometimes it's frustrating, though. I want to be a part of the group, but something keeps me from ever truly fitting in.
I feel like I understand things on a completely different level from everyone else. And other things, I just don't get at all.
Like holding Your hand, like feeling Your arms around me, like talking with You, hearing Your voice, feeling Your prayers, seeing the tears on Your face.
When do I get to experience all of this? It seems like so many others already have, and I'm left with my lone vision (which I'm sure I'm back on the wrong side of the wall again, or lost in the garden, or something) and nothing concrete to go on!
Like I said, set apart and different and lost and frustrated and confused and missing... You.
I know You know exactly where I am. Can You help me find You again? Please?
I'm so lost and confused.
Help me and love me and hold me. Let me know You again.
January 22, 2002
Heavens open
Glory falls upon us
Here in this place.
Placns are made
Beauty is found
Here in this place.
Brokennes healed
Sins forgiven
Here in this place.
Mercy carries us home.
Job 13:15
Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him; I will surely defend my ways to his face.
A girl in a white dress dancing barefoot in the rain (mercy & grace). Then she is beaten by unseen assailants. Through it all, she is looing at the sky with a smile on her face and her arms raised in praise of the living God.
Heavens open
Glory falls upon us
Mercy carries us
Brokenness healed
Sins forgiven
Beauty is found.
May 6, 2002
How can I lift something up
When it weighs so much
I can hardly breathe?
A solid rock beats with my chest
Not pounding with fear,
Or racing with excitement,
But labouring under this heaviness.
Each breath is a gift,
A powerful statement of life.
The struggle to be,
To continue with existence
Must someday slow to a halt.
Strength to love,
Strength to grieve,
Strength to say good-bye.
There is power couched in the tears of those who love,
And freedom comes to all who will believe.
Second-best isn't always good enough;
Teach us to hold You first.
We want to know You, to seek You fully.
We desire the same for our friends and our families.
Comfort those who mourn...
Free the souls who seek...
Grant us peace, O Mighty God.
Amen.
May 7, 2002
How do I write such truth with such authority, Lord? Where do the words, images, emotions come from? You & I both know that last night's poem is about what was on the others' souls. I still find it so odd to feel the spiritual side of things... please give me discernment regarding my impressions; I know that a sensitive soul can be misled at times.
Why do I write poetry like this Why do my songs speak of uncertainly, or sorrow, or doubt? Why do my stories tackle the hard bits? Why is my writing not joyous and inherently hopeful?
Please... show me the purpose of my writing and give me the means to achieve Your goal for me in this area of my life.
Thank You for my Gifts, God. And thank You for allowing me to use so many of them in Your service.
Amen.
June 18, 2002
4 people around me.
I begin to sing "Amazing Grace".
Their faces change, stretch into long, angry glares.
I wake up in my own bed, still hearing the song in my mind. I am afraid. I don't dare to open my eyes for fear of what I may see, just as I don't feel safe turning to check the time.
God, was this a dream, or a prophecy, or what was really happening on the spiritual plane at that momen?
Have I 4 demons struggling for control? If so, Lord, I beseech You to dispatch some of Your Host to aide my spirit in dislodging them. I mean that oath I took today, and I know that You will honour that vow.
Thank You, Father, for Your continued blessings and presence in my life.
Amen.
October 4, 2002
No pictures
I am blind
No words
I am deaf
No touch
I am numb
No scent
I am lost
No tears
I am unfeeling
No song
I am musicless
No breath
I am lost
I am dying
I am dead
I cannot breathe
I cannot cry
Nervous anxiety resides within
I am in shock
I am dazed
I cannot blink
I cannot move
I cannot sit still
Hello. Your touch is all I was waiting for. It's all I wanted. It's all I need. Is this realization the cause of nervous anxiety? I keep getting lost in my everyday stuff... work, autism, money, music, being in charge, tolerating stupidity (or not, as the case may be). No tears. Still no tears. Not yet. Never now ever now. I am solitary. You're all I have. No pictures. I want the pictures. They're like hearing Your voice. I may never hear You audibly speak to me, but at least I see what You want me to know and to see. How do they do that? How do they have so many people they're close to; how do they move from being serious to being silly and irresponsible so quickly, so easily? How do they be so completely NOT ME??? I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lost. I 'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lost.
Find me.
Undated, 2003
The silver dress. The moon dress. Reflection.
All I have to say is
You are.
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