For I am about to do something new.
    See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
    I will create rivers in the dry wasteland. (Isaiah 43:19 NLT)

Perspective happens over time. Perspective happens in a moment. Defined, perspective has to do with seeing clearly. Literally it means to look through.

Welcome to 29 Days of Seeing NEW: A Perspective Journey. Grab your journal or a blank notebook or some loose leaf paper or whatever you’d be most likely to write on; an old envelope or even a paper plate. Use a pen, a pencil, a crayon, a marker or mud or paint words with a paint brush. Whatever you do, please give yourself the permission and luxury to respond to the prompt at the end of this post. It will change your perspective, one day at a time. I promise! (This only works, if you actually DO it! And it doesn’t matter how long you write or how many words or if you use complete sentences or just one word or a list of words. Just give it a chance, and SEE what happens.) It’s just a suggestion, but I think you’ll like it, once you TRY it.

My desire over the next 29 days is to provide a variety of lenses to look at our lives, our practices and to encourage new ways of seeing that we might not have considered before.

I find one of the simplest ways to shift my perspective is to write. To write rapidly for 2, 3 or 5 minutes, using a timer as my motivator. I like to finish open ended phrases that create “rivers in the dry wasteland,” gently filling the blank page with words that I might not otherwise have considered. Not always, but often after writing like this, with no particular outcome or pressure, I have an “aha” moment, where something I needed to know or understand presents itself through the dialogue with pen and paper.

Another practice that helps me process/dream/brainstorm about life is collage making with magazine images, bits and pieces of everyday fodder found in my purse or the mail. Plus some color slapped on the page with craft acrylics or swished on with kids’ watercolor paints or smudged on with Caran D’Arche Neocolor II watersoluble crayons .

Sometimes after gluing stuff down, I see a theme or some words come to mind and I add them to the collage. And it’s just plain ol’ fun! To tear pages out of magazines, to cut out images, to glue them to the page with precision or random abandon, whatever way you like to interact with the mediums. (For gluing, I recommend the basic Elmer’s purple glue stick, then you can “see” that you’ve covered the back of the item you are gluing down with the purple, which dries clear.)

Over the next 29 days, I plan to share a quote, a prompt and some related links or techniques to add color or image to your journal/sketchbook/notebook.

Lisa Sonora is an artist, who inspires and encourages the freedom to use journals (containers for your thoughts, ideas, etc) and art to help process life. If you wonder what all the buzz is about art journals or visual journals, may I recommend her perspective as she explains her process and practice in a way that resonates with my vision, as I pursue art adventures and soul experiences through souldare. (Click here to read why Lisa maintains a creative practice.)

Prompt for TODAY: I want a new perspective of . . .

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
    you formed me in my mother’s womb.
I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
    Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
    I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
    you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
    how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
    all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
    before I’d even lived one day. (Psalm 139:13-16 The Message)

I have seen this image reproduced on journal covers, and cited as a beautiful illustration of God’s creation and connection with humans. But I’ve never seen it in context, until yesterday. Not at the Sistine Chapel, but in a local sanctuary on a big screen. To see Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam in a greater context, opened up a whole new perspective on this famous image.

The pastor used this image to illustrate God’s yearning for each one of us. He noticed that every muscle in the portrayal of God seems to strain toward Adam, while Adam appears to be at ease or maybe even indifferent. His observations were notable, but my initial response was the awe of a new discovery. My knowledge of the famous painting was lacking context. That there was more to the painting than the two fingers almost touching in mid-space expanded my knowledge. I couldn’t believe that I had missed out on the broader perspective all these years.

I am having a hard time putting my feelings into words; I’m just weaving phrases together to make sense of this new awareness. The whole experience seems like an awakening of sorts.

All those characters encompassing God’s sphere mesmerized me. I wondered who they were and why Michelangelo painted them as part of God’s image.

Context impacts perspective. As a writer and artist, I understand that I can only share a limited glimpse of who I am with others through my writing and art. Yet, I still share because I want others to know me. And when we share a part of ourselves, somehow we relate.

For instance, I was reading a blog today from writer/artist and friend, Amanda Stanley. She was writing about Sad Days. Little did she know that I was having a similar experience across town on the very same day. I am just getting to know Amanda and her family, through common experiences of sharing art and faith, and our love for writing books and blogs, and showing up and pushing through to make our contribution to the world, even when we are afraid or sad or tired or however we may be feeling.

And while we have this common bond, I know that I might be taking some of our experience out of context, because there is so much more to know, so much more we haven’t even had the opportunity to share with each other.

I invite you to hop over to her blog and read more of her story. I like this quote that she shared recently, and I believe reading her blog will impact your life in a similar way.

 

Context is necessary for our relationship with God, too. There’s so much we don’t know, can’t know or may never know this side of the canvas.

But I find comfort in the knowledge that God does know, knows so much more and knows us outside of time, even. It’s all quite mind blowing and one blog post will never put it into context. Yet, I hope this small glimpse will broaden our mutual perspectives.

Speaking of perspective, as there’s no clever way to lead into my next thought, let me tell you how I’m feeling about February. February is the shortest month of the year, but to me it’s the longest month of winter, so to keep myself from losing perspective, I am dusting off some journal prompts and inspirational quotes I gathered last year to offer:

29 Days of Seeing NEW: A Perspective Journey

Come back tomorrow to learn more. If you haven’t subscribed to soulPantry, I invite you to do so, as it would be a convenient way to gather the prompts in your inbox. Like I said more details tomorrow, but if you’re looking for a way to improve your perspective about winter, life or even your own creative pursuits, I believe this series will have something for YOU!

Prompt for Today: To me a new journey means . . .

 

 

My soul yearns, even faints,
    for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh cry out
    for the living God. (Psalm 84:2 NIV)

One of my favorite places to explore is the dictionary. The old-fashioned, flip through the pages dictionary provides side trips into unexpected word worlds. The internet dictionary aids me in quick searches and ready access to word origins.

This week I was pondering the word: explore. Literally in the dictionary and in real life.  I tend to equate explore with activity, which includes searching and learning about something new. And it does mean that. But as I dug into the definition, I began to ask myself:

“Why does this word intrigue me?”

I wrote out several of its meanings in my journal, focusing on the infinitive verbs used to describe it. To look, to talk or think about, to learn by trying. These three nuances relate to the process I experience as an explorer.

When I explore a topic, I look at it. I observe. Then I think about it or maybe talk about it with someone else. I brainstorm the topic and begin to arrive at conclusions. Once, I finish the  first two steps, I choose to engage with the topic, learn about it by experience.

Very practical insights, yet I wanted to check out its root meaning. From the Latin roots the word means “to cry out.” Whoa! I hadn’t expected that. But it makes sense. When I’m exploring, I am looking for an answer. I like answers. I want answers.

As I thought about the origins of explore, the phrase “to cry out” made me think of prayer and the psalms. When I’m exploring something new or maybe even something familiar, like say my faith, I am crying out for understanding. I want answers. And the funny thing is that my answer comes in person.

God hears the cry of my heart. I ask myself what does this all mean, all the time. And then, He answers is various ways. I read a devotion, and a phrase speaks to me:

The fact that I AM WITH YOU makes every moment of life meaningful.

(Jesus Calling, Sarah Young)

 

He answers me over a cup of coffee . . .

in the pages of my journal . . .

He prompts me to look at the sky, while I am resting in my car between appointments.

To notice the reflection of my canvas in the family room window . . .

I see His smile as I witness others create and find joy with paint . . .

 

And at the end of the week, I see Jesus in the midst of family and friends making pizzas and memories . . .

Being an explorer sharpens my perspective. I see things NEW. Even old, familiar things like my faith, my family, my friends and my surroundings.

Here’s a prompt to consider: How do you see Jesus showing up, as you explore this life, in light of His words and His creation?

Are your ears awake? Listen. Listen to the Wind Words, the Spirit blowing through the churches. I’ll give the sacred manna to every conqueror; I’ll also give a clear, smooth stone inscribed with your new name, your secret new name. (Revelation 2:17 The Message)

I am enjoying the luxury of a morning at home. As I ponder thoughts in my journal, and define words and dialogue with the Creator, a new name for the blog emerges.

Why now? I can’t really answer that completely, but I have known for awhile that I’d like to somehow connect Nourishment for the Soul blog with souldare, and little by little the lines between them are blurring.

souldare encompasses art adventures and experiences that I offer here in the St. Louis area, and I mostly post about my art experiments over there.

This place has always been a “place to feed on words,” but also a place to build community with other word lovers, journal keepers and kindred spirits who love all things created. The content will probably look similar, but I do want to share more words, more ideas and more journal prompts. So the name, “soulPantry” fits this intention.

A pantry is a small room or closet where food is stored, as provisions for the table. I would like to set a table of rich and savory words (main post) with a side of inspiration (images and links) and a few leftovers (journal prompts, aka questions to ponder) to box up and take “home” to enjoy later.

I hope you will share the “pantry” with friends. I would love to bring some of your words here as appetizers, desserts or main dishes on a regular basis, if you’d like to guest post. (Any writer or artist who wants to share here is welcome, no need to have a blog, you can share my “table.” Email me at kelrohlf@souldare.com, if this invitation interests you.)

Let me know what you think of the new name in the comment box.

Here’s a prompt to think about until the next post.

Have you ever wondered what your new name will be? How will you understand it? Why does God even intend to give us new names?

 

Hear my cry, O God;
    listen to my prayer. (Psalm 61:1 NIV)

Please welcome author and kindred spirit, Lynn D. Morrissey! You are in for a treat today. As always, with an authentic and apt turn of phrase, Lynn brings a lyrical reflection on the depths of her soul. Her words resonate with the reader (you and me) in ways inexplicable, yet in perfect harmony with the Spirit of God at work in each of us. Thank you, Lynn for sharing your words and heart felt cry to our heavenly Father.

Extravagant Vagabond

by Lynn D. Morrissey

I am scattered to the wind. Like a prodigal dandelion puff, seeds of my life are blown hither and yon—disheveled, disarrayed, disorganized—a plethora of piles … of files, books, magazines, and paper scraps scrawled with note fragments of things to do, places to go, ideas to pursue, dreams to realize—but no thought fully formed, no brainstorm finally completed.

And I, emotionally and spiritually? What’s my state?

Stoic. Frozen.

My laissez-faire laxity makes no sense if my outer world is a reflection of my inner one. (At least that’s the theory: Your surroundings reflect the state of your soul).

One would think I’d be upset. My outer world is fraying at the seams of seemliness, and my inner spirit just doesn’t care.

What’s with that?

Shouldn’t our inner and outer worlds harmonize if we are to be persons of wholeness and integrity?

I long for that.

I’ve always struggled with disorganization and distraction. The irony is that most people are surprised by that true confession. They think I’m just being humble, self-deprecating. They think I was born hyper-organized and super-focused.

I’m not sure why. I’ve never pretended to be. I hate hypocrisy. I tell them the truth—that I’m a mess, but they don’t believe me.

Perhaps people assume my perfectionism (to which I’ll readily admit in areas like writing) translates into domestic fastidiousness. Not! Not one iota, in fact.

I’m the wreck of the housekeeping Hesperus. No, my house is not a zoo. You could walk in and generally find it more or less passable (unless you’re Martha Stewart). But underneath my roll-top at various times, or in closets and file drawers and the music cabinet, and always on my kitchen table, disorder lurks. I straighten stuff, and then it undoes my best efforts. My books, papers, and music have a heyday proliferating, I tell you (especially when I’m not looking). They’re pesky like that.

Unfinished projects hide out too—like boxes of photos needing album homes, an address-book with names crossed out and scribbled over from nearly twenty-five years ago—stuff like that. It used to drive me nuts, but now I’m oblivious.

And my use of time has become a wayward thing . . . I’m a vacillating vagabond, wandering from purposeful writing pillar to frittering-Facebook post—distracted to the n-th degree—rudderless.

I could try to analyze this (and have). I can blame mentalpause, a proclivity towards ADD (undiagnosed), perfectionism and procrastination, the gift of creativity with its deliciously divergent tangents, fear over asking God to resurrect dreams that didn’t pan out the first time, and that feelingless “hour of lead” I experienced after my beloved father’s death, which has morphed itself into leaden years.

I’ll confess it here: I don’t know what the problem is—problems are.

But I do know Who knows.

And He isn’t telling.

I don’t even know that knowing the cause is immediately important. I simply need rescue. What’s critical is that I plead with the Savior to save me from myself—to submit to His intervention, to ask that He live His life through me to enable me go forth in His Spirit’s power.

After years of walking with Christ, I’ve lately become aware that often I’m walking alone. No, not alone as in abandoned, but alone as in going it alone moment by moment. I think, unwittingly, I’ve been living this Christian life all wrong. Yes, I read my Bible. Yes, I worship. Yes, I pray. But have I compartmentalized (fragmented) my relationship with Jesus into aforementioned spiritual “boxes.” If He is the vine, and I am a branch, why am I not consciously abiding in Him? More often than not, as I look back, I think I’ve been living in my own strength without even realizing it—operating in my flesh as it were. It’s not been purposeful, but it’s a surefire recipe for fragmentation; I’m crumbling under my own solitary wayward and wandering weight. I have not been living the “exchanged” life.

So rather than ramble on in my journal following these endless rabbit trails to search for possible causes of chaos, I make an impassioned, poetic plea to God. I pen an alpha (acrostic) poem, because I know it is a small container to hold my big cry. Its laser-like precision will hone in on what I long to say, but don’t know how. At this time, journaling, my go-to prayer-mode to converse with God, will be too open-ended.

Yes, yes … this poem is exactly what I want to pray, what I need to pray. Lord, I know you will not let this cry go unheard or unheeded. You are strengthening me, saving me, giving me your power, your control to live my life in You, through You, to You, for You. I need You right now, and You are right here.

I realize that You have always been …

Extricate me, Lord, from this vagabond life of
X-travagant dissipation.
Tame my time, and make me holily temperate.
Restrain my sin-filled, wandering waywardness. Make me
Attentive. I am
Vacillating in every direction, as scattered as
Ash on a windy day. Oh, God!
Gather me up; gather my thoughts and deeds and desires into Your
All-encompassing Person, purpose, and passion. Make me
Negligent of all that seeks to distract or allure.
Tether me to You. Give me Your
Vision for my life—Your singly focused eye.
Attune my ears to the perfect pitch of Your voice.
Galvanize my will to Yours.
Attract me to Your Word, your world, your way, so I’m no longer
Blown like a prodigal puff of dandelion seeds, scattered
Out in every conceivable direction. Draw me to sit lengthily at your feet. I
Need to know You in submission. I need You now, more than ever, to stop my
Downward spiral of destruction. Seize me! Rescue me, Lord!

 

---

 

 

Lynn D. Morrissey is a Certified Journal Facilitator (CJF), founder of  Sacred Journaling, a ministry for reflective journal-writing, author of Love Letters to God: Deeper Intimacy through Written Prayer and other books, contributor to numerous bestsellers, an AWSA and CLASS speaker, and professional soloist. She and her beloved husband, Michael, have been married since 1975 and have a college-age daughter, Sheridan. They live in St. Louis, Missouri.

Poem and other text by Lynn D. Morrisey (Copyright 2016. All Rights Reserved.)