Italia

In one of my more recent acts of tragically mistaken pride, I deleted all my photos.

ALL

OF

THEM

…

I can’t even talk about it.

So, I am extra glad that I created this video back in August made from snippets of videos that I took, both on purpose and on accident (with this weirdly cool setting that strings your photos together as you take them).

I think it actually provides a really cool and pretty accurate over-view of my time there, especially the time I spent with my groupies. It is messy, beautiful and a little bit inappropriate, and there is way too much of me trying to show off in public, but that’s why it’s real.

I think today marks 1 year since we left the safe-nest of rehearsal in sunny Sanremo and entered the freezing winter of tour. We literally drove through snow for 3 solid hours to get to our first terrible performance in Milan. And my lovelies were all hungover. We affectionately referred to that experience as Badger Day (apparently a hang over tastes like Badger) for the rest of the year.  Those first few weeks were really hard on all of us. You can hear in the first few clips how ragged my voice is. (Kinda how I sound today too!) But nothing forces you to love three strangers more than being trapped in a van that won’s stop making a horrifying beeping sound for 6 months. I promise.

And I do love these three. It took me a while to be able to say it, but I would never take back my time in  Italy. It was magical.

PS, there’s kinda a lota bad Shakespeare quoting. And I look pretty fat. It took me a long time to decide to share this with the world.  You’ve been warned. Enjoy!

I even drank a coke, and other admissions

Today was

No time for breakfast

And a flat tire

And late for class

And that wasn’t due

And I already know this

And flat hair

And poor eating choices

And I don’t know how

And bad skin

And heavy lifting

And working late

 

But a rainbow followed me all the way home.

And I saw homeless people being fed.

And kids were riding scooters.

And I wrote a story.

And kind and funny friends.

And home cooked dinners are being made on my street.

And my family loves me.

And a squishy fat baby.

And I smiled at a bus driver.

 

So, I guess I’ll do it again tomorrow.

 

Poland! and German! and Serendipity.

Today several good things happened.

1. I wrote two and a half one-page papers in under 2 hours. This is great for me. I am THE SLOWEST writer. And the first one-pager was actually pretty good. I’m proud.

2. Andy, in my program had a genius idea. We are creating/writing a play about middle eastern folk tales for one of our classes. This show will be performed for a few local schools. We set a goal to submit the show to The International Association of Theatre for Children and Young People (ASSITEJ) conference in Warsaw Poland in 2014. This is like, the biggest thing I could do in Children’s Theatre. It’s amazing and terrifying to even think about. Just submitting is pretty cool. I definitely want to attend the conference, but going as a presenter would be amazing. Very once in a grad-school lifetime. Poland…I never really thought about going there, but now that I am planning to I am super excited. I think it will be awesome. I hope if we get accepted we can score some good funding to help pay for it. Yeah! New country!

3. I found out my friend Shannon likes my blog. She even nominated me for a Liebester award. This means she likes me. So I get to answer some questions she posted. Obvs I love to talk about myself, so how could I resist.  This is happening below.

4. Also cool, though it happened a few days ago, I was searching for books of folktales for the project explained above when I SERENDIPITOUSLY found this book on the same shelf

For reals. This book has been out of print for years. I have been looking for it. So great.

Also, last weekend this happened. Fire is the coolest. I had never seen a couch burn like that before. A warning against any of you who like to smoke in bed: DONT.

 

 

 

Here are all the to dos for this Liebter idea: I’m only concerned with the first 2 really, but it’s a nice idea, give it a go.

1. Post 11 random things about myself.
2. Answer the 11 questions my nominator set for me.
3. Create 11 questions for my nominees.
4. Nominate 11 other bloggers with fewer than 200 followers (no tag-backs).
5. Go to each of their blogs to tell them about their nominations.

So.

Some random things I’m thinking about ME tonight:

1. I share too much on Facebook, but really, it brings me joy.

2. I liked the movie Les Mis much better the second time I saw it. I even cried this time. (Similar experience to Harry Potter V.)

3. My favorite movie is Finding Nemo. No shame.

4. Today I texted 4 people and called two. One of the phone calls was to my old boss to tell him how awesome he is. The other was to my sister.

5. I think I’ve gained 5 lbs since Christmas. My pants that I was so so proud about getting back into in August were tight today. Not. Good.

6. The last TV show I turned on was Freaks and Geeks, nope, wait… it was Firefly, more than a week ago.

7. I love this: The Lizzy Bennet Diaries. Warning. This will suck several hours of your life away. There are currently about 80 episodes. Plus Lydia bonus features.

8. I really wish I had a boyfriend/husband. Like REALLY.

9. I parted my hair down the middle today. It made me think about high school and how big a deal it was to me when I started side parting and got layers finally.

10. I am surrounded by sick people and I’m really trying not to get the flu.

11. I’m actually enjoying some of my text books this term. Is that even allowed?

Shannon’s Questions:

1. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? Pasadena CA. I love that town. Though London is probably tied.

2. What was the last thing you ate? A hot chocolate from a coffee shop. And a cup of chili from Wendy’s. I love that stuff.

3. If you could meet anyone alive or dead who would it be? I was just thinking how I would love to interview or hang out with Baz Luhrmann. He’s the coolest. So excited for The Great Gatsby. I just love his movies!

4. What was the name of your first pet? I think Willy, our chocolate lab was first. Maggie the boy cat came shortly after.

5. If you had an extra $100 to spend on anything you wanted what would you do with it? Running shoes. My current pair is from Australia, ie 6 years old. Definitely time for an upgrade.

6. What’s the nicest thing someone has done for you? One time I left my car at my brother’s in Vegas while I went on a trip, I think it was to New York or Boston, and when I came back Jeff had changed my oil and washed the car. Amazing! So sweet.

7. What is your favorite thing to cook/bake? I love making fresh salsa in the summer and jalapeno poppers wrapped in bacon anytime!

8. What is the farthest away place you’ve ever been? I guess that would have to be Echuca Australia. Pretty much right the other side of the world. I served there for 4 months as a missionary.

9. What book are you reading right now? Lots of boring textbooks, but according to Goodreads I am also reading Mansfield Park by Jane Austin. I think that’s the last one I need to finish the compete works. I like it, but I keep having to start over since I am about 160 pages in. Far enough to be lost whenever I try and pick it up.

10. What is your favorite outfit? I love my hot pink pencil skirt and my black and white leopard print cardi. I don’t think I’ve tried them together yet though.

11. What was your childhood nickname(s)? My family has always called me Randa or Rand. Amy tried hard to make Randi a thing. I rejected it.

Katie

Carrie

Caroline

Sally

Sam

Aly

…whoever else is reading this…?
Hello?

Questions you may feel inclined to Answer

1. What’s your favorite book and why?

2. Who is your favorite sibling, and how did she get to be so awesome?

3. What is your fantasy travel destination?

4. What is your alternate life path?
5. Is there intelligent life on other planets and will we ever meet them?
6. What broke up you and your first best friend?
7. Who is your longest lasting pal? Why?
8. In what ways do you hope to be just like your mother, and in what ways do you not?
9. College class you never got to take?

10. Hobby you can’t afford?
11. What is the deal?!

Feel free to just answer in the comments. That’s what my lazy self would do.

New Year, new day-planner, new toothbrush.

2013 has been sounding ominous to me since I got wind of it sometime during 2012.

13, really? Are we suddenly all ok with this number? I haven’t heard a single joke about it. Maybe we are all too scared to admit how terrible an entire year of bad luck could be, even in jest.

My 2012, The Year Without Fear, was a smashing success, as you, my faithful readers have seen. (Today is the anniversary of my flight to Italy!) I was able to uproot my life, as well as my heart, and mind, explore uncharted territory, and land on my feet here in Az. It was a year of letting go of fears that had been dragging me down, sneakily disguised in other, more noble concerns, for too long. I can’t say that I have 100% overcome of all my fears, but I know I can. I’ve made huge progress.

I mean, I ate olives, several times. On purpose.

Around my birthday I began contemplating a theme for this year. At the recommendation of my junior high English teacher (Thank you, Facebook) I quickly settled on creation.

Creation.

Creating. Creative.

Creativity. Created. Creatively be creative.

I’ve been studying the scriptures, spiritual guides, and my heart about this topic and I have learned a lot about creativity. What I have learned has taught me that this will be more focused, much more structured, and therefore much more challenging year. Strange right? Those are not words I normally associate with creation, but they are very true.

Here’s is what I’ve learned about Creation. It requires action. It is not spontaneous. While it can be inspired and surprising, and lead to all kinds of things that weren’t anticipated, it doesn’t come from nothing. It is a messy business requiring concerted and continual effort. Planning, preparing, organizing, and forming are all forms of creation.

Not all creations are perfect. Some will get partially formed and be put on a shelf or crumpled and tossed in the waste bin. Some will reach their final stage be unrecognizable from their first draft. Some will spring into a hydra’s head of iterations, all from one idea. Some creations you might not even like when they are finished. Some will be tinkered and tinkered and tinkered with and never actually be “finished.” The goal is to create, not to create a masterpiece. Stay focused on the process, not the end goal.

Michaelangelo never finished his ‘Prisoners’ statues, but they are as finished as they needed to be to express powerful emotion

There are many accounts of the creation of the world. I don’t think any of them tell the whole story. (No good story tells the whole story. The whole story is on my depressing bank statement.) Is any one of them wrong? Is any one of them untrue? Some start earlier, some end later. Some are contradictory. I don’t care! They are all wondrous. I love all of them and learn different lessons from each one. I can pick and choose from them what I want, when I want it. They are creations unto themselves. There is no one way to create a thing, and no such thing as a perfect creation, unless your are God. (I’m not.)

I did a lot of snuggling newborns and talking about labor stories over Christmas.

Here is part of what it made me think about. Women are born to create. We are internally structured for it. We have a place in our body devoted to building new life. Something new is created by mixing parts of who we are with the parts of something (someone) we are passionate about. After many months of hope, and worry, and discomfort, and in a final burst of extreme anguish, the new life is released to the world. It will grow independently, under our watchful care. And become something greater than we ever imagined. We will weep, feeling unworthy of it. We are not capable of understanding what it will mean to others beyond ourselves.  Even though, it is our creation, sprung from deep inside ourselves.

When we are not in the process of creation we literally bleed for want of it every month. Part of me feels that painfully emptiness of what I am not doing, every time.

These are not just physical meanings.  These are spiritual metaphors of all our creations.

One of the grandest uses of this metaphor is in the New Testament in Rev 12.  Read it. It’s amazing.

I’ve always been captivated by this image–not that image, the image from the scripture. That is just a representation of what I see in my mind. In my mind it’s a beautiful illustrated film.  She is a wonder. She is powerful. She is royal. She is humble. She is creating. She is protecting. She is protected. She is attacked. She is strengthened. She giving everything she can to God. He is giving her everything back. Heaven is on her side. The earth helps her. She connects them. The devil fights against her. She is fighting back, still.

Then there is the Mother of the Men, the earth herself, who Enoch overhears crying during his terrible vision in Moses 7. Like every overworked and exhausted mother she weeps for her children, for herself. She needs a break. Enoch, like any good man, is concerned when he sees this, and takes up her case too. “When shall she rest?” he asks the Lord about 5 times until he knows that this poor lady will eventually get her much deserved spa session.

This woman, (not that woman, that pic is almost totally unrelated. I just liked it.) the earth, is weeping, just like the Lord, because her children have chosen hatred and violence. They have polluted her with  filth and she longs to be clean and pure, like she was when God made her. This is what can happen when creation goes wrong, or stops.

I relate to both of these women. Creation is about longing and fighting, growing and returning.

This talk: Happiness, Your Heritage also delves into how to create beauty around you. How to develop yourself into who the Lord wants you to be, and how that works hand in hand with charity and kindness. I could say more about all of this, but it’s time for dinner.

For 2013 Here are things I want to create in some kind of order:

1. Babies. Just one would do. But this is a two-to-tango affair, so I can’t really make any promises. Specially since he has to marry me first.
2. Beauty. I will spread beauty wherever I go. This has begun through a increased use of makeup, particularly red lipstick.
3. Art. Once upon a time on this blog I started sharing chapters from a novel I was writing. This novel has since morphed into a play that I am committed to finishing and trying to have produced. The production may not happen til 2014, but the writing will happen this year. If. It. Kills. Me. The Princes of Serendip will Sail again!
4. Charity/Kindness/Compassion. I want to be a nicer person. A less sarcastic, ironic, absorbed in my own wild cleverness person. I want to be sweet and loving, and kind. These are the things that God sees in me. It’s my job to live up to them.
5. Connection between mind and body. I am learning things about myself. I have learned that my physical health is exactingly tied up in my mental health. These two parts of me influence one another in a never ending cycle. I want better control of this swinging pendulum, and to bring it into a nice steady rhythm.
6. Opportunity for professional growth.
7. Meaningful relationships.

Isn’t this a great list? I mean, I can create whatever I want because as long as I do SOMETHING I am creating, even if it sucks! There is no wrong way to create, so let’s do it!

Snap Shot of a Grad

You may think, “She hasn’t been writing!”

Au contraire, mon cherie! I have been writing my lil’tukis off. My first semester of grad school is only 11 days and 23 or so pages of writing from being over. (That’s a three page assignment, and a 20 page paper ((on Peter Pan)), if you were wondering,)

But here is a sample paper I have been writing tonight for my Theatre for Social Change class. The class has been…enlightening. Sometimes over the top (i.e. staging a puppet protest the week before the election), but on the whole, insightful.

If you ever wondered what it’s like to step into a graduate level theatre course, well here is your peek. I wish you could see firsthand a dozen grown people dancing out metaphorical representations of their life path while being oppressed on all sides by a literal manifestation of their obstacles in a dirty studio. It’s a sight to make a business major shed tears of laughter and jealousy, I assure you.

(Teaching some kids some things I learned this year–wish I had a shot of us crawling around pretending to be hypnotized.)

(It’s long, prepare yourself)

“Drama therapy, our final unit in class has also been my favorite. Despite serious hesitations about undertaking it, I have found it to be pedagogically fascinating and personally insightful.  Since the classes leading up to Thanksgiving, I have taken time each week to reflect on the exercises we explored in class in my personal journal. I have experienced powerful personal insights that I want to remember in the future. For example, before Thanksgiving I was able to enact a memory scene for the class with my grandmother who has passed on. I was able to honor her memory by offering her a simple “thank you” for teaching me about the beauties of nature, love for even God’s smallest creatures, and what it means to be a strong, feminine woman. These are lessons I didn’t fully recognize from her example until it was too late. I also especially found the constellation exercise powerful. Lindsay chose me to play myself as part of her ‘present’ constellation. I had no idea she felt so strongly about our friendship. Her recognition in addition to my own constellation, which felt sadly void in the ‘present’ helped me to recognize the importance of putting some relationships I have been holding onto in my periphery, hoping they would make their way back into the present, into my past. This was a powerful lesson in moving forward and adjusting my focus.
Our class on November 21, the day before Thanksgiving, will be remembered as one of the best I’ve had in my near twenty years of formal education. It was refreshing to find myself thinking deeply about those I love best, the most beautiful moments of my life, and, particularly powerful, thinking of my wishes for the future as already having come to pass. Tears of joy are always better than tears of sorrow, stress, or regret. I’ve shed enough of those.
Today’s activity of dancing our life path was also very insightful. On paper I tried to envision my life not as a linear graph of ups and downs, but rather as a struggle toward centeredness, a balance between outward and inner awareness. The image I created of my ideal future looked like a flower in bloom with spirals outward and inward returning a large center with circles representing self, family, and God. When it came time for the class to battle the obstacles impeding desired progress, I was able to observe the actions of others for a few rounds. I found myself feeling discomfited. As my turn to dance approached, I realized what was bothering me. I have spent a lifetime believing that the challenges we face, particularly, those not of our own making, are tests sent to teach us important lessons and make us stronger. Like waves in the ocean we can break ourselves against them, let them drag us down, or we can ride them as best we can and see what new places they take us. While I do believe I am the primary agent in my own destiny I also believe that there is an all knowing God who can see my potential much more clearly than I can. A gardening analogy works great in this situation.  My grandmother might have writen, ‘Little Seed, you might want going to grow up to be the most beautiful rose bush in the garden, but God might happen to know that you are actually a plum tree. You can wear yourself out trying to grow a red rose, but he knows that with some smelly fertilizer and lots of painful pruning and you will one day spread your branches as pleasant shade, a home for birds, and yield the sweetest fruit in the neighborhood. You are meant to be a lot more productive than a silly, thorny rose bush.’ Thanks Grandma.  When it at last came time for me dance in the face of obstacles, I decided I would try and go with the flow. My obstacle, Elizabeth, and I swayed and boogied and shimmied together. I didn’t stay exactly on track of where I intended, but I sure had a good time.
This is the power of drama. This semester has been full of wonderful growth and challenges. It has been fascinating to make connections, almost daily, between the work we have done in this class, Dramaturgy, and Teaching Methods for Drama. For the latter class I recently wrote about my changing perception of drama practice in the classroom as compared to more familiar to me theatrical practices:
“In drama, learning is made possible through experimentation, activation, and performance. Performance leads to the same mental and emotional awakenings for a performer, with or without an audience present. The audience is the defining characteristic between drama and theatre. In theatre, the performer must be focused not on ‘the self’ embodying ‘the other,’ but also on communication with the audience. However, in drama exercises the performer focuses only on inhabiting the role of ‘the other,’ for personal learning, and perhaps, the support of his fellow participants.”
All my learning this semester seems to have been aimed toward rewiring the way I think about drama methods. Drama allows space and time for personal growth and assessment that is not feasible in a production mode. A student trained in drama methods will be far better equipped to face the demands of an energy gobbling audience. A performer armed with the methods we have studied in this class will have an enormous advantage in emotional processing and being able to identify new ways to reach out to those in and outside the production.“

One awesome thing about this term has been the chance to really connect my spirituality with my craft. I feel super lucky that way. Theatre, and Drama, are the coolest!

2/3 of my fellow first year ASU TFY MFAs. (Eatin popsicles back when it was 115 degrees.)

Any questions?

Me and The Weight: She’s so, bah da da, bah da da bah, Heavy

I have a good memory. My family teases me about it. My memory holds great things and hard things. There are things I love to remember and things I wish I could forget. Here are some scenes from my life, and The Weight.

———————

When I was 6 years old I was in the hallway playing with my brother and his friend. His friend called me a baby.
Am not!
Are too.
Am not!
Then how come you still have all that fat, like a baby?
I pinched my protruding belly and then sucked it in, and giggled. Am not!
That was the first time I remember thinking, ‘I don’t want to be fat.’

———————-

When I was 10 years old I stood on a scale in my friend’s parent’s bathroom. It said 164lbs. That was the beginning of junior high. The next two years are a blur of anger and hormones…I wish it was more of a blur, to be honest.

———————-

I still consider my junior year of high school the busiest time of my life. Crazy, but true. I was a 15 year old AP student, acting and stage managing for my high school theatre program, attending a different club meeting for every day during lunch, zero period choir on top of early morning seminary five days a week. Seminary was only part of what amounted to about 15 hours a week of church activities. I was frequently fully scheduled from 6:10am to 9pm. I was sleeping about 4 to 5 hours a night, eating everything that crossed my eye, dealing with a chronic asthmatic cough, unexplained eczema, and painful cystic acne, headaches, bloating, constipation, and back pain. Some of these symptoms were so frequent that that I didn’t realize they were not how everyone felt all the time.
I had two prescribed inhalers, one of which made me shake and feel nauseous. I was on and off antibiotics, and had a wide range of lotions and potions for the skin problems. And weighing in at about 220lbs, I had a social life that could mostly be described as funny/insulting. I wrote some poems about dying of unspecified causes.
I was sick, but I didn’t really believe it. In my mind I was a strong, healthy, fat teenager. I would occasionally see doctors (always a different doctor as we had a really amazingly crappy HMO) who would ask me the same dozen questions about my symptoms without actually looking me in the eye. Until Doctor Goldburg. Just before my senior year he said to me:
“You need to get moving more, and eating less.” He told me that my cough and eczema and acne were related.
Wha!?
Yes! said he, “They are related to being overweight.”
“Oh.”
I said to myself, “these are the symptoms of being a fat girl.”

———————-

Joni was my freshman roommate. She had depression, and she was runner. She had run a marathon.
“NO WAY!”
“Yeah, it wrecked my knee.”
I had run a mile without stopping once or twice, under threat of failing PE. Once when we were eating dinner together in the cafeteria she pushed her plate full of food away and said it was making her feel sick. I stared blankly.
**Blink Blink**
Part of my life paradigm was: Food+Me=Good. Always, =Good. Maybe occasionally, =not so tasty, but always, =Good. Never =sick. That was a new thought. Food could affect the way a person feels, for the worse. But I actually lost some weight that year because I was forced to eat meals on a regular schedule.

———————-

That summer my dad died of colon cancer. I took a two week fast food road trip, and swelled to new levels. 230lbs. I was prescribed suppositories to help the constant constipation and blood in my stool. My skin was horrendous. The doctor never mentioned FIBER.

———————-

On my 19th birthday

I received pounds of candy, POUNDS. It was enough to fill an entire juice pitcher to overflowing. I stared at that full pitcher and imagined all that sugar and fat moving like sludge through my internal organs. Clogging up my gut. The thought disgusted me. That day I committed to ‘no sugar’ till Christmas break, with one exception for Thanksgiving day. After three days I found myself rolling around on the living room floor, crying in sugar withdrawal, but I did it. I made it more than a month without sugar (not counting Thanksgiving). When I came back to school after Christmas I started going to the new school gym with my roommates a few nights a week when my schedule allowed.

———————-

When I arrived in Provo in 2003 I had two friends. The good news was loneliness lead to jogging, and jogging lead to pooping almost every morning. It was a miracle. I got rid of the suppositories. (I think my mother is the only person who has heard me say that word out loud.) I was almost confused when I started dropping pounds. I went on Acutane. My face stopped exploding. It was another miracle. Before I left on my mission I had to have a colonoscopy. It was disgusting and terrifying.

———————-
6 months into my mission in Australia I received my first Sister Wang. (Both my greenies were named Sister Wang and from China.) In one of our first companionship inventories Sister Wang1 told me without irony or humor that to be a better missionary I needed to lose weight. She taught me about life in China and how rural chinese people look at food. She thought she would die if she had to eat meat everyday. She couldn’t believe I drank cow’s milk. “Are you a baby cow?” She asked. She made the most delicious meals out of the parts of vegetables I was going to throw out. She knew what it really meant to be hungry. She remembered the first time she had ice cream. We loved each other fiercely.

———————-
When I returned home I lived with my sister in Provo. Again I had no friends I began jogging again. I hadn’t used the inhalers for years and finally threw them away. Sally and I went back on sugar fasts and we started counting calories. One day in early April the scale read 180lbs. It had take 5 years, but I had lost 50lbs. It would be a few more years before I could even say that aloud.

50lbs less

———————-

Moving to Cedar City after graduation I was looking the best I ever had. I was feeling good. I got asked on a date for the first time ever. I was praying to meet someone and get married. I met someone. We planned a wedding.

We canceled a wedding. I gained back 30lbs. My body sort of went into shock. I got sick in the same old ways, and new ones too. I realized like never before how connected the body, mind, and soul are. When one suffers, they all suffer.
———————-
I went to Italy and ate my weight in pizzas. I don’t regret one bite. Because Italy is an enchanted land I came home at the same weight I left.

———————-
Since I moved to Arizona a month and a half ago I’ve lost more than 10 lbs. I’ve been working out at the school gym. I’ve been eating a lot of veggies and not a lot of meat or processed foods. I’ve been motivated by this sister, and this girl, this girl, my all my former roommates and heros.
I am going strong. Feeling strong. I am going to get back to 180 by my birthday–15 lbs in 8 weeks. It’s a reality. After that I am going to be 170lbs by the end of the year. That’s unexplored territory. I haven’t never been that size as a fully grown woman. I don’t know what my body will look like at that weight, but I’m curious to find out. I can’t really fathom being within my healthy body weight range (140-155), but for the first time in my life I feels like it’s possible.

———————-

There are lot of other stories I could share. Stories of eating my self silly, in secret. Stories of inspiring people who always made me feel beautiful. Stories of rejection. Maybe another time.

I am putting this out there because I want it to be real. For the first time losing weight isn’t feeling like a burden, it’s feeling like it’s the way it’s supposed to be.

So, here’s to 1300 calories and exercise everyday.

This is my body.

It is amazing.

Food has been my enemy for a long time. I am learning how to make it my friend. To make it make me well and happy. Thanks food.

Thanks body. You are an incredible gift. You are a miracle. I’m really sorry for what I’ve put you through. I want us to be friends. I want to make you feel great. I’m trying to make it up to you.

Vacations and Humanity

This last week was our spring break from work.  I know what you are thinking. “Miranda, most beautiful one, you are in Italy. Your whole existence is a vacation.”

Here is what I say “You, my most attractive people, are wrong. I work six days a week with obnoxious Italian middle schoolers (did I mention that most Italian’s have school on Saturday?) and generally spend about an additional 12-20 hours a week driving from city to city. I needed a few days off.”

Erin and I decided to use our break to visit Florence (Firenze). We spent one night there a few weeks ago (A St. Patrick’s Day Night that I will try and forget) and knew that we wanted more of Italy’s art capitol. We made a good choice.

(Not my photo BTW, since I am obedient museum tourist.)

I’m not much of one for tourist traps. I usually feel let down when I see something in person that I’ve seen on a million postcards or on TV. I tend to be especially let down by things that have taken on a shear celebrity value. I.e., the Mona Lisa: ugly and small. Old Faithful: not faithful. The Statue of Liberty…well, that was pretty cool, but shorter than pictured in Ghostbusters.

Not so with Michelangelo’s David. I’ve seen many photos, aprons, and magnets of it, but to see it in person was mind blowing. It is beautiful. It is beyond beautiful. It is human. Not in a Pygmalion way. In a way in that it is clearly made by and for humans.

As I looked at the lines and curves of the muscles I could see poor dusty Michelangelo in my mind’s eye. I saw him learning every millimeter of the stone. He knew it. He experienced every human emotion during its creation. I could feel his exhaustion, his humor, and his triumph. In the 400 years that it had been standing in Florence millions of people have seen it and felt their own humanity in its presence.

I love the moment it portrays: the moment before the crisis. It was and is unconventional for Michelangelo to portray David in this way. Traditionally he is posed as the conquering hero, sword in hand, one foot on the giant’s gory head. Gross and unrelatable to the average me. I have many more moments in life where I am scared witless not knowing how I am going to face/do the thing I know I need to face/do, but hoping above all hope that I can face/do it.

Michelangelo’s David standing stark-nakers, absolutely unguarded and powerless before his enemy. Not just his enemy, but an enemy to God and His people. BUT he, the exposed shepherd boy, is confidant in the knowledge that ‘if God be for us, who can be against us?’ He carries over his shoulder his long leather sling, and in his right hand, hidden among the fingers, a small stone. His humble weapons are almost invisible behind his bold faith in the God who will defend him.

In so many ways, this statue captures what I want to be. Humble, yet confidant. Completely vulnerable, but strong. That is the required combination for a child of God living in a human world. Those are the necessary characteristics to love completely, live unflinchingly, and to have faith unwavering.

 

I know this is all a bit artsy-fartsy. But it is true. And beyond that, Erin and I had a really good time.