cry

I listened to this song on repeat while walking through Chicago a couple of weeks ago and there’s something about it that just makes me come alive. Ya know?

Also listen to it while doing research and cleaning my room. And this album. Mmhmm.

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cry

A quote from a book about postmodernism that I read while on a mission trip

“Lived Religion is the kind of religion that deserves our attention—that demand our attention. What we believe about literature, and about language, underpins our participation in literary culture; this is true for professional and recreational readers and writers alike.” (Postmodern Belief: American Literature and Religion since 1960, page139)

 This is Amy Hungerford making me feel like I need to apply to more grad schools so i can work with her. ugh.

A quote from a book about postmodernism that I read while on a mission trip

Marina Abravomic

Marina Abravomic: The Artist is Present

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There is a lot of shocking content and a lot of nudity in this film. It takes quite a bit of maturity and appreciation of performance art in order to look beyond the pure shock value of some of these acts. For these reasons, I cannot recommend it.

However, from 58minutes on, Marina performs a three month piece in which she sits still in the MoMA all day and people come to individually to sit in front of her. They make eye contact. Many cry. Some laugh and clutch their hearts. There are no words spoken.

There is something so fragile and human about eye contact. Have you ever tried to make eye contact with a stranger for thirty seconds? Imagine all day everyday? Marina is in physical pain from sitting and I can only imagine the emotional turmoil also within her.

But what stuck me was:

  1. people are so beautiful and so diverse. every face was unique and i found myself in awe that we are all the same species. i am reminded that it takes one little pause to take in someone’s face and just see how enormously unique and breathtaking we all are.i am left in immense wonder at our creator and i get an overwhelming sense of the mystery of our own existence.
  2. when i moved to London, i was overwhelmed that so many humans existed: seeing so many people so frequently lead to one of the most prolonged existential and spiritual crises of my life. One part of that crisis was that i struggled unlike ever before to believe that God cares about or knows the individual. with this piece, however, i experienced coexisting doubt and assurance about God’s relationship to the individual. from one look at their face, it seemed apparent  that each human carried such amounts of suffering and life that they seemed overflowing with the presence of God. and yet there were so many of them. there were far too many for marina to take in without extreme emotional and physical repercussions. its making me reflect on Jesus in a way i cant quite articulate: on his humanity and on his diety, on the way they coexist, on why i still believe that is true. but it’s beyond words; the answer is found in silence and tears.
Marina Abravomic

on traveling alone and the ministry of presence

I didn’t realize I was alone until I was at the Bean. I went to take a picture (ya just gotta do it) and realized I was the only one there who was alone and taking a picture. I realized it again later that day when I had the sudden thought, “I wonder how safe it is to walk alone in this market” and looked around to see if there were any other women walking around alone. There weren’t.

12291800_10208588496056272_6994239967406652241_o Continue reading “on traveling alone and the ministry of presence”

on traveling alone and the ministry of presence

Rilke on sadness as an entity 

I’ve begun to associate sadness with shame and while I think that we must know the difference between mood swings and true sorrow, there is hardly anything as human and as alive and as liminal as sadness. I wonder what the world would be if we learn to cry not only for our own hearts, but for our friends and for the people going home to once-filled-now-empty beds.

 

RILKE

Read the whole thing at brain pickings.

Rilke on sadness as an entity