Where does poetry come from?

Poetry is formed in the human heart like diamonds are formed in the earth.

Diamonds are formed 90 miles deep in the earth in places where temperatures reach 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Poetry is formed in the depths of the heart, at times when passions blaze hot.
  
Diamonds are formed under great pressure with the weight of the earth pressing down on them. 

Poetry is often formed under the pressures of life and great mental duress.

Diamonds are expulsed from the depths of the earth by volcanic eruptions. 

Poetry spews forth when the pressure is too great, and can no longer be bottled-up but has been kept inside just long enough. Or the emotions well worth, like oozing lava,  and with them comes sometimes a poem or two. 

But  this is not the only way diamonds and poetry are made.

Diamonds are are also birthed when asteroids crash into the earth. Poetry is born when something touches your life with great impact.

Diamonds are formed when ocean meets earth.  Poetry is sometimes formed when a new thought takes hold in your mind and the realization is crystallized.

Diamonds and poems can appear clear and bright, like a star, distant and cold, yet burning white. The beauty of diamonds belie the extreme conditions under which they were formed while poetry captures them in a frozen moment. In a poem flashes facets of human passion, thought, and feeling crystallized into a drop of beauty. 

Diamond Formation Information

The Acrobats

 Two long, sturdy strips of cloth hung from a fixed point above the stage. A broad-shouldered man and a lithe woman climbed these pieces of cloth with creative tricks and soon they were both high in the air while the polished wood floor of the stage was dangerously far below. Already, we were impressed, they did a few tricks and arranged themselves, and then…

They swung gracefully out over our heads, the long strands of cloth trailing. They flew, his larger frame behind hers, she leaning against him. They walked in the invisible air, side by side, stepping lightly and in synchronization, delicately pointing their toes. He took her in his arms, crossed her quickly over his body and in various dramatic skater’s poses, they continued to fly around and around above our heads. He let her go and caught her with his feet as our hearts jumped into our mouths.

I was struck with the thought, “I want to get married.”

To me, it was a beautiful picture of marriage, one that I wanted to imitate. 

It was beautiful, it was romantic. Yet, it was so dangerous. If he dropped her, if she fell…the results were unthinkable. 

If they fell, they would likely be killed, and if not, then grievously injured. Yet not only they were in danger, but those watching. The audience too could be injured: physically if they fell onto the audience, emotionally if they fell on the stage. Just like a failed marriage, not only would it hurt the couple, but all those near too. And think of the emotional guilt he would feel for having dropped his partner.

To fly like this required strength and trust. Both must possess these qualities, but the man especially the strength as he bore her weight and his own, and she the trust as he at times lifted or caught her as they swung through the air, almost touching the ceiling. 

In Ephesians 5:22-27, we learn, “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless,” (Ephesians 5:22-27). The wife is to submit to her husband. If I’m to submit to someone, I want a man I can trust with my life, just as this woman trusted him to catch her. The husband is to help his wife heavenward, just as the male acrobat lifted her, and helped her stay high on the cloths. 

~August 2014. Beijing, China.

Bills are Blessings

Lately I've realized that I have had an abundance of blessings poured into my lap.  I finally have a full-time office job with fun co-workers who "get" my weird sense of humor. I bought my own car. I started Krav Maga where I am learning to fight and it's great to have a safe place to channel one's anger. The first day I went, the instructor told us to get angry and hit the pads as hard as we could. I was hooked and signed up for the membership after the class. Back in the fall of last year, I purchased a smartphone. Now, with monthly payments needing to made for all these blessings, (which I would not have if I was not blessed to have a job to be able to afford these things), I realized that I love bills. Wow! All these bills! I'm so excited about having bills, it's like my proof of adulthood. "Look at me, I'm being a grown-up!"

Yes, I am thankful for these bills. They are a blessing, I might not always be able to have these things, but while I do, I am so thankful to God for providing them, and even if they are taken away I know He will provide for me and I am thankful for that as well.

Through my storm He reached out to me

I was reading some of my journal entries from this past year. It's interesting to look back and remember where I was and how I've grown.

I found an entry from a little while ago that I want to share. A few months ago I was feeling restless, unsettled, useless. With a need to do SOMETHING to fight it and fight my fears of growing into a boring old adult, I ran out into the warm, dark, night air and swung myself up into the maple. I enjoyed the feeling of pain as the sawn-off branch jabbed me hard in the torso and the rough bark scraped my wrists. I climbed higher into the tree and then stood still, leaning against the slender forked branches. I looked straight ahead and I saw a full white moon through a square frame of leaves and a lattice of trees in the distance. This little square was the perfect size for the snowy moon and it's white aura. The lovely shape of the leaves, black against the deep dark royal blue of night. Behind the leafy frame of pointed maple leaves, flat against the night sky like a delicate Chinese papercut rose the crisscrossing arches of tall trees beyond in other yards and behind the moon according to my depth perception. I took in this little picture and silently was thankful to God that in the middle of my restless, caged-up feelings, He gave me this picture. It was as if it was saying to me,"I'm here. I made this picture for you. Just you. It's tiny and personal. Just the way I often remind you I am here."

You see, for a detail-oriented person, the details mean so much.

The Artwork of The Tale of Princess Kaguya

The film seems to be set in the Heian period of Japan. A quick glance at the emaki (scrolls with artwork on them) show the fashion and interior design of the period which is clearly transcribed in the film. The animators did not, however, put the main action off in the corner and split the scene diagonally with a birds-eye view over walls, as typical of of these illustrations.
 The governess in particular looked like she stepped right out of The Tale of Genji Scrolls, from her clothing, face shape, long black hair, and the shape of her skull when her head is bent.

The Tale of Princess Kaguya

The Tale of Genji

In one scene, Princess painted some animals that are reminiscent of the whimsical black and white animals of Choju Jinbutu Giga scrolls.

Then we've got this lovely brush work which is also reminiscent of traditional styles:

The Tale of Princess Kaguya

The end of the film depicted a raigo of Amida Buddha and in particular it reminded me of one picture called Raigo of Amida and Twenty-Five Attendants. This picture depicts the cloud at an angle coming down to a house, just like some shots in the movie. Little beings fly on ahead, like the little "fairies" in the film, although the ones in the picture aren't wearing pink skirts. A raigo is a descent of Amida Buddha to receive people after they die.

The Raigo of Amida and Twenty-Five Attendants

Click here to view close-ups of the raigo painting: Kyoto National Museum: Raigo of Amida

This film released by Studio Ghibli in 2013 is a melancholy film and not a fun family film. The film does contain the nudity of small children and breasts of nursing mothers.

Facts are from the wikipedia, my memory from The Arts of Japan class I took at university, and also History of Japanese Art, by Penelope Mason.

The End...But Not

~This post is written to my fellow Christians. ~

It's interesting how there are signs of God and elements of Truth woven through culture and time, it's in Pagan lore, and it shows up in books by modern authors. There are elements of truth amongst the lies and confusion so prevalent in society.

I read an account of Ragnarok (The Twilight of the Gods), which is the tale of the end of the world in Norse mythology. Much of it was very similar to what has been told in The Bible and outlined in  Heaven, by Timothy Keller. Ragnorak contains a fight between the gods where the  world is destroyed. In the end though, the children of the gods survive and begin a new life in a beautiful fresh land. Ragnarok rightly states that the world will be destroyed and a new world created. However, instead of the children of the gods, the children of God will live there. (The children of God are those who believe in the saving power of Jesus' blood and adopted by God. "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God! For that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him." I John 3:1)

There are some books that I wouldn't recommend, but yet point towards the existence of God and of sin by portraying what can happen when one lives without God, which is the reality of life for many, many people. Waterland asks over and over: "Why?" It shows clearly the results of sin and the barriers it creates and how actions build upon each other so that you reap what you sow. The main character asks "Why?" but he knew why. He knew the pain he, his wife, and his father (and others) faced was the result of the wrong he (and they) had done, and this truth is slowly untangled throughout the story.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is another. I only read the first few chapters but I was just now struck with an allegory in this book --which I did not expect as this book makes light of God and contains crass imagery and innuendos (which are why I didn't finish it). In the story, Planet Earth was destroyed and Arthur Dent is presumably the only human to escape. He didn't have any luggage, he didn't get to take anything with him. The author wrote that the knowledge of Earth was just something that existed in his memory. For example  there was no place he could go to pull out a record and share the music of the Beattles with anyone. It was all gone. Like death and rebirth. None of your possessions come with you. But why was he the only human to survive the destruction of Earth? It wasn't by anything he did. His friend saved him. His friend was from another world who brought him along, Arthur Dent didn't do a thing, he just woke up inside an Alien spacecraft after the Earth was destroyed.

I believe the Earth will be destoyed. When people die, they take nothing with them, and the only thing that can save is Jesus. Fully God and fully man, he came from Heaven to Earth to save us from ourselves and from our sin, and our future home is in Heaven which will contain a new Earth, but this time there will be no sin and pain and suffering. Jesus is the friend who saves us.

Time in the Faery Realm and Ours

"Time runs differently in the mound." -The Moorchild, by Eloise McGraw

In an ancient Irish tale in the Fenian Cycle, Oisin traveled across the sea to Tir Na nOg (The Land of Eternal Youth). He lived there for a time then asked to go home to Ireland to see his father. His lover was loathe to let him go, yet she let him go bidding him stay on the horse. Once back in Ireland, he found that his father, Fin Mac Cool, and the Feanna were gone and it was years later. Then, in aiding some men move a boulder he fell off the horse onto the ground and was instantly transformed into an old man.

In The Moorchild, by Eloise McGraw, published in 1998, a similar circumstance is reported, or more like, she wisely drew upon the lore of yore. A fisherman named Fergus entered the Mound (the home of the Folk, as they are called in the book, basically mischievous little people in keeping with fairytales found in  The Book of Fairies and Elves, by Olcott). When Fergil was later sent forth from the mound he transformed into an old man and found that years had elapsed, "five-and-fifty years older" (The Moorchild).