After a week like this, how can one not be left feeling heavy? Heavy with the weight of sorrow and fear, heavy with the knowledge that we can try to solve it by duking it out in the political arena, but evil never hides and people can always find it and use it. Maybe we are never fully safe from each other, a thought that makes me weep. Because we need people. We need each other so desperately.
There are a million reasons to lose our faith in humanity. Look around. Boston might be the biggest indicator right now but every crime committed, every judgmental comment slung about, every voice raised in anger at another, can turn into a cacophony, reverberating through us all, trying to drown out everything else.
But.
Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it. ~Helen Keller
I found this quote tonight on Kelle Hampton's blog and it sunk into my soul, dripping into the sadness and the hurt and filling the holes. Because the truth of that one statement can be stronger than the cacophonous evil. Evil doesn't win. But that truth lies in our perspective, in the way we see the world. We could focus only on the first part, on the real-and-never-changing truth that the suffering will always be a part of our reality. And we could leave it there, losing hope. Losing faith. Never taking a step to rectify it. That's one way to see the world.
But it's not the only way. The perspective can shift, the angle can tilt. We can choose what we see, what we zoom in on, how we respond. Perspective and action. A better world might actually hinge on those two powerful things. This week, I attended an Earth Day conference with Dr. Jane Goodall as keynote speaker. Her message that night (the afternoon of the bombing in Boston, though I was not aware of it at the time) was that even though there are so many problems in our world- people hungry, forests decimated, species endangered- the story isn't over. The die has not been cast. She outlined the reasons why she still has hope, why she has not given up. Three things: human intellect, the resiliency of Nature, and the indomitable human spirit. The indomitable human spirit. Indomitable. As in: cannot be dominated. Too strong to be destroyed.
As humans, we are capable of building mountains of hate and judgment and anger... and sometimes those mountains can seem to blot out the view. But we are also capable of love and forgiveness and empathy. We have the power to seek the beautiful amid the brutal, climbing those mountains, dominating them with our indomitable spirits. Let compassion guide our eyes and our hands and our spirits, and there is nothing we cannot do.
Prayers to Boston tonight. Let's go climb some mountains.
Showing posts with label Kelle Hampton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kelle Hampton. Show all posts
Friday, April 19, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Standing for Something
Currently Reading: Charlotte Bronte: A Passionate Life by Lyndall Gordon and Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (My two favorite women authors at once! What is this madness?!)
A lot of deep thoughts have been swirling through my mind recently, prompted and inspired by many unrelated pieces all coming together to somehow influence each other. These pieces include, among other things, the last election cycle, Charlotte Bronte, another blog post, and a Fun song. And after much deep thinking and an inspiring email from my slightly-older-but-so-much-wiser-cousin, I'm ready to write it out.
This blog is one of many pieces in my life where I express myself creatively- my journal, my kitchen, my poetry, my job, and even my schoolwork are other areas of my life that serve as creative outlets and allow me to be true to myself through free expression. I relish these creative outlets, I demand them for my wellbeing and my sanity. Besides the blog world, social media gives us even more outlets for free expression: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Goodreads, and more abound to serve us. We are granted parts of the canvas and encouraged to sling our paint wherever we wish. They serve dual purposes: connecting us to others and giving us a means of creative expression. I am not engaged on all of these sites because I don't have the time or the interest for them all. But I add to my Goodreads shelves and I update my Facebook status and I spend much of my online time seeing what my friends and relatives are up to as well. There is so much good from all of this- seeing pictures of my growing nieces and nephews, messaging a friend to pick a time to get together, or sharing a joke with a faraway friend. All of this is necessary to sustain my relationships with others.
There's an underbelly to it all, of course. I think the last election cycle this past fall proved that social media can be dirty. Facebook became a place where political opinions were shared, misunderstandings arose, and debates ensued. In some ways, I think this is healthy. Every person not only has a valid opinion, but has the right to express that opinion. There is no limit, no hindrance to our ability to express ourselves on social media, and this is especially true when we feel strongly about certain topics. But there is something about this that scares me and it is epitomized in the comment bar. Facebook doesn't just allow us to post our own opinions, but we have the constant ability to comment on the conversations, threads, posts, and shares of others. While this seems innocuous, I actually believe it leads us to the impression that we all have the right to talk each other down without listening to what others have to say. It cuts out constructive and informative conversation, and whittles our dialogue with others down to mere sentences. Social media allows us to communicate our opinions and make our voices heard, while simultaneously drowning out our voices because of the cacophony it produces.
*Enter Charlotte Bronte* I have been reading a wonderful biography exploring Charlotte's life and its influences upon her works. I have not only learned much about Jane Eyre through discovering Charlotte's life, but I have also gained a deeper understanding and respect for women during the 19th century, and female writers in particular. While I do want to discuss her and Louisa further in a separate blog post soon, there was a portion that struck me and stuck with me. After the deaths of her siblings, Charlotte was left living in Haworth, on a lonely Yorkshire moor, taking care of her ailing father. While this did often influence Charlotte's depression, Lyndall Gordon makes it clear that her isolation and loneliness, her separation from others and especially from society, made it possible for her art and voice to develop. While she makes this point right when Charlotte is about to write Villette, it actually is true of the circumstances surrounding her earlier novels too. Her secluded life at Haworth influenced the person she was- her opinions of London, her ease in society, her view of women's roles, and her passionate expression. If Charlotte was a different man's daughter or had lived in a bustling metropolis, perhaps the world would not have been gifted with her voice. I can only imagine the silence, the seclusion, the loneliness Charlotte lived with every day, for that does not exist for us anymore, as it was for her. She created her own mental stimulation and her voice flourished in the silence. Only with her letters and her novels was she able to champion her opinions and views, and so she did so with fervor. As I have read, I couldn't help wondering whether some form of detachment is necessary to inspiration, to art, to forming one's voice. Charlotte herself wrote in a letter to Mrs. Gaskell about the "need for isolation in order to be true to herself."
*Enter Fun song* Their new song, called "Some Nights", to be exact. It is a beautiful song, a moving commentary on war, particularly the Iraq War. The lyrics are outstanding, sheer poetry. (Check out this music video- goosebumps, I tell you.) These are the songs I love, the ones that make me stop and read the lines and feel their meanings in the depths of my soul. There are two lines that have haunted me the past few days: the first says, "I found a martyr in my bed tonight/stops my bones from wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am, oh who am I?" The second: "Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for/ What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know." Powerful stuff right there. And it hits me because knowing what we stand for, what we believe in, what matters to us, is essential to our growth as individuals, to the inward development of our characters throughout our lives.
There are things I stand for, things I believe in with my whole heart and soul. But communicating those things has become the barrier that I cannot cross, the locked gate I can find no key for. Since November, and even much earlier, I have struggled with the truth that in order to avoid the negative comments of others or the debilitating, faceless debates with ones I love, I must hide who I am, that I am actually not free to express myself and therefore, am not free to be who I am. As a person who seeks expression through my writing, through my creative outlets, it frustrates me and makes me feel hindered because I am constrained by the very medium that is supposed to free us all. Another blogger, Kelle Hampton on Enjoying the Small Things actually just wrote about a similar point the other night, which was another part of the catalyst that inspired me to write this post. Her post was about the negative criticism that comes from others when we share and connect and bare our souls through social media. She wrote, "Validation is an interesting thing though, and no matter how strong or unphased by criticism we are, there is an undeniable human desire to have people like what we feel passionate about--our art, our words, our stories, our styles, our writing, our opinions. It's why we sometimes feel hesitant to publish or share. What will people think?"
Of course, I could counter all of this by asking why is it so important for me to express my opinions at all? Publicly expressing my opinions or publicly affirming what I stand for does not make them any more solid or real. So why share them at all? And in the same vein, why do I feel the need to comment on the opinions and beliefs of others? Why do I have the right to insert myself into another person's mind and life? Perhaps the real answer lies in figuring out the role that personal expression should take in the world of social media.
Am I bothered that people I love do not and probably will not ever truly know or understand me? If I was being honest with myself, the answer is yes. What I believe and what I stand for are part of who I am. I want to share that, not to make others think the way I do, but so that I too will be heard. So what to do? Do I limit my interactions on social media to avoid anything that might anger or be misunderstood? Do I step back from it all, in order to let the silence inspire my own life? Do I express my inner thoughts and share my beliefs, despite the criticism?
I want to stand up. I want to live what I believe. And I want to find my voice. The question is finding a way to do so.
A lot of deep thoughts have been swirling through my mind recently, prompted and inspired by many unrelated pieces all coming together to somehow influence each other. These pieces include, among other things, the last election cycle, Charlotte Bronte, another blog post, and a Fun song. And after much deep thinking and an inspiring email from my slightly-older-but-so-much-wiser-cousin, I'm ready to write it out.
This blog is one of many pieces in my life where I express myself creatively- my journal, my kitchen, my poetry, my job, and even my schoolwork are other areas of my life that serve as creative outlets and allow me to be true to myself through free expression. I relish these creative outlets, I demand them for my wellbeing and my sanity. Besides the blog world, social media gives us even more outlets for free expression: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Goodreads, and more abound to serve us. We are granted parts of the canvas and encouraged to sling our paint wherever we wish. They serve dual purposes: connecting us to others and giving us a means of creative expression. I am not engaged on all of these sites because I don't have the time or the interest for them all. But I add to my Goodreads shelves and I update my Facebook status and I spend much of my online time seeing what my friends and relatives are up to as well. There is so much good from all of this- seeing pictures of my growing nieces and nephews, messaging a friend to pick a time to get together, or sharing a joke with a faraway friend. All of this is necessary to sustain my relationships with others.
There's an underbelly to it all, of course. I think the last election cycle this past fall proved that social media can be dirty. Facebook became a place where political opinions were shared, misunderstandings arose, and debates ensued. In some ways, I think this is healthy. Every person not only has a valid opinion, but has the right to express that opinion. There is no limit, no hindrance to our ability to express ourselves on social media, and this is especially true when we feel strongly about certain topics. But there is something about this that scares me and it is epitomized in the comment bar. Facebook doesn't just allow us to post our own opinions, but we have the constant ability to comment on the conversations, threads, posts, and shares of others. While this seems innocuous, I actually believe it leads us to the impression that we all have the right to talk each other down without listening to what others have to say. It cuts out constructive and informative conversation, and whittles our dialogue with others down to mere sentences. Social media allows us to communicate our opinions and make our voices heard, while simultaneously drowning out our voices because of the cacophony it produces.
*Enter Charlotte Bronte* I have been reading a wonderful biography exploring Charlotte's life and its influences upon her works. I have not only learned much about Jane Eyre through discovering Charlotte's life, but I have also gained a deeper understanding and respect for women during the 19th century, and female writers in particular. While I do want to discuss her and Louisa further in a separate blog post soon, there was a portion that struck me and stuck with me. After the deaths of her siblings, Charlotte was left living in Haworth, on a lonely Yorkshire moor, taking care of her ailing father. While this did often influence Charlotte's depression, Lyndall Gordon makes it clear that her isolation and loneliness, her separation from others and especially from society, made it possible for her art and voice to develop. While she makes this point right when Charlotte is about to write Villette, it actually is true of the circumstances surrounding her earlier novels too. Her secluded life at Haworth influenced the person she was- her opinions of London, her ease in society, her view of women's roles, and her passionate expression. If Charlotte was a different man's daughter or had lived in a bustling metropolis, perhaps the world would not have been gifted with her voice. I can only imagine the silence, the seclusion, the loneliness Charlotte lived with every day, for that does not exist for us anymore, as it was for her. She created her own mental stimulation and her voice flourished in the silence. Only with her letters and her novels was she able to champion her opinions and views, and so she did so with fervor. As I have read, I couldn't help wondering whether some form of detachment is necessary to inspiration, to art, to forming one's voice. Charlotte herself wrote in a letter to Mrs. Gaskell about the "need for isolation in order to be true to herself."
*Enter Fun song* Their new song, called "Some Nights", to be exact. It is a beautiful song, a moving commentary on war, particularly the Iraq War. The lyrics are outstanding, sheer poetry. (Check out this music video- goosebumps, I tell you.) These are the songs I love, the ones that make me stop and read the lines and feel their meanings in the depths of my soul. There are two lines that have haunted me the past few days: the first says, "I found a martyr in my bed tonight/stops my bones from wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am, oh who am I?" The second: "Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for/ What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know." Powerful stuff right there. And it hits me because knowing what we stand for, what we believe in, what matters to us, is essential to our growth as individuals, to the inward development of our characters throughout our lives.
There are things I stand for, things I believe in with my whole heart and soul. But communicating those things has become the barrier that I cannot cross, the locked gate I can find no key for. Since November, and even much earlier, I have struggled with the truth that in order to avoid the negative comments of others or the debilitating, faceless debates with ones I love, I must hide who I am, that I am actually not free to express myself and therefore, am not free to be who I am. As a person who seeks expression through my writing, through my creative outlets, it frustrates me and makes me feel hindered because I am constrained by the very medium that is supposed to free us all. Another blogger, Kelle Hampton on Enjoying the Small Things actually just wrote about a similar point the other night, which was another part of the catalyst that inspired me to write this post. Her post was about the negative criticism that comes from others when we share and connect and bare our souls through social media. She wrote, "Validation is an interesting thing though, and no matter how strong or unphased by criticism we are, there is an undeniable human desire to have people like what we feel passionate about--our art, our words, our stories, our styles, our writing, our opinions. It's why we sometimes feel hesitant to publish or share. What will people think?"
Of course, I could counter all of this by asking why is it so important for me to express my opinions at all? Publicly expressing my opinions or publicly affirming what I stand for does not make them any more solid or real. So why share them at all? And in the same vein, why do I feel the need to comment on the opinions and beliefs of others? Why do I have the right to insert myself into another person's mind and life? Perhaps the real answer lies in figuring out the role that personal expression should take in the world of social media.
Am I bothered that people I love do not and probably will not ever truly know or understand me? If I was being honest with myself, the answer is yes. What I believe and what I stand for are part of who I am. I want to share that, not to make others think the way I do, but so that I too will be heard. So what to do? Do I limit my interactions on social media to avoid anything that might anger or be misunderstood? Do I step back from it all, in order to let the silence inspire my own life? Do I express my inner thoughts and share my beliefs, despite the criticism?
I want to stand up. I want to live what I believe. And I want to find my voice. The question is finding a way to do so.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Blooming Amidst the Thorns
Currently Reading: Dubliners by James Joyce
Well, today was not the day I was hoping for. I hoped I would be sitting in Panera, eating a delicious quiche, and suddenly get a phone call from my husband telling me he got the job- the teaching job he has been waiting for and worked so hard for and gone through two rounds of interviews for. And then I would scream in the middle of this crowded restaurant while everyone looked at me like I was insane but I wouldn't care because our prayers would finally be answered and my husband would finally be a teacher.
But no. I am sitting in a Panera with a caramel latte and a bagel, trying to squash the big tumor of disappointment and sadness that grew in my stomach in the two seconds it took for my husband to check his email this morning and tell me, "I didn't get it." In those two seconds, the sun got darker and the doors in our figurative hallway seemed to slam shut.
We have dealt with disappointment before. In this economy, with the teaching profession difficult to break into, we have gone through three years of applications, resumes, hoping, praying, waiting, only to end in a helpless sadness that barges in like an unwelcome houseguest. And while we trust in God's plan and always feel better in the morning, that initial disappointment never gets easier to bear.
But life goes on and we smile and pick ourselves up and remind each other of all the things we have and everything we are looking forward to: growing herbs on our balcony, going to Ireland, watching Shakespeare plays, making a summer reading list, going to Madison's Dairy Expo. You know, the things that really count.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the midst of reading Eden's Outcasts (which I finished and loved and even wept over... stay tuned for another blog post on that one... it was too good not to discuss it more), a certain book came in the mail that I had ordered several months ago: a memoir called Bloom: Finding Beauty in the Unexpected. Discussing it today is just the medicine I need right now- just another example that God truly pulls the perfect book off of the shelf right when we need it.
I have been following Kelle Hampton's blog, "Enjoying the Small Things" for almost a year now. Kelle writes honestly and openly about her life- raising two girls, discovering her purpose, enjoying life. She is a phenomenal writer, as well as an amazingly talented photographer and her passions find full release through her lovely blog. I have found inspiration, laughs, and a great read every time I visit. Two years ago, Kelle gave birth to her second daughter, a beautiful, perfect girl who happened to have Down Syndrome. This came as a blow to Kelle and her family, who had never known or expected it. Lying in her hospital bed, Kelle saw all of the plans and hopes she had envisioned for her life and her girls disappear. The next year was a whirlwind of emotions and anxieties for Kelle, but also a time of personal growth and the blossoming of a deep love affair between Kelle and her baby Nella. It was also a learning experience, as Kelle wrestled with her life's expectations and coming to terms with the changes she now had to embrace. Bloom documents this life-changing year as Kelle honestly shares her thoughts and worries, and explores how this once shocking diagnosis changed her outlook on her expectations and taught her how to bloom where you are planted. Coupled with her amazing photographs, this book really is like opening a door into her life and discovering an amazing woman, mother, wife, and friend.
Kelle's blog has always inspired me to relish the little things in my life and encouraged my "glass half full" mentality. But this book truly took me inside her struggles as a mother who only wants the best for her little girls. Her open honesty made me cry multiple times as I read, but much of her writing made me laugh out loud, for not only is she freakin' hilarious, but she writes as though she is sitting there with you, with pajamas on and tea in hand at the world's best slumber party. I may not be a mother yet, but my soul ached for her and cheered with her as she discovered the new and unexpected, but no less beautiful, life that she has been blessed with.
Today, Nella is a beautiful two-year-old, talking and walking, and cute as a button. Kelle's new life experiences has turned into a crusade for educating others on DS and raising money for the National Down Syndrome Society, in order to promote the wellbeing of all individuals with DS. Her work is inspiring and her attitude toward life even more so. I find it amazing to see how Kelle turned an unexpected twist in life into something so positive; we can all take a leaf out of her book.
Photo courtesy of Kelle HamptonNo matter where we are in life, disappointment and unplanned surprises will rock our world. Ironically enough, I am struggling with a big mug of disappointment even today. But these instances test our character and reveal who we truly are. Sure, I often get stressed over unimportant details in life. But I like to think that when my boat is rocked, I handle it with more grace than I knew I had. It is a great reassurance to hear how others handle adversity and find that no one is alone in their struggles. I truly realized, through Kelle's story, that if life is too comfortable, we tend to take it for granted. Instead, it's the struggles which make the triumphs sweeter. The perfect life does exist, but it is all in our perspective. A good reminder for me today... and every day, for that matter.
If you need an inspiring, thought-provoking, and lovely read, please buy Bloom. It is too good to pass up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's amazing how much better I feel after writing it all out. Forget therapy- this blog is the perfect therapist, complete with couch and tissues. That felt good.
Before I go, I want to give a shout-out to a new blog I have discovered that I think you all will enjoy. Jillian is my new blogger friend and name twin who shares my love of literature and writing about her reading journey. Her writing is beautiful and her posts range from funny to inspiring. Check her out!
What are some of the simple things that make life sweeter for you? I'd love to hear about it! Have a great week!
Well, today was not the day I was hoping for. I hoped I would be sitting in Panera, eating a delicious quiche, and suddenly get a phone call from my husband telling me he got the job- the teaching job he has been waiting for and worked so hard for and gone through two rounds of interviews for. And then I would scream in the middle of this crowded restaurant while everyone looked at me like I was insane but I wouldn't care because our prayers would finally be answered and my husband would finally be a teacher.
But no. I am sitting in a Panera with a caramel latte and a bagel, trying to squash the big tumor of disappointment and sadness that grew in my stomach in the two seconds it took for my husband to check his email this morning and tell me, "I didn't get it." In those two seconds, the sun got darker and the doors in our figurative hallway seemed to slam shut.
We have dealt with disappointment before. In this economy, with the teaching profession difficult to break into, we have gone through three years of applications, resumes, hoping, praying, waiting, only to end in a helpless sadness that barges in like an unwelcome houseguest. And while we trust in God's plan and always feel better in the morning, that initial disappointment never gets easier to bear.
But life goes on and we smile and pick ourselves up and remind each other of all the things we have and everything we are looking forward to: growing herbs on our balcony, going to Ireland, watching Shakespeare plays, making a summer reading list, going to Madison's Dairy Expo. You know, the things that really count.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the midst of reading Eden's Outcasts (which I finished and loved and even wept over... stay tuned for another blog post on that one... it was too good not to discuss it more), a certain book came in the mail that I had ordered several months ago: a memoir called Bloom: Finding Beauty in the Unexpected. Discussing it today is just the medicine I need right now- just another example that God truly pulls the perfect book off of the shelf right when we need it.
I have been following Kelle Hampton's blog, "Enjoying the Small Things" for almost a year now. Kelle writes honestly and openly about her life- raising two girls, discovering her purpose, enjoying life. She is a phenomenal writer, as well as an amazingly talented photographer and her passions find full release through her lovely blog. I have found inspiration, laughs, and a great read every time I visit. Two years ago, Kelle gave birth to her second daughter, a beautiful, perfect girl who happened to have Down Syndrome. This came as a blow to Kelle and her family, who had never known or expected it. Lying in her hospital bed, Kelle saw all of the plans and hopes she had envisioned for her life and her girls disappear. The next year was a whirlwind of emotions and anxieties for Kelle, but also a time of personal growth and the blossoming of a deep love affair between Kelle and her baby Nella. It was also a learning experience, as Kelle wrestled with her life's expectations and coming to terms with the changes she now had to embrace. Bloom documents this life-changing year as Kelle honestly shares her thoughts and worries, and explores how this once shocking diagnosis changed her outlook on her expectations and taught her how to bloom where you are planted. Coupled with her amazing photographs, this book really is like opening a door into her life and discovering an amazing woman, mother, wife, and friend.
Kelle's blog has always inspired me to relish the little things in my life and encouraged my "glass half full" mentality. But this book truly took me inside her struggles as a mother who only wants the best for her little girls. Her open honesty made me cry multiple times as I read, but much of her writing made me laugh out loud, for not only is she freakin' hilarious, but she writes as though she is sitting there with you, with pajamas on and tea in hand at the world's best slumber party. I may not be a mother yet, but my soul ached for her and cheered with her as she discovered the new and unexpected, but no less beautiful, life that she has been blessed with.
Today, Nella is a beautiful two-year-old, talking and walking, and cute as a button. Kelle's new life experiences has turned into a crusade for educating others on DS and raising money for the National Down Syndrome Society, in order to promote the wellbeing of all individuals with DS. Her work is inspiring and her attitude toward life even more so. I find it amazing to see how Kelle turned an unexpected twist in life into something so positive; we can all take a leaf out of her book.
Photo courtesy of Kelle HamptonNo matter where we are in life, disappointment and unplanned surprises will rock our world. Ironically enough, I am struggling with a big mug of disappointment even today. But these instances test our character and reveal who we truly are. Sure, I often get stressed over unimportant details in life. But I like to think that when my boat is rocked, I handle it with more grace than I knew I had. It is a great reassurance to hear how others handle adversity and find that no one is alone in their struggles. I truly realized, through Kelle's story, that if life is too comfortable, we tend to take it for granted. Instead, it's the struggles which make the triumphs sweeter. The perfect life does exist, but it is all in our perspective. A good reminder for me today... and every day, for that matter.
If you need an inspiring, thought-provoking, and lovely read, please buy Bloom. It is too good to pass up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's amazing how much better I feel after writing it all out. Forget therapy- this blog is the perfect therapist, complete with couch and tissues. That felt good.
Before I go, I want to give a shout-out to a new blog I have discovered that I think you all will enjoy. Jillian is my new blogger friend and name twin who shares my love of literature and writing about her reading journey. Her writing is beautiful and her posts range from funny to inspiring. Check her out!
What are some of the simple things that make life sweeter for you? I'd love to hear about it! Have a great week!
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