tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41870777360621090772024-02-18T21:14:36.687-08:00outside the Gray"Break, break, break, on thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter the thoughts that arise in me."
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.comBlogger158125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-62057048705917350932014-09-25T07:06:00.001-07:002014-09-25T07:06:54.511-07:00"A Spirituality of Transfiguration"
<p>"Spirituality is the art of transfiguration. We should not force ourselves to change by hammering our lives into any predetermined shape. We do not need to operate according to the idea of a predetermined program or plan for our lives. Rather, we need to practice a new art of attention to the inner rhythm of our days and lives. This attention brings a new awareness of our own human and divine presence. A dramatic example of this kind of transfiguration is one all parents know. You watch your children carefully, but one day they surprise you: You still recognize them, but your knowledge of them is insufficient. You have to start listening to them all over again.<br></p>
<p>It is far more creative to work with the idea of mindfulness than with the idea of will. Too often people try to change their lives by using the will as a kind of hammer to beat their life into proper shape. The intellect identifies the goal of the program, and the will accordingly forces the life into that shape. This way of approaching the sacredness of one's own presence is externalist and violent. It brings you falsely outside yourself, and you can spend years lost in the wilderness of your own mechanical, spiritual programs. You can perish in a famine of your own making.</p>
<p>If you work with a different rhythm, you will come easily and naturally home to yourself. Your soul knows the geography of your destiny. Your soul alone has the map of your future, therefore, you can trust this indirect, oblique side of yourself. If you do, it will take you where you need to go, but more important it will teach you a kindness of rhythm in your journey. There are no general principles for this art of being. Yet the signature of this unique journey is inscribed deeply in each soul. If you attend to yourself and seek to come into your presence, you will find exactly the right rhythm for your own life. The senses are generous pathways that can bring you home. </p>
<p>A renewal, indeed a complete transfiguration of your life, can come through attention to your senses. Your senses are the guides to take you deep into the inner world of your heart. The greatest philosophers admit that to a large degree all knowledge comes through the senses. The senses are our bridges to the world. Human skin is porous; the world flows through you. Your senses are large pores that let the world in. By being attuned to the wisdom of your senses, you will never become an exile in your own life, an outsider lost in an external spiritual place that your will and intellect have constructed."</p>
<p>-<em><u>Anam Cara</u> by John O'Donohue</em></p>
Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-43693844358400726972014-06-27T14:14:00.001-07:002014-06-27T14:14:51.840-07:00Gray Areas again<p> I'm still contemplating this idea of gray areas being a blending beyond distinction or separation. <em>(See post "<a href="http://outsidethegray.blogspot.com/">Gray Areas</a>"). </em>And then I found these:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RUvoCOzaYSs/U63ew8hWRiI/AAAAAAAAAQU/sGmP8NxvVyM/s458/Photo%25252020140627171438.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RUvoCOzaYSs/U63ew8hWRiI/AAAAAAAAAQU/sGmP8NxvVyM/s458/Photo%25252020140627171438.jpg" id="blogsy-1403903690432.0186" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="585" height="595"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Tg-ReMdXooQ/U63eyecWByI/AAAAAAAAAQc/G9hL0sDLX_M/s452/Photo%25252020140627171438.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Tg-ReMdXooQ/U63eyecWByI/AAAAAAAAAQc/G9hL0sDLX_M/s452/Photo%25252020140627171438.jpg" id="blogsy-1403903690438.5364" class="aligncenter" width="585" height="587" alt=""></a></div><p> These two pieces are called "The Kiss" (top) and "Lovers" (bottom) by a Polish artist Jarek Puczel. It represents a symbiotic union, no division of where one begins and the other ends.</p><p>Isn't that what intimacy looks like? Or at least what it's intended to look like?</p><p>COALESCE means to "come together and form one mass or whole." Plato said it like this in his work "Sophist", he said, "When a thing's own light and the light from something else, coalescing into one on bright and smooth surfaces, produce a form which yields a perception reversed from the way a thing normally looks." </p><p>Things so intimately and directly blended and joined that your very perception of its normal form is reversed...I want that. </p><p>I think that's what gray areas do for us, they reverse our perceptions...or at least they can if we would tap into it. "Nothing is a waste of time if you use the experience wisely." -Auguste Rodin </p><p>Maybe I'm not making any sense. Let me try putting it this way:</p><p>We typically label areas of doubt or uncertainty as gray areas; for example, the Bible is full of gray areas- areas that weren't totally unveiled, a lot was left for interpretation; more room being left for vague mystery than for solid-concrete-definitive answers. We all have gray areas like that in our life. So what if, instead of pushing these areas aside or leaving them to the perpetual back-burners, tossing them in the junk drawer, we turned to them and faced them head on; jumping off the cliffs of clarity into the illustrious pools of mystery and loom? What if we stopped soley relying on the obvious color choices on the pallet before us and we became immersed in the seach and discovery of the colors within the gray? </p><p>What if we stopped taking our observations of God from the obvious handouts passed down from vessel to vessel and we saught Him in the hidden realms where color has to be revealed and discovered? What if we coalesed with God? What if we coalesced with our gray areas, reversed our own perceptions and of those observing? </p><p>I think if we delved deep enough, lingered long enough, and soaked in the areas that we push out because they are messy, I think that we'd find Him there in ways beyond translation. I think we'd meet Him in an intimacy beyond words; a coalescing that leaves our perception forever reversed and areas of our lives so completely blended that we walk out looking like one of Jarek Puczel's paintings. </p><p>That's something I want. </p><p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-18525691493852773842014-06-11T09:49:00.002-07:002014-06-17T06:21:00.302-07:00Gray Areas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_tTH0sDcEQg/U5iIjj9JD5I/AAAAAAAAAPk/8Av88DFeioo/s1024/Photo%25252020140611124907.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_tTH0sDcEQg/U5iIjj9JD5I/AAAAAAAAAPk/8Av88DFeioo/s500/Photo%25252020140611124907.jpg" id="blogsy-1403010760319.7656" class="aligncenter" width="650" height="471" alt=""></a></div><p>A dear friend of the family has graciously been trying to teach me how to paint and from day one she has been trying to get me to detach myself from an expected outcome, to stop forcing the process and to let it flow. Easier said than done. I'm just now learning and beginning to scratch the surface of letting go and trusting God to direct my hands and allowing Him the liberty of speaking to me through art without any pretense of subject and without an agenda. </p><p>What you see is what came out of one of these painting sessions. And totally unbeknownced to me as to why, I was completely and utterly drawn to it. It resonated with me on such a deep level and I had no idea what the hell it was about or what it could possibly mean. So I just listened. </p><p>I had started painting a picture of my <a href="http://andthegray.blogspot.com/2014/06/strait-and-narrow.html">Wonderland</a> with pinks tones and trees and an ocean far off and myself in a spirit of freedom. Then I had this dark gray-navy color in my mind so I went over everything I had painting with it, still letting some pink show through. I put on the Narnia soundtrack (because it's deliciously mystical and haunting and I love it) and I painted. On my pallet was an array of colors, but it's amazing how all the colors I used made a gray when fully blended together. And as I reflected I began to see what it was all about. </p><p>Our gray areas are not void of color, they are simply beyond present distinction. There are hundreds of colors within the gray. </p><p>An excerpt from my journal: <font face="Courier New">Perhaps this is a truer picture of Wonderland. Sometimes the colors are obvious and sometimes it's too hard to tell what it is, only the assurance that it is something and perhaps several somethings- that in the microscopic details of the gray there is color and life and communion of the two, too intimate perhaps to separate...the first attempt is what I can see. The second is what I feel. What I can see is limited, but what I feel in connection to Wonder is infinite...limitless. </font></p><p>Gray areas have such a negative connotation but it is a truer picture of where real life actually happens. And how beautiful to know that those areas are not denied color but that those areas are made up of color meant to be experienced and known beyond the surface.</p><p>Take heart. You're not lost. </p><p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-52207865626992349952014-05-29T07:53:00.001-07:002014-05-29T10:33:32.294-07:00Once Upon A Dream
<p><em>"I know you</em></p>
<p><em>I walked with you once upon a dream</em></p>
<p><em><em><em>I know you</em></em></em></p>
<p><em><em><em><em>That look in your eye is so familiar a gleam</em></em></em></em></p>
<p><em><em><em><em><em>And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem</em></em></em></em></em></p>
<p><em><em><em><em><em>But if I know you, I know what you'll do </em></em></em></em></em></p>
<p><em><em><em><em><em>You'll love me at once</em></em></em></em></em></p>
<p><em><em><em><em><em>The way you did once upon a dream."</em></em></em></em></em></p>
<p><em><em><em><em> </em></em></em></em></p>
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<p>I feel in my marrow that upon arriving at heaven's shore this could very well be the scene. A divine, mysterious, innate familiarity. <em style="font-style: italic;">Yours is a face I have never seen before, but I know You. </em>That life before will seem a dream, a sleep from which we have woken upon which we will find our balance and be properly introduced.<i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"> <em>But if I know You I know what You'll do, You'll love me at once the way You did once upon a dream.</em></i></p>
Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-7791240287769322182014-02-01T11:28:00.001-08:002014-02-01T11:28:03.866-08:00It started with a portrait. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/12255608595/" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3690/12255608595_2b630a0941.jpg" id="blogsy-1391282881190.3848" class="aligncenter" width="617" height="272" alt=""></a></div>
<p>There once lived a lady whose home was a treasure to see. She had lived a long life and her home was her scrapbook, her testament to its fullness. On every table, on every wall, were scores upon scores of elegant picture frames filled with the most amazing images; a thrilling display of black and white, sepia, and color. </p>
<p>Most who walk into her home for the first time feel crowded and overwhelmed and think her a hoarder, and in a way they are right. She was a hoarder, a hoarder of experiences- which anyone who spends two seconds in her home can see. <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Each carefully selected frame holds a moment in time, a memory, an experience. </span></p>
<p>If you could still visit her now you would find her the kindest and most gracious of hostesses. She would not be offended by your distraction nor your dumbfoundedness over the mass array of photographs, rather she was always most welcoming to any sign of curiousity and freely offered her walls for your viewing pleasure. </p>
<p>"<em>Please, take a look around if you wish. Pictures are made to be looked at</em>." she would say.</p>
<p>And as you began to peruse her home, scanning the walls up and down, pointing every now and again, she'd be waiting where you left her, smiling as she listened to your every reaction, anticipating the photographs you would see next. </p>
<p>"<em>Oh my gosh! Is that you?</em>!" you would ask. And she would giggle and say, "<em>At one time, yes.</em>" </p>
<p>"<em>Wait...you really did that?!</em>" you might exclaim without thinking. "<em>Oh yes</em>." she'd say and she'd probably share a little about it depending on how fast you're moving. </p>
<p>All in all, you would be in awe. You would leave inspired. You would ever go on about your life remembering that woman and how she lived her life with extravagance and recklessness. You'd remember her as someone who dared to take on new things and never let fear or pressure or doubt stop her. If you could meet her, you'd admire her for all your days. I guarentee those pictures would have changed your life as much as they shaped hers.</p>
<p>The thing of it is that we would all admire her. We would all aspire to be like her whether or not our actions would ever affirm our desire. But for all her pictures you saw, not one depicts the questions and the grappling she faced in between the frames. And that's where most of us, who met her, faltered along the way. We left her home so ready to take on our desires and ambitions, but along our road to new life we began accumulating doubts, criticism, social pressures and challenges. Always remembering the images in her home, we press on until something somewhere breaks us and we give in. I suppose we all imagined her as never having faced those complications. I suppose we all convinced ourselves that she was different, her life was different, her time was different; not so like ours with all its restrictions and conditions. At least, that's what I told myself. </p>
<p>When I heard that she was dying I knew I had to go to her one last time. I went to her home where she called me back to her bedroom where she lay adorned in a stunning white lace gown, something I didn't notice upon entering because I had actually never been in this room. There was not a single frame, but there were a thousand pictures and not a single one of them was of her. Every wall, even the ceiling, was covered with portraits serving like her own wallpaper. She noticed my distraction, as she always had done. I was so overwhelmed by this room that I completely forgot my reason for being there, but somehow she knew. How, I'll never know.</p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"<em>These are all my friends and family,</em>" she began, "<em>people I've adopted through the years and people who adopted me. People come in my home and they see all the things I've done, all the places I've been, and all the adventures I've taken, but they never ask me how I did it, how I kept going all these years. If they had, I would have shown them this room. These people remind me of who I am and some remind me of who I am not. Oh life was not all a fairy tale for me as so many of my visitors assume. I faced questions I never found answers for, even now I go on asking some of the same old questions never forgotten, never answered. But questions are not as strong as revelations. These people were witnesses to my life. Some brought out the best in me, some brought out the worst in me, but every one helped me become who I am. What you see in my home are just things I did, but who I am is in this room. Determination will never last as long as relationships my dear.</em>" </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">She went on to tell me encounter after encounter as I went around the room pointing to portrait after portrait putting the depth and breadth of her memory on display. I learned more about her that day, about her life and how she got from frame to frame...I don't think I truly knew her before then. She was right. Who she was was in that room. She had answered a thousand unsung questions in my heart with every picture in her room. But before I left, I had one more question that needed answering and it wasn't the one I had come to ask her, "<em>May I take your picture?</em>" She just smiled and without words I understood her answer. I took out my phone and captured her portrait. Her face ever to remind me of the revelation she gave me. I thanked her, hugged her, and turned to leave. </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"<em>Before you go. Pick out a frame from one of my walls and take it with you, only leave the picture on the kitchen table. Make sure you fill it. Fill all the frames you can.</em>" Those were her last words to me. </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">When she died I went to her grave to leave her a token of thanks for her life, a portrait- my portrait. And in proper fashion I was once again dumbfounded, in awe, and overwhelmed by the piles of portraits surrounding her headstone; people forever standing witness to the woman she was; a ceremony to forever imprint how we would go about filling our frames. For me, it started with a portrait. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"<em>Fill all the frames you can.</em>"</span></p>
<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-32030341126086076122013-10-09T11:14:00.001-07:002013-10-10T07:07:40.847-07:00Be You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/10173906125/" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3742/10173906125_346e2c572c.jpg" id="blogsy-1381342448417.5442" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="650" height="488"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"<em>Vocation does not mean a goal that I pursue. It means a calling that I hear. Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it I must listen to my life telling me who I am. I must listen for the truths and values at the heart of my own identity not the standards by which I must live, but the standards by which I cannot help but live..."- Parker Palmer </em>(taken from <u>The Identity Project</u> by Patrick Dodson.)</span><br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/10174060193/" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8546/10174060193_b7a37fd54c.jpg" id="blogsy-1381342448401.4734" class="alignright" alt="" width="233" height="233"></a></div>
<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"After years of training to become a professional ballet dancer, artist <a href="http://www.sparrek.org/" target="_blank" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; outline: none; text-decoration: none; font-weight: 600;" title="">Kylli Sparre</a> realized it wasn’t the path for her and instead channeled passion for dance into photography and image manipulation. The influence of her past career is immediately apparent when viewing her conceptual photographs that depict posed figures, taunt with energy, at the peak of choreographed motion (taken from <a href="http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2013/10/sparrek-dance-photography/" target="_blank" title="">www.thisiscolossal.com</a>)."</span><br>
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<p>A common theme I hear when I talk to people is the struggle of having to choose a passion to focus on, whether they are just starting college and having to choose a major or whether they are out of school and now struggling with their choice and/or battling to find a career. Growing up we constantly have observers highlighting certain skills and advising a career path that expounds on those skills they've witnessed. For instance, in school I was really good at geometry and loved drawing buildings- I had multiple people tell me that I should be an architect, but I'm not an architect, that's not who I am; being good at geometry and loving old buildings are simply expressions of a very intricate identity, they are tells of deeper truths not direct lines to a future. Like I heard Patrick Dodson once say, "Who you are is not one thing, who you are is like fifty things." See it's not about finding that one thing that fits you, it's about listening to your life and bringing that uniqueness of you to the table and revolutionizing the status quo you face or have quite possibly erected yourself. <i style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Letting your identity inform and reignite your passion grows clarity inside of you, which leads to ideas, dreams, plans and then choices that become a daily reality."<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">-</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </span><u style="line-height: 1.3em;">The Identity Project</u><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">by Patrick Dodson</span></i></p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">
<p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">That's what I love about this photographer Kylli Sparre, she tried being one thing and that didn't work out (I'm sure we all can relate), but she didn't toss the one thing- she joined it with a melody of other passions creating something that is original, breathtakingly stunning, and uniquely her. </i></i></i></i></i></p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">
<p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">Don't just be another photographer. Don't just be another dancer. Be you. </i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">
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<div class="separator" style="text-align: left; clear: both;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><font size="1">*all photos were taken from <a href="http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2013/10/sparrek-dance-photography/" target="_blank" title="">www.thisiscolossal.com</a></font></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></div><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">
<p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">
<p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">
<p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </i></i></i></i></i></i></p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;">
<p><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"><i style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </i></i></i></p></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-10719768348772175482013-10-06T13:28:00.001-07:002013-10-06T13:28:54.457-07:00The 5 Senses<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">If I were blind, I would rely on touch and sound, smells and tastes to guide me; I would be totally dependent on my other senses to communicate the atmospheric circumstances back to me. The sea would not be known by the picturesque scenery, but by the smell of the salty air, the sound of the waves crashing and the gulls cawing, the feel of the sand and the water, and the taste of sea's spray on my lips.</span><br>
</p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">If I were deaf, the gap of sound would be filled with sights, sensations, smells, and tastes; true I would never know what wind would sound like, but I would see it and feel it in more ways than could be heard, perhaps I could smell the wind coming before it came and perhaps I could feel the birds sing when the sun rises because of the sensory song that it composes in me. </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">If I were stripped of my ability to feel, my eyes and my ears would be my hands, and my nose and my tongue my means of engaging and experiencing. True, I would never know texture or temperature, but I would know the fragrance of the grass and the taste of winter far more intimately than the simple touch of snow. </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">....</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">We say we serve an invisible God, yet we are made in His image. We say that God's voice is discerned and not heard, yet He speaks. We say that God is Spirit and cannot be touched, yet He touches us. We say that God is a heavenly being and is therefore not something to be tasted, yet He invites us to eat of His flesh and drink of His blood. We say that God is a mystery and therefore incomprehensible to even think of smelling a Deity, yet He says that "we are the aroma of Christ" to Him. </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">If God is not to be experienced through the senses, then why give us eyes with which we cannot see Him, ears with which we will never hear Him, hands with which we cannot touch Him, tongues with which we cannot taste Him, and noses with which it is inconceivable to smell Him? </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">And if He is not to be seen in full glory, then oughtn't He be known to us as the sea is known to the blind? And if He is not to be audibly heard, then oughtn't the gap be filled with sights, encounters, tastes and smells? And if He is not one that can be touched, oughtn't we be looking and listening- knowing His fragrance and His taste far more intimately? </span></p>
<p>Yet it remains that eyes are for seeing, ears for hearing, hands for touching, tongues for tasting and noses for smelling; these are the tools given to us to perceive, connect, and engage with all that is around us. He is Emmanuel. He is God with us. Do you know what He smells like? Do you know what He tastes like? Do you know what He feels like? Can you call out His voice from a thousand others? Can you pick out His face in a crowd? </p>
<p>I think He's waiting to be discovered. </p>
<p>I think He's waiting for you.</p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-75124917870759254992013-07-23T06:45:00.001-07:002013-07-23T06:45:45.055-07:00Planes, Trains and Automobiles<p> If our personality was embodied in a mode of transportation; what would you be?</p>
<p>Would you be a bicycle? Laid back, relaxed. Old school. More concerned with enjoying the journey rather than arriving at any certain point. </p>
<p>Would you be a racecar? Competitive, driven. Always on the fast track. Wants to be the best and to be recognized. </p>
<p>A bus? (Double-decker if you're English) Supportive, carrying. Main purpose is to serve others and help them get to where they need to be. A Behind the scenes type. </p>
<p>A sedan? A truck? An airplane? A train? Rollerskates?</p>
<p>The point I wish to raise is this; if you can assess what/who you are, are you in the right place? </p>
<p>If you are a bicycle and have found yourself on a fast track surrounded by people zooming past you; are you in the right place? Even if it's a fast track you seek, there's still something better suited to who you are than the Indy 500. And if you are a bus, but you're forcing yourself to serve as a watermelon truck (you've seen them, you know what I'm talking about); are you serving as you were made to serve?</p>
<p>Just a thought for the day. You decide.</p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-57265830931477303582013-06-23T09:09:00.001-07:002013-06-23T09:09:46.889-07:00Our Own Story by Frederick Buechner<p>"THE WORDS INSCRIBED on the Statue of Liberty where it stands on Bedloe's Island in New York harbor are familiar to all of us:</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Give me your tired, your poor,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Your huddled masses yearning to be free, </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me;</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>I lift my torch beside the golden door.</em></p>
<p>It is not great poetry, perhaps, and many a cynical word could be spoken about how the golden door that the goddess of liberty lights with her torch turned out for many to be the door to a wretchedness greater than any they had left behind on the teeming shores of their homelands. But nevertheless I think the old words have power in them still, if we let them, to move us, to touch us close to where we live. And the reason they have such power, I believe, is that one way or another they are words about us. Whether we're rich or poor, whether our forebears came to this country on the Mayflower or a New England slave ship or a nineteenth-century clipper or in a twentieth-century jet, those huddled masses are part of who all of us are, both as individuals and as a people. They are our fathers and mothers. They are our common past. Yet it goes farther and deeper than that. They are our past, and yet they are also ourselves. In countless ways, both hidden and not so hidden, it is you and I who are the homeless and tempest-tossed, waiting on our own Ellis Islands for the great promise to be kept of a new world, a new life, which we haven't yet found. We are the ones who yearn to breathe free. We stand not merely like them but in a sense with them beside the golden door. To read the story of our immigrant forebears as it is summarized on the base of the old statue is to read our own story, and maybe it is only when we see that it is our own story that we can really understand either it or ourselves." </p>
<p>-Originally published in <em>A Room Called Remember</em></p>
<p><a href="http://frederickbuechner.com/" target="_blank" title="">Click Here to read more by Frederick Buechner</a> </p>
<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-91631782332956128642013-04-24T21:04:00.001-07:002013-04-24T21:04:23.499-07:00Song 4 Thought: "All I Want" by Kodaline<p>I love it when song's lyrics are left open to interpretation, leaving room for the listener's creativity and soul to make their own story. One such song is "All I Want" by Kodaline. When I heard this song for the first time...well I'll let you listen to it first and then I'll share with you what I heard. </p>
<div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="500" height="305" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-cOCmC_m23E" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>
<p> <em>All I want is nothing more, to hear you knocking at my door. Cause if I could see your face once more, I could die a happy man I'm sure. When you said your last goodbye I died a little bit inside. I lay in tears in bed all night. Alone without you by my side.</em></p>
<p><em>But if you loved me, why'd you leave me? Take my body. Take my body. All I want is. And all I need is. To find somebody. I'll find somebody.</em></p>
<p><em>Like you oh...you...Like you. See you brought out the best of me. A part of me I've never seen. You took my soul and wiped it clean. Our love was made for movie screens. </em></p>
<p><em>...Like you are all </em></p>
<p><em><br>
</em></p>
<p>From the first verse, for whatever reason, all I could hear was the cry of a disciple that walked with Jesus (be it Peter, John, Thomas, etc) during those days before Jesus rose from the grave. For all they knew, He had left them and this song, for me, spoke of their pain, dissappointment and longing. Tear soaked bellows begging for answers, "Why'd you leave me?" and the heavy reminiscent reply of their Last Supper with Him, "Take my body..." In Him laid all their hopes and for 3 days they grieved over a tomb that held both the Trusted and all entrusted. For 3 days they endured the most painful dissappointment none of us now need never fear, a dead Messiah...</p>
<p>Such treasures of insight- priceless. </p>
<p>What did you first hear? What do you hear now? What else do you hear? Because I'd love to hear it. </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-44988902482292444362013-04-08T08:01:00.001-07:002013-04-08T08:01:35.910-07:00A Song for EastertideFor many Christians Easter is the celebrated Resurrection Sunday, the day Jesus Christ rose from the dead. Most churches honor significant days leading up to His resurrection, namely Palm Sunday and Good Friday, but for the most part Easter ends on Resurrection Sunday. <br />
Easter, I have learned, is a season of fifty days from Easter Sunday to the day of Pentecost in the liturgical calendar/Advent year. This time is known as Eastertide. Lent was a season preparing hearts to receive, recognizing our need for Him, as we led up to Easter; but now that Eastertide is upon us, it is time to receive. <br />
<br />
There is a song out right now called Stay by Rihanna featuring Mikky Ekko. It's a conversation between a man and a woman, but in its lyrics and steady hammering drone I hear another conversation -a confession meeting an invitation; the sweet raw conflict that exists before the final bolt cut letting Him in. In this song I hear the crossing over from Lent into Eastertide; from recognizing our need to receiving. <br />
<br />
Stay by Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko<br />
<br />
All along it was a fever<br />
A cold sweat hot-headed believer<br />
I threw my hands in the air, "Said show me something."<br />
He said, "If you dare come a little closer."<br />
<br />
Round and around and around and around we go<br />
Oh now tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know<br />
<br />
Not really sure how to feel about it<br />
Something in the way you move<br />
Makes me feel like I can't live without you<br />
Oh it takes me all the way<br />
I want you to stay<br />
<br />
It's not much of a life you're living<br />
It's not just something you take, it's given <br />
<br />
Round and around and around and around we go<br />
Oh now tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know<br />
<br />
Not really sure how to feel about it<br />
Something in the way you move<br />
Makes me feel like I can't live without you<br />
Oh it takes me all the way<br />
I want you to stay<br />
<br />
Ooh the reason I hold on <br />
Ooh cause I need this hole gone<br />
Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving<br />
Cause when you've never seen the light it's hard to know which one of us is caving<br />
<br />
Not really sure how to feel about it<br />
Something in the way you move<br />
Makes me feel like I can't live without you<br />
Oh it takes me all the way<br />
I want you to stay<br />
<br />
<br />
May we let Him stay. May we stay. It reminds me of the last line in "Come Thou Fount" saying, "Prone to wander Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart Lord take and seal it, seal it for Thy courts above." <br />
Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-61715431309028970112013-03-27T19:06:00.001-07:002013-03-27T19:06:31.063-07:00Lord's Prayer by Frederick Buechner<p> <strong>Excerpt from <u>Listening To Your Life</u> by Frederick Buechner:</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>In the Episcopal order of worship, the priest sometimes introduces the Lord's Prayer with the words, "Now as our Savior Christ hath taught us, we are bold to say..." The word <em>bold</em> is worth thinking about. We do well not to pray the prayer lightly. It takes guts to pray it at all. We can pray it in the unthinking and perfunctory way we usually do only by disregarding what we are saying. </p><p>"Thy will be done" is what we are saying. That is the climax of the first half of the prayer. We are asking God to be God. We are asking God to do not what we want but what God wants. We are asking God to make manifest the holiness that is now mostly hidden, to set free in all its terrible splendor the devastating power that is now mostly under restraint. "Thy kingdom come..on earth" is what we are saying. And if that were suddenly to happen, what then? What would stand and what would fall? Who would be welcomed in and who would be thrown the Hell out? Which if any of our most precious visions of what God is and of what human beings are would prove to be more or less on the mark and which would turn out to be phony as three-dollar bills? Boldness indeed. To speak those words is to invite the tiger out of the cage, to unleash a power that makes atomic power look like a warm breeze.</p><p>You need to be bold in another way to speak the second half. Give us. Forgive us. Don't test us. Deliver us. If it takes guts to face the omnipotence that is God's, it takes perhaps no less to face the impotence that is ours. We can do nothing without God. We can have nothing without God. Without God we are nothing. </p><p>It is only the words "Our Father" that make the prayer bearable. If God is indeed something like a father, then as something like children maybe we can risk approaching him anyway. </p></blockquote>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-65421306718480857692013-03-21T21:33:00.001-07:002013-03-21T21:33:10.414-07:00Justice is a Garment <p> Our generation has more global exposure than any other generation before it. Daily we have images of sufferring worldwide flashed before our eyes. As a result of having so much exposure, it takes a lot to grab our attention; everything, from movies to news and groups, have had to up the ante if they're to get people to take notice. And when it comes to social causes you find people so desperate for action that they too have upped the rating on their material in hopes that it'll serve as a bucket of cold water over a sleepy ADD generation. </p>
<p>There is so much gore, so much darkness, so much devastation in how people talk about issues facing our world. And I do believe that the people sharing their horror stories are genuinely hoping that it will get people to act and that they are of the best intentions, however, intentions will never serve as proper justification for anything. And nor will good intentions justify the further exploitation of the exploited.</p>
<p>Picture this: A man is trying to get a group to act against human trafficking, particularly as it pertains to the sex industry. In an effort to get at your heart he shares his chilling experience of seeing sex-trafficking first hand. He shares the disgust he felt at the scene and goes into somewhat graphic detail describing what he saw. He then shares how it changed his life and how he hopes hearing about it will change yours. The End. </p>
<p>I ask you; who is honored in this story? Certainly not the soul that they are trying to solicit action on behalf of. </p>
<p>Exposure is a delicate thing. Any exposure you gain is really an entrusting. You have been entrusted with someone's story and being entrusted with that story does not necessarily make it yours to share; and should you ever share it it should be shared in such a way that would honor them should they ever hear you tell it. </p>
<p>Try to think of it like this: In Genesis 9 we read of a certain time where Noah became drunk and was naked in his tent. One son came into the tent, saw his father's nakedness and ran and told his other two brothers. The other two brothers then wrapped a garment over their shoulders and walked backwards into the tent to cover their father in such a way that they would not see their father's nakedness and expose him. Which of the three brothers do you think were honored for their approach? </p>
<p>Is it our responsibility to expose or is it our responsibility to honorably cover? </p>
<p>At the heart of every issue and every story lies a person; a person with feelings and rights, a person worthy of protection- protection even from good intentions. And at the end of every day people are motivated by hope more than they could ever be motivated by despair. So why don't we concern ourselves with how we facilitate hope rather than how we facilitate conviction? Let us truly honor the souls that have captured our hearts and our attention rather than honoring the darkness that victimizes them. Let them be honored in how we speak of them and think of them rather than being embarrased by our words exposing their nakedness. Instead, let us be like the two brothers who backed in and covered their father. Let us be like our Father Who saw our ancestor's, Adam and Eve, embarassment at their own nakedness and made them clothes. </p>
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<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-42035796741992379122013-03-21T07:15:00.001-07:002013-03-21T07:17:52.640-07:00Defiant<p> <font size="5"><u>Defiant-</u> boldly resistant or challenging</font></p>
<p>Have you ever thought of God's love as defiant? </p>
<p>Do you picture a Man so bent on holding you that He boldly opposes all obstructions in His path? A Man so fixed on loving you that He challenges every rivalry that stands between you and He? </p>
<p>Obsessed? Perhaps, but He is the only one in this relationship that still remembers what it was like before sin came to be. He is the only one who still remembers what it looked and felt like to have pure untainted desire. He is jealous for it. He is jealous for us to return to it, to Him. And because we cannot get there ourselves He defiantly stands at our aid waging the war for us. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: left; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><strong>The Love of God by Frederick Martin Lehman</strong></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: left; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; ">The love of God is greater far</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: left; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; ">Than tongue or pen can ever tell.</span></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: left; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">It goes beyond the highest star</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: left; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> And reaches to the lowest hell.</font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: left; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">The guilty pair, bowed down with care,</span></font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: left; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> God gave His Son to win;</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: left; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">His erring child He reconciled</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: left; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> And pardoned from his sin.</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><em>O love of God, how rich and pure!</em></font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><em><em> How measureless and strong!</em></em></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><em>It shall forevermore endure</em></em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><em><em> The saints’ and angels’ song.</em></em></font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">When hoary time shall pass away,</span></font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall;</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">When men who here refuse to pray,</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> On rocks and hills and mountains call;</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">God’s love, so sure, shall still endure,</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> All measureless and strong;</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> The saints’ and angels’ song.</font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><br>
</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Could we with ink the ocean fill,</span></font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> And were the skies of parchment made;</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">Were every stalk on earth a quill,</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> And every man a scribe by trade;</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">To write the love of God above</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> Would drain the ocean dry;</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3">Nor could the scroll contain the whole,</font></p>
<p><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"><span style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span></font></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><font face="Times New Roman" size="3"> Though stretched from sky to sky.</font></p>
<p><span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 19px; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Arial, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', sans-serif; "><br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; "><br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; "></span></p>
<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-70241389154219290712013-03-07T08:30:00.001-08:002013-03-19T18:10:43.610-07:00a Little great<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8572648147/" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8381/8572648147_cb222310bb.jpg" id="blogsy-1363741840876.4102" class="aligncenter" width="622" height="311" alt=""></a></div>
<p> Hasn't it always been the awareness of little things that makes something great? </p>
<p>Seinfeld was famous for being the show about nothing. But it wasn't nothing was it? The show took something insignificant and overlooked and it confounded upon it until it became a part of your life. I mean can any of us look at soup the same again? </p>
<p>And comic legends are usually not the ones who are the most boisterous, but the ones who best got inside your head by taking the mundane everyday details of life and drawing your attention to it. I think of Bill Cosby every time I see chocolate cake thinking, "Daddy's great! He gives us chocolate cake!" Or Tim Allen every time I vacuum. Or Ellen Degeneres whenever I take the elevator. </p>
<p>JR Tolkien took a hobbit, the smallest and most unlikely of creatures, and made him the hero. </p>
<p>C.S. Lewis took children and made them kings and queens. </p>
<p>Ansel Adams looked at nature and deemed it worth the expense to make the land the subject and not the background.</p>
<p>Vincent Vangogh looked at a vase and flowers and made it a masterpiece. </p>
<p>And while others continue to try to imitate and reproduce genius such as these, our generation has its own little galleries calling our attention to insignificant, mundane, overlooked things and making us take notice. Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. Tumblr. All calling on the attention of others beckoning them take notice of what one found. And what have we found in return? That there is beauty, wisdom, and blessings to be found everywhere. </p>
<p>Sure there's a lot of flack to be said about our social media, but these are platforms and we the keepers- the curators, if you will. I have been most blessed by my friend's social galleries where they take an unabashed stance on what they see and boldly share it. </p>
<p>Remember, no man looks at life, love, the world, or faith in the exact way you do. It is an honor to look through the eyes of another and an even greater honor to have someone choose to look through yours. </p>
<p>So go on and take the picture of the coffee cup, the water drop, the road, the flower, and the bird. Go on and draw or paint the leaf, the tree, the ocean shore. Go on and write about love and fairy tales, redefine and restate the common revelations. Go on and find the little things and bless us with your unique and one-of-a-kind perception. And one day may you find that great was in the little. </p>
<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-89178194181492854012013-01-28T06:04:00.001-08:002013-01-28T06:04:31.864-08:00The Great Gardener<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8422934121/" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8043/8422934121_172bff7ff9.jpg" id="blogsy-1359381872296.5073" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="182" alt=""></a></div>
<p> Last week I planted some sweet onions starting from the bulbs. In one week I have seen incredible growth. It's very interesting how I, their gardener, can look out on them and see how far they've come since I planted them, but observers separated from the process don't see the growth nor feel the excitement like I do. Every time I look out on them I smile because I'm just so elated and tickled by their progress, something which, in return, affirms and encourages me as their gardener. </p>
<p>What incredible insight into our Gardener. When He looks on us He doesn't focus on what we have not yet fully become, but rejoices in the growth that is so very obvious to Him; growth that we are, all too often, oblivious of within ourselves. But God, the Perfect Gardener and our Creator, is so involved in our journey and so pleased at our growth. Size is really not of much consequence to Him. He knows the end result and knowing the end result does not deminish the joy to be had in the journey. I know that in the end I will have an onion, the size of which will be significantly more impressive than the small green shoots that exist now, but it doesn't matter; I am excited to see it becoming an onion. And our Creator is excited to see us becoming who we were meant to be, rejoicing over every "little" growth that makes us who we are. </p>
<p>If we truly understood how our Creator looked on us, how would that change how we live and love? Instead of beating ourselves up everyday over all that we are not, if we learned to delight in the journey and take joy in the growth; what affect would that have? Instead of waiting for what we will become, receiving the blessing of our Creator's pleasure in who we are and how far we have come at that moment in His gaze? </p>
<p>Did you know that <em>to gaze</em> means to look intently and steadily, especially in admiration, surprise or thought? Did you know that's how He looks at you? </p>
<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-79582855154173092852013-01-20T10:56:00.001-08:002013-01-20T10:56:34.369-08:00My Voice Audition Experience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8399566448/" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8464/8399566448_471e026848.jpg" id="blogsy-1358708192046.1362" class="aligncenter" width="633" height="316" alt=""></a></div>
<p>Unbeknownst to most, I signed up long ago to audition for The Voice and had since been preparing. My motivation: Why not? I wasn't really hoping to make it onto the show, I was just really curious to see how far I could go and what the whole experience would be like. So here's what it was like:</p>
<p>My audition was at 2pm. We left the house at 6am, got to Atlanta around 11:30 and I was in line by noon. I was really glad I got there early because I was only about 20 feet from the registration table and if I had been any further away, the wait might have killed me. Waiting for registration was the longest process, but it gave you a chance to meet a lot of interesting and talented people. While waiting in line (and even in the bathroom) people were singing, playing guitar, talking, eating; one girl even brought a pillow and was chillin in line. A couple of times one of the staff came round with a megaphone and would give the crowd songs to sing which not too many people joined in on until she requested we all stand and sing the national anthem and then everyone sang. It was an awesome, chilling sound to hear all these talented singers in perfect harmony. And at that the registration was over, we were grouped off into groups of ten, sat down and waited to be called back. When we were called back, we were led to another waiting area, then to another hallway with ten doors each opening up to another room with 10 chairs and a producer- This is where your audition would begin and end. We went in, she called our names at random and we said our name, where we're from and our song and then we sang a verse and a chorus and were done. At the end of everyone singing she politely informed that she needed more time to think about one person, but that she was going to pass on the rest of us and that was it. </p>
<p>Now as for what I enjoyed; I thoroughly enjoyed getting to meet so many talented people, the energy of being amongst such creativity was unlike any other. Everyone was so encouraging and supportive of one another, everyone wishing each other good luck and anytime someone came out with a red card (meaning they made it to the second audition) the crowd went wild with applause and congratulations. <strong>The coolest part, <u>by far</u>,</strong> was as myself and the other 9 were waiting outside the room we were going to audition in one girl turned around and asked if we believed in God and could we pray. So right there in front of the audition room we all circled up and thanked God for the gifts He had given us and the chance to be on a stage for Him. Such a cool experience.</p>
<p>Now obviously I didn't get chosen, or else that would have already been mentioned, but not making it is nothing to be ashamed of. There were 5 people I sang with that had <strong>phenomenal</strong> voices and even <em>they</em> got passed on. The thing is that you are singing in front of <u>ONE</u> producer and that <u>ONE</u> producer has a certain type they are waiting for and just because you don't fit that mold they are looking for that does not reflect on your talent; a truth which the producers themselves graciously affirmed. </p>
<p>Auditioning was a great experience and I'm so glad that I did it! It will be exciting to see if anyone that I got to meet made it to the blind auditions, and if so I'll be rooting for them. Auditioning also made me remember why I love music. I didn't really enjoy the added competition factor into the art I so love. I love music because it's an avenue for me to pour out through and in so doing, be filled. It's not about being the best, fitting the mold, or being popular or sought after; it's about loving the art and so blessing through it.</p>
<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-47558596840922342702013-01-17T09:33:00.001-08:002013-01-17T09:33:20.732-08:00This Present Gift<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8389178729/" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8517/8389178729_6c25eb619d_c.jpg" id="blogsy-1358444000084.0483" class="alignright" width="403" height="646" alt=""></a></div>
<p>I'm always confused, rather disturbed, by Christians who speak resentfully of the earth; saying things such as, "This world has nothing for me." To which my reply is, "Then why did He put you here, I wonder?"</p>
<p>We've grown up with teachings telling us to live for heaven, store up your treasures in heaven, you weren't made for this earth, don't focus on this life- focus on the life to come, etc.</p>
<p>The teachings of course are good-intended and can be traced back to the Bible, but the Bible is full of balance and part of the scale here, I feel, is missing. </p>
<p>The earth is far more than your in-between, your purgatory. I think it is even far more than a training ground. It is our world. And put the emphasis on <em>our. </em>It is our present and, as such, it is a gift. </p>
<p>Have you seen this place?! Have you seen the beauty that has been planted here?! The first thing we learn about when we open our Bible is about God as Creator. We see the care and the creativity He put into making this beautiful planet we so take for granted. God said, "It is good." and we say, "Not good enough." </p>
<p>Are we so arrogant as to resent, or even despise, the earth that our God created? And if it is a training ground then do you really think that your attitude toward it is not being taken note of? Oughtn't we to love the things He loves and hate the things He hates? Oughtn't we to care for the things He cares for and has thusly entrusted to us?</p>
<p>Why did He put you here? Was it simply to do and to wait? Or was it to <em>be</em>?</p>
<p>Just a thought.</p>
<p> </p>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-5551139667706918512013-01-05T08:54:00.001-08:002013-01-05T08:55:34.863-08:00Sacred Speakings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8349356949/" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8084/8349356949_730d268139.jpg" id="blogsy-1357404925244.0222" class="alignleft" alt="" width="180" height="180"></a></div>
In 1Samuel 19 Saul begins his trail of attempts at killing David, his enemy. At one point David flees to the prophet Samuel and hides with him until Saul gets word of David's whereabouts and he seeks him there. <br/><br/>Here's the scene: David and Samuel are at a place called Ramah with a company of prophets. Saul sends messengers to capture David. When they come close they see a company of prophets prophesying and the Spirit of God comes upon them and they too prophesied. Saul finds out and sends another group of messengers. Same thing happens. Saul sends a third group- same thing happens, they all prophesied. So what does Saul do? Well if you want something done right you do it yourself; right? Right. So he goes. And what happens? The Spirit of God comes upon him and he stripped off his clothes, laid naked all day and night, and prophesied. <br/><br/>God's presence so powerful that men sent, ultimately, for destruction are overcome by it and prophesy. God's presence so powerful that enemies prophesy. <br/><br/>Have you ever noticed how people like to divide and classify what is sacred and what is secular? And by so dividing they give God an allotment of what He may speak to them through. Because if God is only in the music deemed sacred, then there's no business listening to the music deemed secular...because He's not there...<em>so they might say. </em><br/><br/>What we have done by creating this man-made divide of sacred and secular is that we have deafened ourselves from hearing more, blinded ourselves from seeing more, and handicapped ourselves from experiencing more. <br/><br/>Everything is sacred. <br/><br/>And if we, God's people, carry His presence in us then oughtn't our life and daily interactions with the world take on the happenings of 1Samuel 19? Where all that approached prophesied? If we carry His presence in our comings and goings, that means that everything we approach has the ability to speak to us and to prophesy. The graffiti on the wall, the dying oak, the Muslim, the drunk on the corner, the rap on the radio, the toy isle in the store, a cold cup of coffee....<br/><br/>Do you believe His presence is powerful enough to speak through anything? Even the things that disgust you, anger you, and even hurt you? <br/><br/>There are millions of things out there prophesying, even the rocks and trees cry out. Will you listen? Will you approach? Or will you limit yourself to your segregation? You decide.<br/><br/>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-3389146320878147202012-11-30T06:24:00.001-08:002012-11-30T06:24:24.270-08:00Can't to Can In the last chapters of the book of Judges you read a gruesome story about a war between the tribe of Benjamin and the rest of Israel. (Check out Chapters 19 and 20 for that story). When the fighting was over, the tribe of Benjamin was left in really bad shape. Tens of thousands of Benjaminites were killed obviously leaving the population in dire need. <br/><br/>Now Israel had previously sworn that they would not give their daughters as wives to the tribe of Benjamin and here they are left with a predicament. Do they watch a tribe of Israel die out or do they help? Judges 21 tells of how they worked, fought, and saught out a way to provide wives to their brothers. <br/><br/>The rest of the tribes could have stopped at what they couldn't give and left it at that, but instead they worked to find a way to give. <br/><br/>So many times we stop at what we don't have and we end up not giving anything at all. <br/><br/>Israel had to get creative. They had to think outside the box, outside the limitations. If they really wanted to help, which they did, they would have to find a way. <em>Do we do that?</em> <em>Do we look until we find a way? Or do we hesitate at 'The Borders of Can't'? </em><br/><br/><strong>Watch this video and see how this guy embraced his "can't" and turned it into something beautiful.</strong><br/><br/><div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="500" height="305" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/anujFqvCJsk" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>
<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Don't stop at what you think you can't do, what you can't give, and look for what you can give. Don't settle for only supporting someone else's way giving, although good. Giving to someone else's means of loving their neighbor and brother will never fulfill you like <u>you</u> loving your neighbor and brother as only <u>you</u> can would. </span><br/><br/><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Look beyond. Get creative. And find a way to help if you really do indeed care. </span><br/><br/>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-52099137464612918572012-10-18T14:56:00.001-07:002012-10-18T14:56:01.760-07:00Gallery of Recent Work<div class="separator" style="text-align: left;clear: both; ">So I'm mostly posting these to be able to pin them to my Pinterest, but hey you can see them here too. I'm trying to just keep creating and keep trying to get better. And I'm all around better when I have a good creative outlet....so are you actually. </div>
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<br/><br/>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-64569645620817941722012-10-04T22:04:00.000-07:002012-10-14T17:20:22.327-07:00The Exchange<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8088380269/" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8053/8088380269_068133d0e2.jpg" id="blogsy-1350260418979.6006" class="alignleft" alt="" width="213" height="213"></a></div>
I look at our culture and how we have need for nothing. Everything you could ever think up to meet the most crucial needs to the most superficial needs, exists. We are kept alive, not because we can feed ourselves but, because we are being fed. We have little motivation to spend time learning about self-sustainability because it's unnecesarry in our present life and, we assume, in our next life. And since we are duped into being ever fed, we cease to grow beyond this keeping; we fail to mature.<br/><br/><br>
We have this unspoken idea of what the new earth will be like and within that idea lies an assessment of what we will be like; we will be perfect in a perfect world. Well what does that look like? <br/><br/>What if the new earth is a blank canvas left to our creating? If that's the case, have we been adequately preparing ourselves for life in the new earth?<br/><br/>In the forests of Belarus during WWII thousands of Russian Jews fled to the forests and lived there in hiding. It came to be that intellectuals became of less value than the tradesmen. Learned men who had looked down on the common men now found themselves fully dependent on those "lesser" skills for their survival. It was the upperclass, educated men and women who were found to be of less use in this new life.<br/><br/>Building a house or a shelter, hunting, fishing, collecting water, gathering, making our own tools, etc. What if all these skills will be necessary in the new earth? How useful will we be? <br/><br/>Or do we expect that, in our perfection, we will be equipped with the knowledge to perform any task we might face? <br/><br/>Is that God? Is that like Him? To just instantly endow us with everything? Or is that our "cultural theology" talking? The culture that performs for us. The culture that has spoiled us. Handicapped us. Stifled us. <br/><br/>So if this new earth will have need of such things, oughtn't I be preparing beyond, what we compartmentalize as, spiritual? In my preparations, striving to be a good steward of my time, on this earth for the next, will I not also find a better me here and now? In seeking to be better for what lies ahead am I not becoming better for the present? Learning to farm, to sew, to build- tapping into the Creator's intimacy with creation- rather than buy, buy, buy. <br/><br/>He told us in this next life the first shall be last and the last shall be first. Could this be the exchange; that we would find ourselves without the skills and the abilities to be co-creators in the new earth because we wasted this life for ease?<br/><br/>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-71291515198780862792012-09-19T12:57:00.001-07:002012-09-19T13:02:35.961-07:00DIY Sketch FrameI saw this in Target for a price I was unwilling to pay so I decided to make it for myself. Ending cost = $2 <br/><br/>So here's my How To:<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8004061376/" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8437/8004061376_6a9143a7d6.jpg" id="blogsy-1348085051594.3345" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
<strong><em><font class="Apple-style-span" size="5"> Supplies</font></em></strong>: frame (I found an old one laying around), sketch book (found one at Dollar General for $2), exact-o knife, elmers glue, super glue, and a ruler<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8004060505/" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8034/8004060505_28b0c330f1.jpg" id="blogsy-1348085051614.0273" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
<br/><br/><em><strong><font class="Apple-style-span" size="6"> 1.</font></strong></em> Rip off the cover of the sketch book being careful not to mess up the already existing glue binding. Then reinforce the binding with elmers glue using your finger or a brush to smooth it out. Leave it until it dries.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8004062702/" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8462/8004062702_1cf53516a1.jpg" id="blogsy-1348085051583.7283" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
<font class="Apple-style-span" size="6"><em><strong>2.</strong></em></font> Measure the size of the frame and cut your sketchbook to fit. You can use an exact-o knife or you can use a rotary cutter (either works).<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8004063190/" target="_blank" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8307/8004063190_1bac6d5bf2.jpg" id="blogsy-1348085051601.9836" class="" alt="" width="180" height="180"></a><br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8004062217/" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8179/8004062217_9a5fb51744.jpg" id="blogsy-1348085051586.0305" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
<em><strong><font class="Apple-style-span" size="6">3.</font></strong></em> Now that you have your sketch book sized down, you want to measure out the inner part of the frame and carefully cut that out. <br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8004081900/" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8172/8004081900_99eeb4c486.jpg" id="blogsy-1348085051637.7417" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="500" alt=""></a></div>
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<font class="Apple-style-span" size="6"><em><strong>4.</strong></em></font> Super glue the frame and press the sketchbook until it dries. <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/><strong><em><font class="Apple-style-span" size="6">5.</font></em></strong> Draw away!<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65037794@N03/8004064129/" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8031/8004064129_0010d50605.jpg" id="blogsy-1348085051596.243" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="500"></a></div>
<em><strong><font class="Apple-style-span" size="7" face="'Book Antiqua'">Viola!</font></strong></em><br/><br/> <br/><br/>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-33445960099808586752012-09-13T20:49:00.000-07:002012-09-13T20:51:47.429-07:00Lomo LessonI got this old camera at a thrift store for 99cents. It takes 110 film which I had to order off of ebay. And I am so protective of what pictures I take with this thing. I'm not even really sure how many frames I have to use. Once it got past the obvious, I started treating every frame like it was my last because I honestly thought it was. It's a rare film, not only because you can't buy it in stores anymore, but also because it expired in 1980 which naturally gives it effects that artists strive to recreate- therefore, EXTRA RARE. <br/><br/>I find myself carefully framing, taking my time with each shot, making sure that it's going to be frame-worthy. Truth be told, I have no idea what kind of pictures this camera is going to turn out; they may be total crap (hence why I found it for 99 cents) and the film could be so old that it doesn't develop at all. I have no idea what the end is going to look like.<br/><br/><p style="text-align: right;">But that doesn't stop me from wanting the best.</p>
It doesn't change the rarity of it all. It could totally bomb and I could end up with a roll of useless negatives OR they could be INCREDIBLE. It's a chance worth taking because <em>what if...</em><br/><br/>Bottom line, this life is rare. And if I played my life like I took my pictures then I could probably end up with some pretty INCREDIBLE moments. I don't know what the end is going to look like, but that shouldn't stop me from wanting the best. Because <em>what if...</em><br/><br/> <br/><br/>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187077736062109077.post-1200264265946922992012-09-13T08:17:00.001-07:002012-09-13T08:43:05.369-07:0021 Swings 21 Swings is an interactive public project recently set up in the streets of Montreal by Canadian design collective Daily Tous Les Jours. "Pre-recorded sounds from a xylophone, piano, and other instruments were programmed into color-coded swings that when in use play various notes, however when swung in unison with careful cooperation, more complex melodies and harmonies arise. An additional “secret mode” was programmed to only play when all 21 swings were in use." <font class="Apple-style-span" size="2"><em>(description taken from <a href="http://www.thisiscolossal.com/">thisiscolossal.com</a>)</em></font><br/><br/> Watch here:<br/><br/><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/40980676" width="640" height="385" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<br/><br/>What I LOVE about this project is how utterly heavenly it is. It combines sound, light, movement, color, community, simplicity, rest and more into one thing. The fact that it requires that you lay down your felt need to hurry in order to sit down and swing, which then entrances you into a new pace, almost a new realm, is a wonderful thing in and of itself. But, I find it to speak infinitely more. <br/><br/>We all have 5 senses and while much of our history has developed the art that entices these senses individually, now we find ourselves seeking to combine the arts to bring about something even more spectacular. It's no longer just about visual, or audio, or texture, taste and touch, it's about how we can combine them and join in. <br/><br/>We know that God is the Creator of these things. We recognize His artistry in creation's marvels; but have you ever <em>really </em>thought of God as an artist? Have you ever thought of God as a musician? He created sound and gave sounds to many things but did you also know that He wrote songs? (One such example is in Deuteronomy 31:19,21) And have you ever thought of God as chef, director, curator, designer, etc? <br/><br/>If God is the I AM, not a singular thing can define Him except the name which encompasses all of His qualities, and if God is not a human being which experiences things through their senses; what if God is Himself a sense to be experienced. What if God is as much to be found in smell as He is in feeling? What if God is to be found in taste as much as in hearing? ("<em>Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!..</em>" Psalm 34:8) Just a thought.<br/><br/>One of my favorite scenes in literature is the creation of Narnia in <em>The Magician's Nephew</em> by C.S. Lewis. Aslan sings Narnia into creation that brought about light, movement, color and unison. Another example of what I'm talking about can be found in <em>The Shack</em> by WM. Paul Young. In Chapter 15 the character's eyes are healed for an evening to see as the trinity sees, that the world around him interacts through color and light; that people exude colors from within themselves and relationship creates an array of light and colors. It paints a picture of a redeemed world where our senses reach their full potential and we interact on sensory levels we have not yet reached nor known. <br/><br/>I think anything that brings together different aspects of creation is a glory to behold. I think that whoever created these 21 swings was very in tune to the feelings and wantings of man; his need to rest, to be inspired, to tap into those child-like thrills, his need for simple refreshing, his need for community and others. One man on a swing makes one sound, but together they make another sound; should they seek different rhythms they would find different sounds altogether. <br/><br/>I see God's character, His artistry, written all over something like this. It challenges me as an artist and also as a human raising the bar in how I interact with this world God gave us. What do you see? What do you feel? What do you think?<br/><br/> <br/><br/>Stephanie Grayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15670751478156918484noreply@blogger.com0