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sierrajade
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Name: Sierra Jade
Interests: Living, learning how to love, searching for redemption.
Expertise: Dancing in the rain, breaking the sound barrier when I sneeze, procrastinating, getting lost no matter how detailed the directions may be, running on Cruzan time.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/7/2004
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| "Miss Jade, the only difference between boys and girls is that girls have breasts and when you tickle them they pee in their pants, and when you tickle boys they don't pee in their pants. Oh yeah, and boys have penises."
-Quoted verbatim by Jakob the five-year old I baby sit.
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|  | Currently Watching
Frida
By Salma Hayek, M?a Maestro, Amelia Zapata, Alejandro Usigli, Diego Luna, Alfred Molina, Lucia Bravo, Valeria Golino, Patricia Reyes Sp?ndola, Lol? Navarro, Roger Rees, Ferm?n Mart?nez, Roberto Medina, Ashley Judd, Antonio Banderas, Lila Downs, Martha Claudia Moreno, Maria Ines Pintado, Aida L?pez, Ivana Sejenovich
see related |
Today my major accomplishment was teaching Jakob (the five year old I baby sit) to draw stars. Not too much I know, but I'm proud of him. And his excitement for learning and drawing makes my heart smile.
This movie by the way was very good. Heart wrenching when looking from the perspective of how broken humans are, yet it is within those ashes and suffering that beauty and inspiration emerge.
Yesterday I had the yearning to go to art school. Part of me really wants to work for a few years and save some money (and pay off loans) and build a portfolio to apply to school. But the other part of me is terrified I could never make a living doing that, nor that I would have anything substantial or effective to say with my art. The deepest recesses of my soul believes art and music can bring change individually and corporately, but the outer extremities of my thoughts and emotions are plagued by the fear that practicality creates. But I suppose the analysis of why I don't let myself fully live by my most profound convictions is for another post.
Peace to everyone. | | |
| After much chiding from friends, here is another post. Hopefully it will be of greater substance than previous posts.
A few weeks ago I had lunch with Melissa and David, and we stumbled into a conversation about how church doesn't satisfy us like it used to and how we don't feel like the churches we are going to really pay attention to what drives and inspires us and our faith. I confessed that I am not really motivated by outside passions (i.e. carrying for the poor, feeding the hungry, loving my enemy, fighting injustices, basically all the things Christians are truly called to). It's not that these things don't excite me, but I am not naturally inclined to engage in them because unless I am authentically transformed by the Gospel to act, I feel like a fake. And lately, I have been a bit disillusioned in church because I don't feel challenged in these areas and it seems that so many churches are failing to live up to their potential in illustrating what the Kingdom of God looks like.
Yet, today I realized how much deeper my discontent runs. I picked up Nouwen's "The Wounded Healer" again today, after having read it a few summers ago. Seeking healing seems to be a continual theme for me- so I picked it up in hopes of finding some refreshment. And I did, but not the kind I was expecting.
From page 38
"I am afraid that in a few decades the Church will be accused of having failed in its most basic task: to offer men creative ways to communicate with the source of human life."
That's ultimately it. I in and of myself am insufficient to communicate with my creator. Of course that is general knowledge, but I have been frustrated with praying for so long- words are never enough. And I end up having a conversation with God that is comparable to talking with someone whom you are bored with and so you advert your eyes as a means to show them you are distracted and are ready for their monologue to be over with.
"But how can we avoid this danger? I think by no other way than to enter ourselves first of all into the center of our existence and become familiar with the complexities of our inner lives. As soon as we feel at home in our own house, discover the dark corners as well as the light spots, the closed doors as well as the drafty rooms, our confusion will evaporate, our anxiety will diminish, and we will be capable of creative work."
Yet, my own self-destructive tendencies inhibit me from being creative (whether it be playing music, painting, writing letters to friends, or finding new ways to commune with God) because it is those very acts that force me beyond complacency to a place of honesty with myself that is sometimes terrifying. Why? I think because it is a man's natural state of being is a form of self-destruction, but that is for another entry.
"The key word here is articulation. The man who can articulate the movements of his inner life, who can give names to his varied experiences, need no longer be a victim of himself, but is able slowly and consistently to remove the obstacles that prevent the spirit from entering. He is able to create space for Him whose heart is greater than his, whose eyes see more than his, and whose hands can heal more than his."
Perhaps, I find prodding into my inner life a daunting task because it is in essence a solitary and isolating endeavor. I do in fact need those in the body not only to show me creative ways to deeply commune with the giver of all true life, but to also struggle alongside me while I learn how to be honest with the dark and light filled places of my soul. And it is a little disillusioning when it seems there are so few people in the Church actually living in that intimacy.
For now, I'll find peace in more accurately stating my frustrations with the Church in general, and myself specifically. | | |
| Working on my resume for my possible internship this summer with World Relief. I'm slightly discouraged, I have no real experience in anything. I was so much more active in high school, and now that doesn't count. I really want to go an Irish pub and dance all night instead. | | |
| Thanks for the warm welcome everyone, even if this is somewhat of an "artificial" community. Since my last post I spent about a week with my Mimi (grandmother), brother, and dad in Texas. Now, I'm back in St. Croix with my mom, sister Zia, and Irvin (my mom's husband). Most of my days have been spent at the beach and playing Egyptian Ratscrew with Zia.
Being back is somewhat surreal. Possibly because I feel like I am constantly being reintroduced to the people that mom and Zia are becoming. Zia's island accent has become thicker and acquired new phrases that I am unfamiliar with and mom increasingly desires to embody Rastafarian ideologies. And, Irvin simply is never around to really get to know. Nevertheless, each day provides opportunities to strengthen ties with one another as we recognize and accept the new identities we are creating for ourselves.
After being absent for a year has also attributed to my renewed gratefulness for this place. I waver between wanting to go back to school and cringing at the thought of stateside life. I miss the acceptance that people offer one another, the chaos of Christmas Village, the abundance of interracial couples, gooseberry ice cream and mangoes, stray goats and horses, roadside stands boasting everything from vegetables, to coconuts, to Rastafarian products, the good vibrations of Bob Marley blasted from load speakers. I miss the fact that everything possible goes wrong (only here would there be a detour into the K-Mart parking lot, frequent power outages, and the serious articles in the paper depict people getting caught for smuggling crack in curry packets, etc.), but in reality it is all okay because the sun still rises and sets everyday to remind us that there is constant and greater rhythm to life. I miss the perspective that living close to the ocean offers you. I miss my family.
In other news, I'm taking advantage of winter break and allowing myself to succumb to one of my greatest pleasures: reading. Currently I am reading the book mentioned above and highly recommend it to anyone interested in questions of the relationship between Art, Science, Quality, and how our dualistic thinking regarding these matters prevents us from truly making change within ourselves and the world at large. Reading parts of it remind me of listening to a David Wilcox song.
In the spirit on education outside of school, here is part of my current and living booklist. I would love for you all to add some of your favorite titles to it (I WANT YOUR RECOMMENDATIONS). Much thanks. And much love and blessings for the New Year.
1. "The Souls of Black Folks" by W.E.B. Du Bois
2. "There Are No Children Here" by Alex Kotlowitz
3. "Savage Inequalities: Children in America's Schools" by Jonathan Kozol
+4. "Honky" by Dalton Conley
5. "Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave"
6. "Bobo's in Paradise" by David Brooks
7. "Thinking in Jazz"
8. "White Woman's Christ, Black Woman's Jesus"
+9. "United by Faith"
10. "A Many Colored Kingdom"`
11. Allen Ginsberg poetry
12. Diary of Clara Schumann
13. "Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention" by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi
+14. "Culture and Imperialism" by Edward Said
15. "Peau Noire, Masques Blancs" by Frantz Fanon
16. "A Bend in the River" by V.S. Naipaul
17. "The Good Earth" Pearl S. Buck
18. "Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and Sexuality" by Susan McClary
19. "We wish to inform you that tomorrow our families will be killed" by Gorwich
20. "Collapsed"
21. "The Time of the Butterflies" by Julia Alvarez
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