Something I wrote for Interpersonal Communication, on nonverbal communication, 28 September 2011:

My artifacts tend to be those for nostalgic purposes, and those that help me be excited for my future. I have a little rectangular bowl that my mother used when she gave us her homemade Christmas Chex Mix. I keep office supplies in the bowl now, sitting on my desk like it has every right to belong there. It reminds me of my mother’s warm love on an icy December afternoon. Another nostalgic piece is the wooden toolbox I built on my grandparents’ porch when I was about 11. Now it is responsible for keeping lotion and body spray in one place. I particularly admire it because it is an artifact that I made, and craftsmanship is admired in my family. Other artifacts that are nostalgic come from other people: a ceramic sheep from my seven-year-old sister, a shard from a Tiffany lamp that my high school teacher and mentor let me have after a student broke the shade, and a hand-carved bird from another high school teacher.

            The artifacts that keep me going through life are usually more of the hand-written sort. I have posters, handouts, landscape pictures, magazine clippings, and self-written notes all over my part of the room and around my desk area. They inspire me to keep going with my college education and with my relationship with Christ—the two most important things in my life right now. On my desk, right by laptop monitor, “Carpe Diem”, and a quote from one of my favorite bands, August Burns Red, reads, “I’ve thrown away all my outside distractions. I’m diving headfirst to chase a dream that I won’t let go.” Then I listed a few of the things that constantly distract me from doing my homework. By my closet and mirror, I keep a post-it that reads, “When you look in the mirror, do you see yourself, or Jesus?” A fishing tackle box holds my make-up (which proves that perhaps I am a little eclectic and get creative on a budget), and inside, I keep an index card with the words of Peter: “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1Peter 3:3-4).  These kinds of things are everywhere.

I also love landscapes—anything to help me remember the world outside of Berea. Van Gogh paintings of the sea and an afternoon picnic come from an old calendar. I keep a night skyline of New York on the wall, and a vintage photo of Times Square framed above my desk. I love flowers, and have many pseudo-botanical artifacts brightening my room in vases.

To be outright in answering the questions, I feel at home with my artifacts, because they remind me of the people I love—the very people that have pushed me to succeed since they met me. I find my identity in my vintage, eclectic style, and in keeping the word of the Lord around my home and even posted on my door for all to see (Sharpie scrawled on a piece of cardboard claiming that, “JESUS WAS HOMELESS”).  If my things disappeared, I would probably mourn for the nostalgic pieces, but only for a while. I am actually trying to wrap my head around Jesus’ words in Mark 10: 21: “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” It’s a really radical idea that I couldn’t say that most Christians follow, but I am learning to let go of the American Dream of house, marriage, kids, job, etc. I iterate all of this to say that perhaps one day, the lack of many artifacts will be my identity, and nonverbally communicate that I’m serious about my identity in Christ. 

This is something I wrote in my journal 7 September 2011:

If we come to the end of ourselves to live for Christ, we have to jump. There is no bridge from the end of our materialism and coarse language and selfishness to the life Christ offers us, desires us to have to give Him glory. Soli Deo gloria... written forever on my shoulder, but do I really mean that in my life? I can imagine myself as a rich woman, realizing I must see myself a beggar before I can jump off this great cliff. In this depiction, others are removing their materialistic items and jumping... but where to? Just a simple life that relies on Christ every step of the way, as George Mueller put it as the reason he began his orphanage ministry.

My Earliest Memory

My earliest memory was when I was two and we lived in an apartment in Memphis, Tennessee, and I cried—sobbed—‘til I threw up, kneeling right on the threshold of my closed bedroom door, because I did not WANT to go to bed, and it was the last time I literally sobbed until April 2010, sixteen years later.

This May Be Tough to Read...Thoughts on the Death of the Masses

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/16/science/16terror.html?_r=1&hp

Reading this article, despite its attempt at not raising alarm, does cause me to tremble a bit with concern. With so many countries these days building up their store of nuclear weapons, it's not a matter of "if," but of "when" there will be a nuclear fallout— the "apocalypse" everyone is writing movies and video games about these days.

Midway through this article, I began to wonder if I, Jessica Powell, could die in an attack on the masses. Perhaps my body would never be recovered, or the rubble from a destroyed building would bury and tear it beyond recognition. I'm sitting here in a sleepy town, earning my education in a school that recognizes individuality because it can. Yet one day, perhaps I'll be taking the public transit, or crossing the street among tens of people (as they do in New York)... Suddenly, people are screaming and fleeing...the airplanes flying overhead... no, the scene is too graphic for me to even write. Were I to arrive at this event, I would not be an individual then. I'd be a number among thousands, millions, even.

In the 9/11 attacks, each of those people was an individual to someone, perhaps many people. But they sat at their desks and worked, living a normal life, keeping the business side of America running. They pushed paperwork and sent emails all day, drinking coffee and wearing business suits colored on the gray scale. They never dreamed they'd die from an inferno, or by plunging to their death from the 110 story tower they worked in.

Goodness, that is enough. I'm glad God has control of everything, but it is crazy to think that disaster upon America could hit at any moment. There is disaster all over the world all the time, even in the silent holocaust that is sweeping away the lives of unborn children.Yet something so pronounced as an attack to a country can send one reeling into thoughts too terrible for such an early moment of the day, or any moment for that matter.

16 December 2010

Kinda Lost on General People in General

Ok, so I could talk about where I am, like some of the best bloggers do. At least, that's what I think the elite do. I could tell you how I'm in the basement of my science building, locked out of my classroom because I'm here thirty minutes early. I could tell you that I'm eating a Healthy Choice soup from a cup, and it tastes gourmet. Yep, mass-produced food can taste gourmet, if it's not been made by a cafeteria employee. It just tastes like it was made with a bit more... concern? Anyway, stylistic blogging ritual aside, lemme tell you what I'm really thinking:

Today I was walking on campus, thinking of a certain friend from high school, my best guy friend. He was a caring person, and we used to cut up with each other all the time in our AP Biology class. I began to think of the good times we had, the nicknames we had created, and just how sweet he was to me when life gave me lemons.

I then compared him to some of the friends I've met here in my freshman year of college. I have several sweet, caring friends here as well. It occurred to me that, sadly, all people are the same. Not that I've been jaded by anyone. I guess... just, after meeting so many people from all around the country, and around the world in this unique school of mine, I've come to realize that all people can be fit into a generalized group. You have your traditional perfectionist, your sweetheart that everyone loves, your social butterfly, your cool, rebel-type, the brainy kid, the awkward kid... the list goes on and on. It was a saddening thought.

And, as the typical young woman does, my thoughts turned to marriage. When one enters into married life, they are supposed to be together forever. That's two people, that in a certain walk of life, come together and make a commitment to stay together for all the rest of their walks of life. That one person will be with you through everything—through loss of friends, through a move, through the death of a loved one...

But if people are generally the same, how do you find "the one"? How do I know whether I want to spend the rest of my life with a brainy kid, or a music geek, or an athlete? I admit, people are complex, and have many combos of the basic examples I have listed, but a friend here in one state can be so much like a friend there in my home state, or another country! God aligns two people to commit in that certain walk of life, but which walk of life? How do I know when I've met "the one"? What if I make the committment to a person, and "the one" walks by me, and I'm unable to do anything?

I guess this... questioning... that I am doing seems to be a lack of faith. BUT—I know that God has someone set up for me down the road, and that he will be the best friend I've ever met, and we'll have so many similarities and he'll complement me and such. I know this.

After seeing more of the world, after spending 4 months with not one familiar face, I've learned to... hold my own, I guess? Because all people translate out to be the same. And in that, there is familiarity. I can connect with my sweet, compassionate friend here, because I've learned how to react to my friend there. I miss him, but then again, I can see these qualities in someone at school.

Maybe it's not so bad that we're all the same.

By now, I've been let into class, and my soup is cold, so let me end with this: I've got a heck of a lot to sort out in this new chapter—even if much of life has the same old flavor. But I guess every young adult has to figure that out.

On Honesty

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

What God showed me today, on honesty…

I’ve been reading so many old papers today, cleaning up some old school stuff. I read a lot of Ruiz’s works. His are the kind of words that, as one’s life changes and one grows older, the words affect your heart differently. Anyway, he was talking in many of his journals from my freshman year (’06-‘07) about the correlation between honesty and vulnerability. In his journal entitled, “On Art and Honesty,” he speaks about how he was afraid to write and sing his songs because they could never be original.  As he went on, he finally had the thought (or perhaps the whisper of the Holy Spirit) to simply, merely, be honest: “You don’t have to be original, especially if it’s impossible. But you do have to be honest. Honesty— vulnerability, openness, and realness— make for the most relatable art, especially when it comes to music.” He had to make himself completely vulnerable to tell the class that, but I’m so glad he did.

I found a part of me when I took this to heart today.

I tend to see things as black or white— either it’s good, or it’s bad. I’ve been warned that it’s easy to become prideful when one has this kind of conviction. And it’s so true— I’ve had to repent before for being proud of this mindset, and how my relationship with God may be stronger than others…it’s a surprising and humbling place to be, when you realize that you’ve been in such a twisted place in your walk with Christ.  Truly, I was no “greater” if I  thinking in this manner, though our relationship with Him is all a little different. But this honesty— this vulnerability has really struck an attractive chord with me. I hate lies, and the topic of cheating causes me to seethe with anger. But with honesty comes the fact that your guard has to be let down — that you can’t be full of pride, that a part of who you are comes out. Just last night, I had a precursor to this lesson I would learn today. I had a thought pop into my head: “if you hold your trust at the ready, isn’t your heart is exposed for attack?”

But that’s what is so attractive to me. I’ve always been in love with the tale of Beauty and the Beast— how both of them have problems to face, but that they complement each other so well. It is devastatingly romantic to see someone who normally seems perfect, yet they have a weak spot— a tenderness that must be worked on daily. Some people only have to wear glasses for certain occasions, such as for reading or driving. It’s only when they pull out their assistance that they reveal their handicap. Some find the lesser-known weakness an attractive thing— it’s relatable. One cannot be a best friend to someone one doesn’t know or trust—  they have to have shared fears, goals, faults, and aspirations. Being a relatable person involves having been a failure. That’s why everyone hates the beautiful, social, scholastic, and all-around successful stars in their social circle— they don’t show any signs of human imperfection, whether they mean to hide it or not.

Respect toward a person becomes greater when he or she becomes honest…touchable.  Do you feel a greater respect for a successful politician, media entertainer, or athlete before or after you’ve read their autobiography? Is a teacher more or less forgiving after a student has explained their negligence in their studies? I feel that a man in great power with all his children in an Ivy League school is intimidating and respectable, but if he had a child with a mental incapability, he suddenly is trusted with greater respect for having dealt with life’s curve balls in taking care of his child. In short, weaknesses happen to everyone, but it’s not until we break down our walls of pride that we can connect and bond.

The truth can tear apart friendships, but in the end, it can provide healing, dulling the roar of frustration and mistrust. Finally knowing a best friend’s secret or of a beau’s unfaithfulness will at first bring heartache, but seen in the proper perspective, as Ruiz found out last that night as he penned his song, it can bring about true healing and relief. Maybe that friend turned out to be adopted, or that significant other was definitely not The One.

Taking this thought process heavenward and a little branched off, this lesson is so very connected to what God does for our lives—how He can take off from our honesty and trust. One has to be honest and vulnerable to be able to rely on the true, strong, Almighty God, to come before him and lay it all down at His feet. When one can trust Him, finding His will becomes available. Finding and staying in the will of God requires a reckless trust in:

1) That His Word is true, alive, and unchanging,

2) Prayer—and the movement of the Spirit on your heart (think of Phillip and the eunuch in the desert, Acts 8:26-40),

3) Wisdom—Act “not with fleshly wisdom” (2 Cor. 1:12), but asking for God’s wisdom (James 1:5).  Dr. Adrian Rogers said, “Get your heart clean, get your motive clear, search the Scripture, pray, and do what you think God wants you to do… Use the brain that God gave you!”

4) Providence. “A man’s heart plans his way, /But the Lord directs his steps.” (Prov 16:9) God will open and close doors as you are seeking His will for your life.

(I listened to Dr. Rogers give his sermon, “Lighting the Future” today, and it gave a similar message to my heart as did Ruiz’s journal.  The bullets above are his, but the main points are mine unless quoted.)

Ruiz was able to write his song that night, and even to sing it in front of our class later on. And it was beautiful. A lesson Ruiz learned and shared years ago is finally coming into a clear resonance for me this evening, and it’s part of a melody I wanted to pass on: Let go of trying to be the best, to be original, and just be plain ol’ honest you, with all your faults and weaknesses. You are the best YOU anybody can be, and that’s something everybody can relate to. And of course, learn how to trust God— to be vulnerable before the Creator of this complex, intricate universe, “…and He shall direct your paths.”

Starting Off...

 So... I've really been encouraged over this Thanksgiving break to begin a blog... and maybe one day, it'll behoove my efforts toward a successful career... and I love to write to everyone, so here goes. To start off, perhaps a reasoning behind my infatuation with the written word— this was for a scholarship back in the fall of '09 (it was mostly on poetry):

I have been somewhat of a lifelong writer. Oh yes, there have been times where I have had to put my pen or my laptop down and do the things that most people call real work, such as learning how to report what someone else said by way of research paper, or waiting tables, or even dealing with the tender hearts and minds of my friends. But perhaps one of my favorite things to do is to "people watch", and to muse upon the emotions on their faces, and try to feel what they are dealing with in the multi-faceted jewel called life. I write as I think, and they are suddenly a beloved character in the storybook of my life, a piece to the puzzle of who I am.

I cannot allow this writing to be submitted without mentioning the person who taught me to love poetry: Jason Ruiz. He was my Advanced English 9 teacher years ago, and has remained my friend throughout high school. He began "The Poet's Society", a club based off the movie, "The Dead Poet's Society".  This club was dedicated to students who wished to publish their work as teenagers, just to give them a starting point. I have to admit that this past year, we never submitted anything, but in years previous we held workshops and "fish bowled" each other's work. This is why I love poetry: It can say so much in a few, artistically placed phrases. One can entrust their feelings, their very heart, onto paper in poetry. And I have fallen in love with the danger of letting oneself go, of letting others see one's heart splayed onto a page for all to see... It is a way of bleeding black, onto a crisp sheet of white, and causing a movement in the hearts of all who decipher the splotches. 

So yeah... I hope that if you follow my blog... it's worth it to ya!