Unless I should change my mind, I'm hopping over to the Tumblr. Here's my address: stephaniemichellewright.tumblr.com. Cheers!
Friday, May 22, 2015
FYI - Moving to Tumblr
Unless I should change my mind, I'm hopping over to the Tumblr. Here's my address: stephaniemichellewright.tumblr.com. Cheers!
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Dream Epiphany 1: Hope
May 17, 2015
In the last few days, I have been struck by epiphanies as I sleep. I’ll share the first one for this post: Hope creates. Where there is longing, the thing or end desired comes alive so that as one hopes, one creates. That doesn’t necessarily mean that longings immediately (or ever) materialize, but where there is yearning, when hope is strong like rock (as true hope is), a certain reality joins those desires so that something is created in hope.
Not only that, but hope creates the means to pursue the end; it clarifies the directions needed to take or try to see that the longings do, in time, find their existence. In this case, hope fuels the creation of its ends with the tenacity to see them through.
Finally, the death of hope most confirms the idea that hope creates. When hope is lost, the heart mourns. Hope takes the whole of one’s being. Hoping is when you’re banking the whole of your life on a veiled answer, waiting for it to arrive finally in your hands. We can hope for trivial things, but I’m thinking here about the things that are much greater. Longing for relations to improve between you and a loved one, persevering to reach graduation day at last, holding out for someone who would make a good spouse, waiting for the Lord’s provision, waiting for acceptance to do a certain kind of work, for certain things to get better in the church, etc. If for any reason, one feels there is no longer reason to hope for the thing desired, real loss ensues. When hope dies, something real inside also shatters. Because the loss is real, the thing hoped for must also be real as well.
Proverbs 13:12 tells us, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” If you’ve experienced this kind of deferral, then you know that it’s real. But this verse ends with reason to hope. “[A]nd hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5). Hope finds its anchor in Jesus, since we know that the character of God’s purpose is unchangeable (Hebrews 6). We have real hope in God. Let it be to the creation and pursuit of desires that are in accord with the purpose of his heart and mind.
In the last few days, I have been struck by epiphanies as I sleep. I’ll share the first one for this post: Hope creates. Where there is longing, the thing or end desired comes alive so that as one hopes, one creates. That doesn’t necessarily mean that longings immediately (or ever) materialize, but where there is yearning, when hope is strong like rock (as true hope is), a certain reality joins those desires so that something is created in hope.
Not only that, but hope creates the means to pursue the end; it clarifies the directions needed to take or try to see that the longings do, in time, find their existence. In this case, hope fuels the creation of its ends with the tenacity to see them through.
Finally, the death of hope most confirms the idea that hope creates. When hope is lost, the heart mourns. Hope takes the whole of one’s being. Hoping is when you’re banking the whole of your life on a veiled answer, waiting for it to arrive finally in your hands. We can hope for trivial things, but I’m thinking here about the things that are much greater. Longing for relations to improve between you and a loved one, persevering to reach graduation day at last, holding out for someone who would make a good spouse, waiting for the Lord’s provision, waiting for acceptance to do a certain kind of work, for certain things to get better in the church, etc. If for any reason, one feels there is no longer reason to hope for the thing desired, real loss ensues. When hope dies, something real inside also shatters. Because the loss is real, the thing hoped for must also be real as well.
Proverbs 13:12 tells us, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” If you’ve experienced this kind of deferral, then you know that it’s real. But this verse ends with reason to hope. “[A]nd hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5). Hope finds its anchor in Jesus, since we know that the character of God’s purpose is unchangeable (Hebrews 6). We have real hope in God. Let it be to the creation and pursuit of desires that are in accord with the purpose of his heart and mind.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
The Pianist
May 12, 2015
Dear Friends,
Hopeful melodies fill my house. This is its design. The pianist plays from above; those of us below receive its gift. How wonderful!
The playful music fills one’s soul with cheer. The world is all right tonight. Maybe it shouldn’t seem so but in this moment the crashing waves are kept at bay. I have One in whom I can trust. And so I find my lungs expand with breath. Can one complain in such a moment as this? No, no, certainly not.
Your fingers tell a better story than your lips. Your mind is one of great creativity; I wish I could see inside. I wish I could know your thoughts as you play. Call me up to you. Include me as a stepping note in your song. Let me dance in the life you give. That’s where I want to be.
Let joy light the fire. Let laughter erupt from the overflow. The rest will be all right.
My mind on a platter,
Stephanie
Inconvenient
May 10, 2015
My whole world has been changing so much lately. Much more
quickly than I would prefer but still changing at the right and necessary pace
given the circumstances of this transitional period. In the midst of the
changes happening around me, I find that there are also inconveniences. Two in
particular are my mind, though there may be several others.
The first of these is the inconvenience of learning more
about myself. Lately, I have specifically been learning about my need for
intimacy. This need was doubly confirmed, on top of the emotional highs and
lows that I’ve had, when I was reading a chapter from the book Friend Raising.
Apparently, it’s one of the greatest human needs. Mother Teresa is even
reported to have said that loneliness was the greatest human problems. And
she’s seen a lot.
It’s inconvenient to find that I need people in my life,
especially close personal relations with others, when I find myself in a new
town with no close friends yet. Then, there’s the tension of having to leave
again soon. So whatever people I get to know in the time I have, I know that I
won’t be able to remain in close connection forever, even if I do return with
regularity.
The other inconvenience on my mind is that I’ve decided to
quit drinking coffee, maybe forever. But at least for a month. I only drink it
moderately, usually only a cup or two a day. Still, I’ve found that lately I’ve
used it just to keep me going, and I’ve only felt more drained. It may just be
one factor in a whole host of things that need correction in my life, but it’s
at least one place I can start. So I’ve decided to let myself have a break and
let my body reset itself.
Friday, May 1, 2015
Distress of Discontent
Dilemma strikes again.
Posing questions to cyberspace.
Many answers to return.
None breathes life.
They offer no intelligence.
Do I ask, as though to pray?
This time I will not.
But the God above, instead to seek.
Who will hear my cry?
Who will see the anguish?
Nothing is right,
I feel inside.
Friends, are you so satisfied?
Discontent encroaches all around.
Who is the one blind to see?
Is the call not greater than busyness?
Is redemption only individual,
With no further implications?
If we should gather,
What is our purpose?
If I come to sit, and hear a little,
Then leave alone, the way I came.
Is that all it takes to satisfy?
Do those motions make you smile?
Am I the only one who sees the flaw?
The flaw I see but solution, not.
I cannot show the rage I feel.
For who would hear a lacking smile?
Does change ever come bottom-up?
Perhaps this is not my place.
Still, I must survive.
Seeking a heart of warmth.
But until exposed, then addressed,
Should the poison surge abiding?
Send the doctor, please, be quick.
Posing questions to cyberspace.
Many answers to return.
None breathes life.
They offer no intelligence.
Do I ask, as though to pray?
This time I will not.
But the God above, instead to seek.
Who will hear my cry?
Who will see the anguish?
Nothing is right,
I feel inside.
Friends, are you so satisfied?
Discontent encroaches all around.
Who is the one blind to see?
Is the call not greater than busyness?
Is redemption only individual,
With no further implications?
If we should gather,
What is our purpose?
If I come to sit, and hear a little,
Then leave alone, the way I came.
Is that all it takes to satisfy?
Do those motions make you smile?
Am I the only one who sees the flaw?
The flaw I see but solution, not.
I cannot show the rage I feel.
For who would hear a lacking smile?
Does change ever come bottom-up?
Perhaps this is not my place.
Still, I must survive.
Seeking a heart of warmth.
But until exposed, then addressed,
Should the poison surge abiding?
Send the doctor, please, be quick.
Monday, April 13, 2015
What she has
She has no legs;
She won't run.
She has no arms;
She won't fight.
But-
She has heart;
So she'll feel.
Eyes
And she'll cry.
Words
So she'll write.
She won't run.
She has no arms;
She won't fight.
But-
She has heart;
So she'll feel.
Eyes
And she'll cry.
Words
So she'll write.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Nike for Creativity
There seems to be a way in which people get so caught in everything that is immediately in front of them. This is something I’m guilty of, too. but I find that it’s an especially difficult pattern to break when your dependent on others to create that world that surrounds you. I mean specifically the kinds of things that we use to entertain ourselves. Because if we become too reliant on others than we lose the ability to create, examine and interpret the world for ourselves.
For example, music. Music never satisfies. It fills like a cup that has lost its bottom. It fills, yes, but then it empties. So we become dependent on new sounds, always new sounds to fancy our ears and bring us to new sensations by the combination of new interval patterns. There’s the potential to feel awakened in the moment. Then hit replay. Feel it again. And again. And again. Until it too becomes old. Search for the new. But by search, I mean find a new artist, a new album, a new style, a new beat - that someone else has created. Let someone else do it.
But. What if the world fell silent? What if we lost all recorded music? What if the only music available to us was the music we could create in the present moment? What melodies would you whistle? Would you create your own? Would you find that music was worth so much to you that you would seek to teach yourself its rules? Go out of your way to find an instrument and excavate its treasures? Or would you move on and forget this gift of music all together?
My concern is this: We leave creativity (of all sorts) to the professionals. If its quality is not of the highest standard, than it simply cannot be tolerated. So we say we can’t create, and pay others to do it instead.
My challenge would be, then, in every area, whether it be music, storytelling, poetry, art, making videos, to learn to break from what’s popular and just. cre. ate. It might suck. But then you’ll know it. And maybe you’ll grow. Or maybe you won’t and that’s OK, too. Other people will still create art available to enjoy. But if you don’t try yourself, you’ll never know what you’re capable of. Just do it.
#nikeforcreativity
#sorryforanytypos
#lunch>proofreading
For example, music. Music never satisfies. It fills like a cup that has lost its bottom. It fills, yes, but then it empties. So we become dependent on new sounds, always new sounds to fancy our ears and bring us to new sensations by the combination of new interval patterns. There’s the potential to feel awakened in the moment. Then hit replay. Feel it again. And again. And again. Until it too becomes old. Search for the new. But by search, I mean find a new artist, a new album, a new style, a new beat - that someone else has created. Let someone else do it.
But. What if the world fell silent? What if we lost all recorded music? What if the only music available to us was the music we could create in the present moment? What melodies would you whistle? Would you create your own? Would you find that music was worth so much to you that you would seek to teach yourself its rules? Go out of your way to find an instrument and excavate its treasures? Or would you move on and forget this gift of music all together?
My concern is this: We leave creativity (of all sorts) to the professionals. If its quality is not of the highest standard, than it simply cannot be tolerated. So we say we can’t create, and pay others to do it instead.
My challenge would be, then, in every area, whether it be music, storytelling, poetry, art, making videos, to learn to break from what’s popular and just. cre. ate. It might suck. But then you’ll know it. And maybe you’ll grow. Or maybe you won’t and that’s OK, too. Other people will still create art available to enjoy. But if you don’t try yourself, you’ll never know what you’re capable of. Just do it.
#nikeforcreativity
#sorryforanytypos
#lunch>proofreading
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Tick Tock
Tick tock
Another winter’s come and gone
Tick tock
Only days left to go
Tick tock
Lift your eyes up -
Lift your eyes up!
Tick tock
The time is now to trust in God
Tick tock
Your weak hands can be made strong
Tick tock
For forgiveness is already yours
Wait for the good name of the Lord
Written by Stephanie Sophia
March 12, 2015
Monday, February 16, 2015
Three Couplets
Three couplets I wrote today (February 16, 2015):
One:
In solving a riddle, this you may find:
How to be still, should you be so inclined.
Two:
A pictured beauty forever unknown.
For out of the window, I shall not be thrown.
Three:
Your word given as a sure token, yes.
But I could not foresee the brokenness.
Edit:
Here's two more. The last one's dedicated to my quadmates, though I haven't had the chance to use it yet:
I am at home with four people today.
I counted myself as the fourth, OK?
Will one or both of you go for a walk?
I promise this time there won't be a fox.
Stephanie Sophia
One:
In solving a riddle, this you may find:
How to be still, should you be so inclined.
Two:
A pictured beauty forever unknown.
For out of the window, I shall not be thrown.
Three:
Your word given as a sure token, yes.
But I could not foresee the brokenness.
Edit:
Here's two more. The last one's dedicated to my quadmates, though I haven't had the chance to use it yet:
I am at home with four people today.
I counted myself as the fourth, OK?
Will one or both of you go for a walk?
I promise this time there won't be a fox.
Stephanie Sophia
Monday, February 9, 2015
I am the Sea // Un Jeu du Patience
I write to keep a distance,
If I write in poetry.
But I recognize that I am
the only one with my exact story,
with my exact struggles,
with my exact eyes.
It may be the only one
I know enough to write.
So rather than taking my pen to escape,
I think I’ll use it to paint.
According to some physical law,
the more space, the less time;
the more time, the less space;
and time is relative.
I am relatively content that
My time in this space
Comes to its close.
People have been my puzzle;
Myself a piece and a puzzle within -
I prefer the French term: Casse-tête.
But unlike a hobby,
I can’t break for a week,
or even a day.
The best I can do is just get by myself.
I tell myself I will be content.
“I commit myself to contentment.”
But it’s a most difficult commitment,
When my cortisol rises.
“I will not run;
I will not rage.”
Still -
still,
still,
still...
It gets restless in here.
What do you expect of me?
I would hope for you to find refreshment here,
Rather than a murky March mess.
Oh, what do you see in me?
Am I a prism?
Or a plain glass pane?
I hope you see me -
But if you don’t, I will show you.
A dance between guilt and gospel,
A dance between together and solitude,
Between today and tomorrow,
Between fullness and brokenness,
Between discontent and self-control,
Between song and quiet,
Between together and near insanity.
Between you and me -
I love you.
And I hope you can accept that I am the sea.
For you are my peace.
Written by Stephanie Sophia
February 9, 2015
If I write in poetry.
But I recognize that I am
the only one with my exact story,
with my exact struggles,
with my exact eyes.
It may be the only one
I know enough to write.
So rather than taking my pen to escape,
I think I’ll use it to paint.
According to some physical law,
the more space, the less time;
the more time, the less space;
and time is relative.
I am relatively content that
My time in this space
Comes to its close.
People have been my puzzle;
Myself a piece and a puzzle within -
I prefer the French term: Casse-tête.
But unlike a hobby,
I can’t break for a week,
or even a day.
The best I can do is just get by myself.
I tell myself I will be content.
“I commit myself to contentment.”
But it’s a most difficult commitment,
When my cortisol rises.
“I will not run;
I will not rage.”
Still -
still,
still,
still...
It gets restless in here.
What do you expect of me?
I would hope for you to find refreshment here,
Rather than a murky March mess.
Oh, what do you see in me?
Am I a prism?
Or a plain glass pane?
I hope you see me -
But if you don’t, I will show you.
A dance between guilt and gospel,
A dance between together and solitude,
Between today and tomorrow,
Between fullness and brokenness,
Between discontent and self-control,
Between song and quiet,
Between together and near insanity.
Between you and me -
I love you.
And I hope you can accept that I am the sea.
For you are my peace.
Written by Stephanie Sophia
February 9, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Reflections on Mission Blue
How many cans of tuna do they have to sell?
How many fish do they have to catch?
Does the ocean die we eat -
And will we bear the consequences?
Just take a look, now. Take a look, now.
Do the ethics get swept over
In the frenzy of our busy lives?
These fish cost less than a dollar,
And yet they come from Thailand.
How do we do it? How do we do it?
Will we steward what we’ve been given?
The earth is a gift given of the Lord,
The ocean also is ours to guard.
Will we treasure the beauty of it all?
Will we do it? Will we do it?
Written by Stephanie Sophia
January 25, 2015
How many fish do they have to catch?
Does the ocean die we eat -
And will we bear the consequences?
Just take a look, now. Take a look, now.
Do the ethics get swept over
In the frenzy of our busy lives?
These fish cost less than a dollar,
And yet they come from Thailand.
How do we do it? How do we do it?
Will we steward what we’ve been given?
The earth is a gift given of the Lord,
The ocean also is ours to guard.
Will we treasure the beauty of it all?
Will we do it? Will we do it?
Written by Stephanie Sophia
January 25, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
Blue Canopy - January 16, 2015
.JPG)
I am afraid of graduating.
I am afraid to leave Caronport; I am afraid to leave Moose Jaw.
I am afraid to be close with others.
I am afraid to move to a place and join a team that’s not transient.
I am afraid of commitment.
I am afraid of being known.
I want to be known.
I am afraid of not being known.
I am afraid to love Nancy.
I am afraid to say good-bye.
What am I so afraid of?
I am afraid to be vulnerable.
Why am I afraid to let my guard down?
Why do I need to be so busy?
Why do I feel that every hour needs to be filled with something deep and uber meaningful?
Why can’t I be satisfied?
Am I afraid to be bored?
I would like to be bored. I would like to bored and do nothing.
I would like to have someone to be bored and do nothing with.
I don’t want to discuss philosophy, the Bible, or theology.
I just want to rest.
I don’t want the pressure of having to be good.
I don’t want the pressure of having to be smart.
I don’t want the pressure of having to feel like I have it all together, everything figured out.
I do feel like a lot of things are really lining up, though.
And while I don’t see that changing any time soon, if everyone can look at me and think that I have it all together - not that I do, but sometimes I feel like I might even be able to convince myself - even if the whole world sees me one way, I hope that I can have a friend that I can be bored with.
And in that moment of being bored, I want to let the guards down.
My guards. Not anybody else’s. My guards.
I want to know that it’s OK to be a mess,
by having someone else affirm it for me.
I want to be with someone with whom I can be and just be.
I guess that’s it.
I guess that’s the kind of friend I hope for in Nancy.
I don’t think that’s fair to either of us.
I don’t want to care to impress anyone any more.
I just don’t know how to change that.
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