Taylor Swift and Time

So for a couple of reasons I've been listening to Taylor Swift's music a lot over the past few days. I love how she sings about her life so honestly. You can take whatever position on her and her music that you'd like to, and I'm not saying I'm her number one fan or anything. What I am saying...back to that. Every time I listen to her music it makes me want to write my own--about my own life, my own friends, my own feelings. And so I did :)
It's nothing stellar, and I doubt it will ever make it past my song/poems lyric book, but it helped me nonetheless. Writing and music are two therapeutic things, so why not combine them? I love it :D Even if no one will ever hear any of my songs or read any of my poems, they help me transform my thoughts into something akin to art, and provide for tons of entertainment and reflection when I read them later on down the road.

Anywho, unfortunately now is not an opportune time to be nostalgic and artsy, with the end of the semester--along with my dreaded five finals--rapidly approaching. In about 10 days, I'll be two hours from here, adjusting to living at home for the summer. Weird. Exciting and happy and weird.

Of course as the semester ends I begin to look back not only on this semester but also on my whole first year as a freshman in college. What an incredible journey it has been! But I promised myself I'd wait to write my "looking back" post until after finals, so I'll stick to that. I plan to write extensively on the subject in a couple of weeks. :)

So... take away message for you, reader? I suppose it would be one of two things: 1) Be inspired by others. Even if what you create is nothing to display, it might help you to make sense of what you're thinking and feeling. 2) Make time to look back. It can be so encouraging to see how far you've come, what God has done in your life, and what you've learned (whether through easy or difficult circumstances, it will still be valuable). :)
And now back to studying!

Caring, Rambling, and Reassurance

Before I resign myself to continuing my satire rough draft for English, which will probably be rather time-consuming, I'll chronicle a few of my recent thoughts here.
I think that my greatest strength is also my greatest weakness, in that when I care, I CARE. When I meet someone and become attached to them and begin a friendship with them, I don't just care halfway... Which is usually good. At the same time, I have to learn how to give them space. And while I'd like to think I've come light-years from where I was in middle school, or even last year, with maintaining this balance of loving like crazy and being patient and reasonable and rational and healthy at the same time, I know I'm not finished learning.
Some days the learning process is fun, even exciting, as I notice myself improving in different areas of relating to people. Other days, it's just annoying that I'm not perfect at it, yet, and far more annoying to realize that I never will be perfect at it. I've always been a bit of an oddball; introspection and analyzing the crap out of everything seem to come naturally to me. When I was in middle school and beginning to realize that I would never be the best at anything--someone was always smarter, faster, prettier, more fun, more skilled, more interesting, just plain better--I decided to rationalize in my head that this was okay. I decided I didn't have to be the best at any of the things that other people were so darned good at. At the end of the day, who really cares if you're a great athlete, great student, great looking, great at this or that, if you don't give back to others? You see, some of this is a bit rational. I took inventory and realized the one thing that I was fairly skilled at was talking to other people, helping them out when they had a problem, and caring for them when they needed to feel cared for. So I decided that would be my goal, my skill, my spiritual gift, my niche, my thing. I would be the best friend anyone could ever dream of, a better friend than anyone could ask for, I would love like nobody's business.
This is a super worthwhile pursuit, and on the surface and in those words, still pretty true of me. But this is different than those other things that people become good at and are admired for. Because with this thing, this goal of being the best friend ever, there are no record times to beat, there are no benchmarks to say who is better and who is best. And there shouldn't be, either. But it's something that is hard to measure. And it's also something I can't pursue just for my own sake. Because if I only want to be a great friend so that I can be called a great friend, then right then I have become NOT a great friend, by being selfish and putting myself first and missing the whole point. So this is tricky business.
It can't be this thing to be attained or achieved. Not anymore. It can still be my quest, but only for the sake of others, and for the sake of Christ.
And now we circle back around to where I began...caring deeply. There are things that, as a friend, even the bestest friend you've ever seen, I can't do for other people. There are hurts that only God can heal, there are thoughts that only He can see, there are songs of the heart that only He can understand...more than all of that, there are pasts that only He can know, and there are futures that only He can see, and there are present's where only He can be. I have to be okay with the fact that my love only goes so far. And then, the hardest part, I have to trust my God to take care of my friends. I have to trust that even though they are going through what seems like unending darkness, He is there, in all His brilliant light, watching and protecting and understanding and caring and loving and shining.

So I've rambled on for quite some time now, mostly about myself. But this is really about YOU. God LOVES you, more than you know, I promise. When I look at how much I love a friend, and sometimes that feels like a whole heck of a lot--I cry for them, I pray for them, and I can't imagine caring any more than I do--I can't help but have my mind blown by the fact that no matter how much I care, God cares infinitely more. That's a lot, times... times God. :) Which means that wherever you are, whatever you are going through, no matter what your past looks like, what your now feels like, and how scary or unclear your future may seem, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. You are loved. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, beyond a reason why. You're loved beyond my capability to love, beyond both of our understandings of love. And that should reassure us both. :)

PS- Listen to the song "Not Alone" by Red, and really soak in the lyrics.

Women, Water Painting, and Wonder

My weekend was amazing. I feel so incredibly blessed to be surrounded by such a great community! This weekend was women's weekend with the Navigators here at Penn State, and it was a super wonderful experience. :) I'm not sure that words can do justice to all the thoughts swirling in my head, but I'll do my best to place a snapshot on here. (Yes, that was a mixed metaphor, I use them often).
For the first time, that I can remember, this was a retreat at which a deep message about surrendering sin and brokenness to God was more encouraging than it was convicting for me. Yes, I was "convicted" of things, as should probably usually occur whenever I draw near to some One who is perfect. But my biggest, overwhelming feeling was not conviction, but rather encouragement. I felt full of hope, freedom, contentment, confidence, strength, and peace. Because while I have a long journey ahead in order to work through some things in my life, I have begun that journey. Surrendering to God is something I am working on, daily, and while I'm not perfect, I am beginning to learn how to let Him take it--let Him take me. And it's lovely.
The only times I ever really win are when I give up, when I look around and see that I can't fight all of the darkness in this world and realize that my only choice is surrender. But in surrender lies another choice--to whom, to what, will I surrender? There is more than one option here. I am choosing God. I am choosing to surrender to Him, so that this year will not be the year that I am finally put together and have everything under control, but that this year will be the year that I am finally learning to let God take it all, to live in His freedom and trust that He has a plan and HE really does have everything under control.
I know this sounds horribly optimistic, and it is. I know I'll still mess up, fall down, and fail disastrously before my time here on earth is up. But it's okay, it's all going to be okay. Because the God who can not be defeated by death, the God who could not be held captive by the grave, the God whose love is stronger than any force underneath, upon, or over the earth--that God!--is the One who desperately wants my heart. That just blows my mind. When I allow that to sink in, it makes me giddy. It makes the darkness seem laughable. It makes captivity appear the shadow that it really is. The world, more specifically Satan in the world, tries to shut out all of this light-bringing truth, this brilliant and unrelenting love that ushers in hope and freedom. Because the instant we let the light touch our hearts and embrace it, darkness has no place. We begin to really live. I'll bet Satan is terrified of me, and many others who experienced similar reminders this weekend, right now. :)
Ah, Light. You are so welcome to come illuminate my heart, my life. Facing and walking through the darkness is scary...and dealing with the things that hold me back from all the wonderfulness is anything but easy. But it's so worth it. I'm not alone, YOU'RE not alone, because we have each other and better yet we have Light Himself. There are so many thoughts I have from this weekend, but realize this:

Like in the water painting I attempted to create yesterday, above the rough sand, above the waves tossing to and fro, violently churning and overturning is something even more relentless--and that is Light. The Son continues to shine, spreading warmth, and with Him comes little birds of hope that never stop singing. So look, and listen, and breathe. And let the Light into your heart, let it bring hope and freedom and wonder. :)

Camp Rock, Psych Class, and a Wooden Bird

"This is real, this is me!"
Yes, that is a quote from the lyrics of a song from the first Camp Rock, and as they say, haters gon' hate. :P
It's sung rather well by Demi Lovato, of whom I am a loyal fan. The song talks about Mitchie discovering and defining who she is. She is addressing her self concept--which is what I will attempt to discuss here (not the self concept of the character Mitchie, but the idea of a self concept in general, that is).
In hopes of returning to reading for the subject which gave rise to these musings, I will attempt to keep this post short. (Famous last words.) Today in Psych class, my professor was lecturing on the concept of the self, and its relevance to personality. He made a few comments which struck me; although they are somewhat common sense, their implications can be profound.
The first was that within close personal relationships, our concept of our self is shaped and changed according to the characteristics of the other person in the relationship. In quantifiable terms, when some aspect of the other person is flashed across a screen, an aspect/characteristic of our friend which we do not share, we take a longer amount of time to respond to the word, saying that it does not describe us, then we do to respond to a trait that does not describe us or our friend. In other words--we are slower to differentiate whether the trait is us/not us when it describes someone we are close to. This implies that our concept of our self literally begins to become muddled with our concepts of those we are close to. In a previous post I referred to pieces of me that I feel I have "accrued" from friends, but I never considered that this was a measurable phenomenon. Apparently, it's scientifically proven that our friends impact how we think about ourselves. Go figure. And it stands to reason that the closer the relationship is, the more overlap appears on implicit and explicit measures of self. There are nearly countless sayings expanding on this general idea: "show me your friends and I'll show you your future," is the basic format. According to statistics, the highest predictor that someone will use drugs is that his/her friends use drugs. It's a common occurrence that friends who spend lots of time together not only grow closer to each other but also begin to talk, act, and think like each other. Our friends "rub off" on us. Scientifically speaking, our self concept begins to merge with our concept of our close friends, and over time and as the bond strengthens, we become more and more like our close friends. Fascinating. :)
The second was that a person's idea of self is a complex psychological idea. As my professor commented, every cell in your body today is different now than it was when you were ten. The things that you, specifically you, have lived through have affected the way you view the world and think about yourself. You're biologically and psychologically different, but there is still some sense of unity between your ten-year-old self, and your now self. There is some strong sense that it was you who went through those changes. Our autobiographical memory manifests itself around four years of age, so for most of your life you have had an actively changing concept of yourself.

"Who are you?" can seem like a simple question. But sometimes figuring out what makes you, you, is more complicated than it sounds. Most people freeze, or flounder at best, when asked, "Tell me something about yourself?" Even in ice breakers, we self-consciously weigh which information we should relay to the group, because we realize that it helps for others to pinpoint just who we are.

What really makes someone who he/she is?

At some level, behaviors indicate the type of person someone is. How people act tells us something about who they are. But that's just it...it only tells us something. People are so much more than what they do, or even how they see themselves. I'm not sure I can put into words, at least not succinctly, how I view a person's identity. People are not only what they do. People are not only how they feel. Who we are involves who we have been, who we are, and where we want to be. Our identity includes not only what we do and how we feel, but also what we want to do, plan to do, how we want to feel, and how we want to make others feel. And that list could keep on growing. [Prepare yourself for some spaghetti-brain-ness here.]
My own concept of myself is growing. I think college is a natural time for this, and it isn't a process I'm resisting (on most/good days). I'm asking myself the deep questions, and attempting to answer them in a satisfactory manner. Who am I? Am I who I want to be? Am I where I want to be, and headed where I want to go? If I'm not who I want to be, or not where I want to be, then what steps do I need to take to create change?
Defining, and redefining, myself is both ongoing and exciting. I like that I have a certain amount of control over who I am. I like that I'm not finished becoming me yet. There are some parts of me that will probably never change, including both strengths and weaknesses. There are some parts of me that I think are in the midst of change right now. At least I'm praying. :) And this change is truly a process--it lengthy and while it can involve effort, much of it does not. With God in the picture, more accurately, in my heart, sometimes all it takes to create change in me is to surrender to what He's doing in me. :)
I'll leave this longer-than-anticipated post with a small anecdote from a speaker I heard at Creation a few summers ago. Imagine that God is the Great Carpenter, and you are a piece of wood, destined to become a beautiful wooden bird. The Great Carpenter does not add to the wood, instead He begins with a shapeless block and slowly chips away the parts that aren't the bird. Let God remove the parts that aren't the bird. :)

So what do a Camp Rock song, Psych class lectures, and a wooden bird have in common? The idea of self, the concept of identity. It's complicated, and it changes, and only God can help us become who we are designed to be. The end. :)

Nicole Helbig and Reminiscence

     In naming this blog, it brought to mind a paper I wrote for an English class my junior year in high school. The assignment was fairly vague and informal--we were to choose a painting with which we identified in some way, and then write about it. We were to integrate details of the painting into our paper and communicate to a reader what we felt the message of the painting was for us personally. This is not, by far, the best specimen of my writing, and it could use some revision if I unearth the energy or need to revise it at some point. But for now, I'll share it "as is." I'll include a picture of the painting; feel free to take from it whichever message it seems to speak to you. I firmly believe that art of any form can speak volumes, and this is just one of many masterpieces that has influenced me.
     When I found this painting, I was going through a rough time. I was in the midst of a complicated conflict with my best friend--we were making each other miserable and tried in vain to settle on either a clear cause or easy solution. Besides that, I was juggling some difficult classes and the general weight of my impending decisions about my future, namely college and career choices. To add to those common stressors is the even more common phenomenon of simply being a moody high school student, with emotions so varied and so intense that at times I felt I was only along for the crazy ride. I still feel things deeply, but I feel I have mellowed out quite a bit, and can happily report that the majority of the time I feel collected, even content. I don't mean to jinx myself here, and I should insert a disclaimer that I am far from "put-together." I have serious growing left to do, am in the midst of redefining pieces of who I am and how I treat myself and other people, and still find myself struggling through dialectical tensions at times. (For those of you not hopelessly in love with interpersonal-communication-scholars terms, or just to clarify what I mean, dialectical tensions: the natural attempt to balance ideas/concepts that are opposite or complimentary, for instance autonomy and interdependence, intimacy and privacy, etc). I digress--for the most part I feel the roller coaster has settled down, changing tracks from the Great Bear to the Sidewinder, for all you who are Hershey-Park-happy. I am thrilled and inexplicably thankful that my above mentioned friend remains one of the few people on earth that I can and do count on to care about and for me unconditionally. As to my future plans, they are a bit like one of those fancy shower doors at the moment, where there is some semblance of clarity but really it is all blurred out. Weird analogy. I know what I want to do with my life, even if all the steps along the pathway are not yet clear. Everyday I am reassured that I made the right decision in which college to attend, and which major to pursue; I know so many cannot claim this confidence, and I realize how truly lucky I am!
     And now that I have successfully rambled on about my life, then and now, here's the paper and the painting:

"“Come to Me”

2009 Nicole Helbig
Acrylics on Canvas
120 x 100 cm
Painting of lady outstretched hand with canary bird.

The painting depicts a young girl seated on a small bench, surrounded by swirling hues of deep colors in shades of bright blues, deep purples and vibrant yellows. Upon first glance, the focal point of the painting seems to be the girl sitting on the bench. After examining the painting for a few more seconds, her outstretched arm and the bird grow in importance and become the real focus of the painting. The upper left hand corner's lighter shades of blue create a light mood, while the lower right hand corner's deep purple creates a slightly darker mood. The colors of the young girl contrast with those around her, suggesting that she is somehow apart from her surroundings.

    At first glance the girl seems downtrodden, neglected, and alone. Without the small bright yellow bird, this painting would be utterly depressing--the depiction of a plain, dejected young girl, collapsed in solitude amidst the swirling dark confusion surrounding her. Had the artist left the painting unfinished at that point, its tone and message would remain one of dejection. We all travel through those times when the world is "dark blue;" when we seem lost in the hues all around us, lacking the energy to get back up off of the wooden bench on which we fell. A contemporary song titled "Dark Blue" by Jack Mannequin well depicts the feeling I believe this painting initially evokes; "This flood (this flood) is slowly rising up swallowing the ground Beneath my feet, Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition so I'll swim (I'll swim) as the water rises up, the sun is sinking down And now all I can see are the planets in a row Suggesting it's best that I slow down." These lyrics seem to describe perfectly the swirling darkness at the feet of the young girl, the dark blue hues all around her. It is an entrapping mood--no pathways are shown leading away from this place, no sun is shown on the horizon.

    Besides the mood the girl seems to show, her appearance says even more. She is dressed plainly; her appearance is undone. Here, I begin to identify with her. This is the state in which I feel myself to be currently--a stripping away of much of what I thought I was, a reversion to the simplest part of me, a reliance on the most fundamental of the beliefs within me, a desperate return to my first love. First love, as in the One who offered to die for me, then did. The One who has never left me, nor forsaken me, no matter how forsaken the view from my wooden bench may seem. She appears to be left with nothing to offer, her arms are empty and she carries no luggage. My luggage may still be with me, but I feel my arms start to empty as I day by day give my all away. Maybe it isn't a bad thing to come empty handed to the light; while solemn or quiet, her face shows no tears. She is reserved, withdrawn, but still holding on. Some of my favorite lyrics from the song Therapy by Relient K show this seeming contradiction exists "Loneliness and solitude are two things not to get confused Cause I spend my solitude with you." She may be physically alone, weathered and exhausted, but she is not in despair. Her back is to the lighter blues; she faces the darkness at her feet. However, the light blues seem to be swirling in around her head, the brightness traveling to push out the deep purples. I may not be seeking out the sunshine, yet somehow it finds me. I am displaced but not alone, weathered but not destroyed, exhausted even as the light of life invades my scene. 

            A thin dress clothes the young girl. This dress is sort of whimsical, the fabric almost an unreal texture. She does not appear to be particularly warm or cold; the blue colors give off a cold feeling, but she doesn’t look uncomfortable due to the temperature. The dress is adequate—it is not enough to protect her, but neither does it add to her vulnerability. This dress may reflect her resources. She does not have excess, but she also is not in poverty. I connect with this reality; though I may think I am lacking what I need to make a difference in my color scheme, often what I need is right in front of me, unnoticed. Like the girl in the painting, I feel as though right now my “attire” is basic, yet sufficient. I have the care and abilities that I need to get through this life, maybe even make a lasting change, even though I may not see that clearly sometimes. My dress for this life is as colorful and yet as plain as hers; I am prepared even when I don’t feel as though I am.

The young girl is seated on a wooden bench--at first this merits almost no significance, seeming to be merely an artist’s attempt to frame the main subject. The contrasts of reddish orange and turquoise add to the feeling of balance created by the bench. Upon further observation, this bench is actually central to the painting’s meaning. While she faces darkness, she has not fallen to the ground. With no other inanimate subjects in the picture, this bench seems to be a place of refuge, holding her up even though she may not even notice it. I find that in those darkest times the wooden benches in my life are often overlooked. Only after the clouds pass do we realize what has been keeping us from hitting the ground all that time.

   The background involving the interesting colors and the moods and conclusions it implies are important, but not as important as the focal point of the painting. If the observer were to focus only on the surroundings, this painting would be discouraging. Perhaps one would assume that she has been rejected, and she is now left with naught but her sorrow. But a look beyond first impressions and facial expressions reveals the underlying hope that this painting tells of. If this painting were a song, the music would climax as it reached her outstretched hand and the bird suspended in flight nearby. Not only has the light found her, and me, but a messenger has been sent as well. For many years past, going back to the most ancient accounts, a bird was always symbolic of a message or sign. In the Bible when God sent Moses a sign for when to exit the ark onto dry land, He sent a dove. In later and such famous accounts as those of Emily Dickinson's poetry, a bird was associated with positive messages again; "Hope is the thing with feathers." The bird in this painting fits the generality--its presence seems to be the ray of hope amidst the darkest circumstances. There is much I do not understand about the way this world is colored...I have taken my brush and palette and tried in vain to cover over the undesirable shades. This painting reminds me that perhaps we are not capable of re-coloring our surroundings, but that those colors may indeed come to us. The small golden bird is in flight, and is in sharp contrast to the darkness below it, outshining even the lighter blues above and to the left of it. I identify most with this painting in this: her outstretched arm. Some days, I may be lost, confused, surrounded, and exhausted with no end in sight. Not every day in my life "dark blue," but when those times come, I identify with her hope. I raise my hand to the little bird and do my best not to lose sight of it until the light blues overpower the deep purples. For those times when I sink onto my wooden bench empty-handed and undone, the light and the hope never fail to find me and recolor my circumstances."

Cookie Crumbs, Clifford, and Children

I probably won't usually post twice in one day, but I feel the need to detox a bit before I begin cramming for exam at 9 AM tomorrow.
Tonight I got the privilege, once again, to babysit for my pastor and his wife's small group. The kids are adorable, and although I'm always exhausted by the end of the night, I love doing it. Each time I get to spend a few hours surrounded by a bunch of rambunctious little people and whichever one of my friends has volunteered him or herself as tribute that night ;)
These "little people" show me so much about life. They are still learning and growing in so many ways, but they also have a real handle on a few things that matter most. Like paying attention to people who mean a lot to you... one of the little boys in the group often begins his sentences with "Hey, I've gotta tell you something..." to make sure that you're paying attention. When I first met him he couldn't muster up a wave, but now he will talk my ear off. His brother, almost equally shy at the beginning, fought with him tonight to see who could talk over the other and command my attention. They were both so thrilled to inform me all about the ninja leggo universe, but what they were even more thrilled about was that they had me as a captive audience.
So many lessons about life come from spending time with these little guys. :)
I adore children. Some day, I can't wait to love my own. I'm glad that day isn't quite here yet, as I still have much learning to do myself, but I look forward to it. Maybe not six, haha.
Alas, time to get to studying. More thoughts to come at a later date.

Feathers and a Song

So, I've been considering starting a blog for a while now. I've sort of been using Facebook, but that subjects any and all of my "friends" to read my rambling thoughts, or at the very least it leaves a reminder of my thoughts on their newsfeed. This way, I'll have a space where only those that wish to read my rambles as I "air" them, will be able to do so.
That, and, it seems I'm ever becoming more and more like my dear friends (this is always the case when you draw close to people...more on that  subject later, perhaps), and a few of those dear friends blog.
I so enjoy reading their thoughts, perhaps someone will enjoy reading mine. Or should I say mayhaps? (Another piece of me accrued from a friend.)
If you've made it this far into this post, you will have by now realized that I employ grammar, at times spelling, punctuation, and syntax in whichever way pleases me best at the time. That is, when I am writing for me. Of course when I write assignments I'm a tad more anal. But for informal writing, I prefer informal rules--you've been forewarned. ;)
As I should be studying at the moment, I'm afraid I'll have to close soon. One last thing--my blog's title.
I often write because it helps me to breathe, it helps me to see, it helps to remind me of things like hope and faith, and it helps me to work through the thoughts that swirl around in my head like the sea on a windy day--intermixing and flowing in and out and back in again. It is to this end that I begin this blog. My title stems from what is possibly my most favorite poem of all time, by Emily Dickinson.
"Hope  
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me."

This metaphor was emblazoned upon my mind from the moment I first read it. Within this short poem is so much meaning, and maybe sometime I'll post my analysis. For now: Hope is like a little bird, beautiful and resilient and ever present. Feathers and a song. :)