Vol III: #54 Finding the Words

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For a while, I’ve sought the words to describe a feeling buried deep in my heart. And Monday, I found the words in Isaiah 8. My brain exploded with joy when I read the following:

Isaiah 8:12-14

For thus the Lord spoke to me with mighty power and instructed me not to walk in the way of this people, saying,

“You are not to say, ‘It is a conspiracy!’

In regard to all that this people call a conspiracy,

And you are not to fear what they fear or be in dread of it.

It is the Lord of hosts whom you should regard as holy.

And He shall be your fear,

And He shall be your dread.

Then He shall become a sanctuary.

Read these words one more time: YOU ARE NOT TO FEAR WHAT THEY FEAR OR BE IN DREAD OF IT. This command is from the Lord to Isaiah and it needs to be tattooed on every handwringing-Christian’s face. And every one of us needs it tattooed on our heart. I’m tired of listening to preachers and Facebook experts complain and sow fear in the church. So what if they take my job(current situation for me), or force a vaccine, or “steal” an election. In who is your faith? Judging by the last six years, it’s elections and “American ideals.” We are meant to rise above this age and culture. And we can’t do that when we engage the cycles of fear and division. What can they do to us, really? Greater is He in us than what’s in them.

(BTW, I strongly encourage every Christian to read the Bible from cover to cover. Every chapter and verse. It is illuminating and special, though some parts are rather droll or awkward. It’s worth it.)

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Vol III: #53 Scraping Travel Plans

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I woke up last week with a peaceful notion in my head and a bit of disappointment in my heart. “I’ve got to cancel my travel plans for 2023. All of them.” The thought is peaceful because my brain is now freed from the task of planning and financing my trips. And though my heart wanted to visit new places and hug old friends, I know the wise thing is to sit home for the year. Stillness has its benefits.

On the other hand, and as much as I appreciate Redding, the idea of a ‘still’ season is unappealing. The summers in particular are hot and empty. The city empties of people and life grinds to a halt under the relentless sunshine. Most locals spend the season indoors or on a lake and all the college students return home. And anyone with an extra dollar will vacation on the coast or LA. Fortunately, spring and fall are lovely which means my task will be to find a way through the that long summer stretch that lasting from June til early September. I

’ll have to a have a plan, suppose I’ll get out to hike more and maybe camp for a night or two. I’d rather be outside as it is. My scraped plans are a disappointment, but it opens new doors to explore more of the California mountains, forests, and beaches. Not a bad concession if you ask me. Not bad at all.

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Vol III: #52 Two-Minutes

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I have, for all my life, believed change was hard- especially lifestyle changes or career shifts. Every failed diet and each broken venture was the evidence for my belief. Despite this over-arching belief, I found holes of success over the last few years. For example, I am a much more neat and clean person/housemate than ever. I make my bed, take out the trash, and clean the dishes because I like to have a made bed, an empty trash can, and clean dishes. But, of course, the best evidence I can make lasting/significant changes is this blog.

Still, the bigger changes have eluded me. Until now.

(I want to say before I continue, I’m not into self-help the way I once was. My goal is the follow the Lord and attack whatever He told me to do. Everything I do is in support of this perspective. If the Lord told me to be a teacher, I wouldn’t be writing this blog. Instead, I’d be in a class, on my way to a teacher’s certification. But the Lord told me to write and generally be the creative person He created me to be. So, I’m learning, the very hard way, how to be me.)

Until now, I didn’t know how to develop the type of work ethic required to be a successful writer and artist. What changed a very short video on how to develop new habits. It’s called the 2-minute rule, and it’s easy. The gist of it is, instead of trying to commit 30 minutes or an hour per day to a new habit, start with two minutes. That’s easy and everyone can do it. Once the basic habit is established, push it to three minutes and then four. The thing is, when you do a task everyday for two weeks, the task or project begins to feel like part of your life.

Two-minutes folks. Do anything for two minutes per day, for a month. Then see where you land.

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Vol III: #51 Twenty-Four Hours Later

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A few days ago I wrote about taking on the challenges of 2023, that I knew they’d be there, and I am prepared to ride through each rough patch with as much joy and dignity as possible. My words were confident bordering on cocky, but not cocky. I was happy with my declarations and use of new wisdom. And then, like a bad a novel, I awoke Tuesday morning with a snivel and a cough. The irony isn’t lost on me. I said I was ready for the challenges of 2023 and then they showed up the next morning.

The hardest part of my COVID experience is how annoying it is. I’m tired, but not exhausted. I’m had worse colds and flus. And for brief moments everyday I felt well enough to work. Isn’t that life? Oh well. LOL.

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Vol III: #50 Back At It, in 2023

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I’m amazed by this blog, not because it’s a bastion of poetic words or interesting subjects. Rather, I’m impressed it still exists. Of all the projects and endeavors in my life(aside from relationships) this blog is the longest running venture in my life. I should add this blog is the longest running voluntary venture, in my life. I once worked for a pizza shop called Wolfman Pizza for roughly three years, and I finished my bachelor’s degree in three and half years. One could argue those were voluntary too, but I won’t. My point remains, Fearless Grit is a joy to maintain and I’ll keep entries until I’m dead.

In related news, I spent the last two weeks away from blogs and novels and sculptures. And, I hated it. For once in my life, I missed my life.

The break gave me a chance to look head to 2023 and ask “what do I want for this year? what do I want to get done?” And for once, I don’t have any fantasies about the coming year. I see work and more work. What I really want to finish my novel, sculpture, and lose weight. The thing is, I don’t know what disappointments 2023 holds and I don’t care. Some day soon, when it’s inconvenient and unwelcome, something will go wrong. It’ll be an unforeseen car repair, a tragic text, and loads of hurt feelings and invisible offenses. The reasons to quit or stop will mount. But, I won’t quit.

Back at it, till the end.

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Vol III: #49 Working For Walmart

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I finally found dependable employment, at Walmart of all places. Last week, I started as an independent delivery driver and I couldn’t be happier to do so. It’s a job that pays well enough while offering the freedom I need. And, should a sweet marketing gig come along, I can work that too. Life is good. I mean that. Yes, like most people, I’d like to possess more money. But, so what? I’d rather have extra time and freedom.

As for the job, the requirements couldn’t be easier. I’m paid to shop for a customer and deliver the order to their home or office. Or, I’m paid to deliver a pre-sorted order. The biggest hassle is Walmart itself. Items are often missing or on the wrong isle or bin, and the pre-sorted orders take too long to fill. I try to select only shop and deliver orders because I can complete two trips in the time it takes a Walmart employee to fill one order. (Talk about a case study of employee behavior i.e. paid by the hour vs. paid by the job. The hourly employees are slow and dull.) All things considered, it’s a good gig and I hope I can keep going as long I need it.

Aside from the work, I’ve enjoyed observing the buzz and culture around a Walmart. Most employees and customers tend have a shameful way about them, shoulders slumped and eyes down. Few move with purpose or sense of urgency. The employees are hard-working people and there’s no shame in putting in a day’s work. It’s unfortunate we see minimum wage work as shameful or low-class. For my part, I try to smile and say thank you whenever interacting with an employee. A few responded well and I look forward to being a light where I am planted.

The other interesting aspect is the independent driver culture. I’ve yet to have a meaningful interaction with a fellow driver, but I watch them talk in the parking lot between deliveries. Mostly, they seem to complain about Walmart or the app we use to complete orders. Neither conversation interests me, so I spend my down time making sketches, reading, or journaling. (I do not expect Walmart to be a well run machine. It never is. My goal is to game the system. I have my job and it’s up to me to maximize my earnings.) One fun aspect of the culture is how driver navigate the lack of regulations on how a delivery is made or completed. What I mean by this is some drivers have a partner or spouse with them and they work as a team. One lady totes her baby through the store as she looks for items on her list. And, a few drivers have dogs with them. What a time to be a live.

And there we all are, living our lives, brought together by the cheapest retailer in the world. I’m genuinely stoked to be a part of it.

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Vol III: #48 Greatest Hopes

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It’s just easier to hold onto grief and offenses, isn’t it? The pain enables a twisted sense of power or entitlement. And, our pride makes excuses for a lesser version of ourselves. My pain is their fault. They owe me. I’ve had a bad day so I can’t be a dick to everyone. Yes, I’d say it is easier to be hurt and scared and to act hurt and scared. But, I also believe offense and pride are habits as breakable as any habit is. Redemption and love are real. Patience and restoration is real, for those who choose to walk it out. And, hope is eternal.

The most salient example in my life is a last lingering question I have for my ex-girlfriend. It’s a question I never asked, and I know the answer will provide no relief. I’m literally holding onto a fear by keeping the question locked in my heart. How? Or why, you might ask? Simply, I’m holding onto that failure/disappointment as a reason to keep from dating anyone new. The thought of dating a new woman triggers my gage reflex, and my mind runs to one horrid outcome, “when will she decide I’m not the guy.” And make no mistake, I feel extremely justified in my fears. Stupid bitches.

What is really happening is my fear is winning, a move to protect my soul. Self-protection is noble in the eyes of the fallen, but it’s not how the Kingdom works. I know I’ve got let my question go and choose hope. I owe myself and any date as much. But, the fear keeps whispering you’ll get hurt. And I must confess, it’s a powerful argument. My worst fears come from my greatest disappointments. But, my greatest disappointments reveal my greatest hopes and desires.

Here’s to letting go of the pain and learning to stand in hope in 2023.

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Vol III: #47 Did I, Grow Up?

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As you may know, or perhaps you don’t, I am writing a novel. The process is slow and I spend more time pondering the story than writing it. This is good, I’m told. (I heard a lifelong artist say “an artist should spend more time observing than creating. Then each brush stroke will be made with an educated purpose.” This approach is good for writing too.) And, I since I realized a novel is nothing more than collection of short stories with a common cast of characters organized around a central plot, I spend a considerable amount of time thinking about my characters and how they interact with one another.

Tuesday, I sat down to write a pivotal part of the novel’s climax, and…it sucked. Oh, it sucked bad. The crucial chain of events made little sense to the rest of the novel, and the plot holes were staggering. And the dialogue? It was eight grade school play awful. The shame of such bad writing and composition set in mere minutes after I finished composing it.

I spent the next 24 hours doubting my ability to write a novel worth reading, though I never thought of giving it up. Then, a Holy thought formed in my mind. Write down your fears/disappointments and start over. So, I grabbed my notebook and jotted down my thoughts on what I wrote. Afterward, I took my pen and slashed through eight pages of garbage, ready to start again.

Believe it or not, a moment like the one I had this week- some bad writing or a wrong brush stroke- has derailed me in the past. I have dozens of unfinished projects because I couldn’t handle my mistakes. My mistakes were seen as a judgement on my ability and talent. But you know? I’m learning. Bad writing is part of the process of becoming a good writer. And, I’m not done with my mistakes. Creative people must be able to work through bad choices and missteps. So, I must learn to keep moving/writing/sculpting. And, I think I have.

Feels good to grow up.

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Vol III: #46 What I Have To Say

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I saw a drug commercial today and it freaked me out. Why do they want to mess with the biology of children? One day we’ll look back at this era with shame for what we allowed them to do to our kids. And, say what you will to defend the American medical system, I think it is one of the most immoral and corrupt industries in the entire world. They make trillions- literal trillions- off making us sick or ashamed. Instead of healing our diseases, they simply want to help us manage them. And boy, do we have a lot of diseases.

But, I’m not here to rant about the Big Pharma or doctors. They are sinners who do not know what they do. Rather, I want to turn on the light.

The current state of the western world frightens me. I see a death culture shaded in Blue Donkey Left and/or Red Elephant Right. And, like so many, I feel drawn to “take a stand” or say something. So. I will:

The Lord is good and His love is eternal.

He holds us and guides us,

and takes away our shame.

We can hold our heads high and hope for the future because of Him.

Jesus died so we may live and every thing we do and every thing we say matters.

We are the light and salt,

Without us, the world is dark, bland, and voilent.

I will not seek answers from politicians or demand satisfaction from greedy men,

But I will love the orphaned and the broken.

I will wave to my neighbors and pick up trash left by the addicts.

I’ll pray for miracles and smile at the darkness,

for greater is He in me than this bullshit in the world.

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Vol III: #45 Big 2023 Project

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In August, my roommate finally agreed to take a day trip to the Northern California coast. (He’s lived in Redding since 2012 but had not yet made the trip.) We made stops in the redwoods and at a black sand beach. It was a glorious day. We spent the latter half of our time at the beach searching for colorful pebbles and small stones. The sea water made bands of color pop and shine. I felt a twinge in my brain, that old creative kick. I’d would use these stones for something though I didn’t know what. Or how. But, I began to fill up my pockets with these beauties with enthusiastic help from Ben.

When we got home, I washed the stones in the sink and dried them on an old towel. They were clean and ready for use, but their glory faded in our dry, dark apartment. So, for the last three months, my collection of stones sat on the kitchen table in an old Amazon box. I’d stare at them and wonder, but no inspiration came, no eureka moment or blast of wonder.

Then, a few weeks ago, I thought “I’m going to figure out how to use these,” grabbed my sketch pad and started drawing. At first I drew a few stones and then some waves. The motion of a wave wasn’t interesting. And how would I incorporate my stones into a wave? That’s when the I started to consider the life of my stones, where they came from, and how I would use them.

All stones were at one point part of a big rock or boulder or mountain. These beach stones are part of the erosion process, bigger rocks becomes smaller stones at the hands of the sea. It’s a process I love and see the glory of the Lord revealed. We tend to think of water as soft and thin. Rock is hard and stable. But, times tells us, eventually the waves win. The ocean will always subdue the land. And this is a picture of the Father love for us. Our hearts may be hard and resistant, but He is the deep, unfailing and constant.

My new project for 2023 will be massive waves crashing into rocks, made from wire and sea stones. The water will spiral up from the rocks, chards of stone flung in all directions. I want to exaggerate the relationship between the land and the water, and present what His love is. The project will have seven connected segments. And it’s going to take hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars to complete. The working title is Love vs Everything Else.

The thing is, unlike years past, I know I’ve got to complete this. 2023 will be a bust if I don’t. My work will always be about revealing the goodness and glory of the Lord through art and words. I have no higher goal or plan: this is what I’m called to do. I cleaned out the garage to create a studio, researched materials, and began to tinker with techniques. Soon, I’ll frame the individual pieces and work on how best to weave the wire to resemble rushing waves desperate to find the shore. Eventually, I will try to find buyers or a place to display the finished work. For now, I’m working everyday, on some aspect of the project. And I can’t wait to see the final form. It’s gonna be so good. I’ll probably cry.

(I’d like to thank Ben for going to the beach with me. And I hope he sees the good that comes from getting out of a comfort zone.)

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Vol III: #44 2023 Goal

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I’m tired and don’t have the energy to type something more eloquent than this:

My number one goal for 2023 is to kill my inner critic and judge. I’m so over my opinions and offenses. All of us are guilty and unworthy. All of us have been hurt and all of us have hurt people. And what’s the point of all our critiques and opinions? We aren’t happier or more satisfied. (Not to mention the people who game the system looking for errors or mistakes.)

I just want peace and joy. I don’t think those two fruits of the spirit are possible by stewing in offense and looking for flaws. So, among the desires I have for 2023, I hope I am a more peaceful and content person. And I know that won’t come by controlling my environment or getting everything I want.

Lord help.

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Vol III: #43 Honoring Parents

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“I just want to honor my father’s legacy,” quivered my foreign friend, his eyes a bit misty. How or why we found ourselves in a deep emotional conversation on a holiday didn’t matter. Thanksgiving Day is day of gratitude and nothing is more meaningful than when I a child looks at a parent- despite all their flaws, mistakes, and sins- and says “thank you.” Eliab’s father is near 80 year-old, and the days of offense are over.

In our age of outrage and offense, parents are the easiest targets. There’s no off-switch to a parent’s day. And, it’s why the command to honor them is crucial to life. When a parent has a weakness, we must endure it every day as child, be it a short-temper, a lack of physical affection, or using a shame as a motivator. In Eliab’s life, his father was demanding and stubborn. His father doesn’t support his life as a missionary and constantly asks when Eliab will move back to Brazil and run the family bakery. This lack of support would be cause for an Oprah Winfrey TV special for the average American, but not Eliab. Instead, he chooses to celebrate a man who taught him to work hard and build things that last.

May we all do that.

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