My faith. And art.
It's been three weeks since my sister's husband died. I've been doing a lot of praying since then. And a ton of writing in my notebook. There is a patch from yesterday that I think relates to the idea of faith and art and why we create in the first place.
...I'm conflicted because one moment I seem to "get" that this life is temporary. I mean, I don't just acknowledge it but really fully feel it. This world and this life is only a very bad copy of what we're created to be and of the reality that God exists in.
I sense it so strongly sometimes that I almost feel like I could go out and kick the car in the driveway and it would crumble up like tissue paper. And if I blew into the air the clouds would part and the sky would ripple like a curtain - that's how strong a sense of falseness I have at times about this life. But then I stick out my foot and rest it on the coffee table. And realize how hard and solid it is. And the sense of hope I had from my (very) brief moment of understanding is gone.I realize we're stuck in this place no matter how much we "get" it. We're here until God decides otherwise. So sometimes I wonder if it's better to never have those moments of clarity? Maybe it's better to not know or understand what you're missing?As an artist I feel like sometimes I'm trying to communicate something I've actually never experienced. To create something with a beauty I've never actually seen but that I'm so sure of that it's painful and makes my chest hurt to think about it. I have no doubt that that beauty does exist, even though its full view is hidden from us.I feel this: "I caught a glimpse of Your splendor from the corner of my eye. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It was like a flash of lightning reflected off the sky and I know I'll never be the same. Show me Your glory. Send down Your presence. I want to see Your face..."*I think what some people consider "the muse" is really just an unconscious act of "getting it." But they suffer less emotionally if they don't realize it's a real thing they're inspired by. It's easier to call it the muse; it doesn't make you so homesick (homesick for a place you've never been!)Sam's death has made me homesick that way. Not like Lianne would feel, wanting to be with him again. Mine is due more to having to continue to admit I still believe God is good. Which means that Sam is in that place now - the place that is just out of my reach when I think I have it, or that surprises me when flashes of it show through just the right combination of color and transparency. Or a photograph. or a song that makes me almost cry - not because it's sad but because they lyrics or melody remind me of that place where I belong but have still never seen.