Ruth's Visions and Revisions

NOVEMBER'S END

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 13:58:00 +0000

Above my head a slate-blue sky

with a peach cauliflower of cloud

lying low on the horizon.

I stare at a glossy rectangle

showing a lone man silhouetted

against a flat, calm lake.

He is wearing a red T-shirt,

his arms hang limp at his side,

and shadow hides his face.

The photograph’s composition is poor,

and it lies not in an album but on an

expansive black driveway,

where it fluttered and landed

when the garbage was hauled to the curb.

Do I rescue him

even though I’ll never know his name?

As I lean over and peer at his likeness,

I cannot discern his expression

so I tug my dog’s leach, say the single word,

“Come,”

and continue toward my home.

Redefining my Vocation

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 15:03:00 +0000

I was struck by a stunning insight this morning that may completely redefine my sense of self and lay to rest one of my most exhausting mental struggles.

I have a vocation as a fiction writer. Of this I am certain. The call has been clear and continuous for more than 30 years, and when I stray from it, the Lord pointedly pulls me back.

And yet, I have had little success. Five published short stories. That's more than many people achieve but not what I'd hoped to accomplish. I can offer many rationalizations for the "poor" results. I have chosen intentionally to write what I'm passionate about, to explore the issues that matter to me, instead of to write for the market. Doing so has been more satisfying to my soul, but not so good for a career. While I've been writing to please my inner self, the industry has changed. More and more people are writing all the time, so the odds are something like 10,000 to 1 that a new writer will become published. For someone who deliberately bucks the marketing formulas, the odds are no doubt considerably higher.

And of course, there is the possibility that I'm just not good enough. I tend to think that isn't the case--partially because of feedback I've received on rejections and partially because I make my living as a writer quite successfully in a different field.

So I'm left with the conundrum: Why did God give me this vocation if I'm not to succeed or find the audience I crave?

I received a glimmer of a new answer this morning. I've been preparing myself to serve on a discernment committee for a dear friend who is considering becoming a deacon. For those of you not in the Episcopal or Catholic churches, a deacon is a person who is ordained to ministry but who also works at another job in the world. One of a deacon's functions is to help his or her bishop keep in touch with what's happening in the world.

Well, this morning, it suddenly occurred to me that my vocation may never have been to become a full-time professional fiction writer. Perhaps all this time, God has intended me to be a deacon writer--one who works at another job in the world, which then informs her vocation. Perhaps I'm not a case of chronically delayed success. Maybe I've been successfully living out my vocation all this time.

I've been asking God to resolve my vocational conundrum for a very long time. I'm going to have to mull over this new way of thinking for a while and see if it truly does answer my questions.

A Parable of Redistribution

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 03:51:00 +0000

Once upon a time, there was a great and powerful country. It was the most prosperous country of its time--in part because it was greatly blessed with resources and in part because its borders had natural defenses to the east and west. Then came a prediction of climate change and drought and economic ruin. The upper classes could have hoarded their resources to ensure their own survival. They could have congratulated themselves on their own responsibility and prudence, and let the less-fortunate die But that isn't what happened. A top advisor came up with a radical plan. The government confiscated all the food in the land and then redistributed it as there was need. And when hard times hit, everyone survived, even the despised lowest class and the foreigners who had fled to that land for safety.

Sounds uncomfortably socialistic, doesn't it? Does anyone recognize the origin of this parable?

It's the story of Joseph and how the plan that God gave him to implement saved both Egypt and the people of Israel. I've always said God is more of a socialist than a capitalist.

Michael has a website!

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sun, 10 Jun 2012 22:52:00 +0000

Check this out:

Reflected Life LLC

My God Is a Socialist

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 12:59:00 +0000

What would you call a system in which the ruling power decreed that no one could lose his land permanently and no one could amass huge estates? A system in which, if people fell into financial trouble, they could sell their land but only for the short term . . . because every 50th year, all such property returned to the families that originally owned it?

I think a lot of people today would label that as ungodly socialism and wealth redistribution, but that was the law God wanted the people of Israel to live under (Leviticus 25). It was probably never completely carried out, but it was the ideal held up in the Old Testament as the godly way for a nation to live.

And this doesn’t even take into account the way the early Church lived, sharing all things in common and selling their possessions to give to anyone who had need. (Acts 2)

So how can we believe that now God favors “wealth creation” and capitalism above all things? Has He changed his mind or his priorities?

We no longer live under religious rulers as the ancient Israelites did. Nor do most of us live in Christian communes. But we do live in a democracy in which we the people ARE the source of government power. So why doesn’t the government voted in by a “Christian nation” mirror the priorities shown in Leviticus 25 and Acts 2?

losing the Son of God

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 12:57:00 +0000

Today is the feast of St. Joseph, and this morning I was listening to an online meditation based on the story of Mary and Joseph having to go back to Jerusalem to find the missing 12-year-old Jesus. And the speaker asked us to consider us consider how Joseph felt in that situation.

Suddenly, I could just imagine the panic: "OH NO! I've lost the Son of God. Now, what am I going to do? How is God going to punish me for this mess-up?"

But of course, God had the situation covered all the time.

The thought made me laugh, and it also made me wonder whether a lot of my panic isn't just as silly. It's food for thought, isn't it?

King Robin

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 13:26:00 +0000

In early March,

three robins perch on

my backyard aspen,

their rusty breasts

afire in the setting sun,

and their piping birdcalls

sound a note of challenge

as they hop from branch to branch

jockeying for dominance.

Lenten Storm

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 15:53:00 +0000

LENTEN STORM

Wet, heavy, cold,
a self-imposed duty
weighs upon my body
like sodden, late-season snow
so I sit, bowed down and silent,
waiting for the sun's grace
to shine upon my weary limbs,
melt their accrued burdens,
and free me to dance
whenever the spirit blows.

The Purpose of Life

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 15:23:00 +0000

The other day I was in a Facebook chat with a friend, and the subject of the purpose of life came up. So I wrote this summary of what I believe for my friend. The conversation didn't go any further than that--she didn't want to discuss it anymore--but I still found it a valuable exercise, so I decided to post what I wrote here in my poor neglected blog. If anyone out there is still reading my posts, here in a nutshell is why I get up each morning.

I think the purpose of life is to be in relationship with God and, from being that relationship, to grow more and more like him—and in consequence, to become more and more the person I would have been if I had been born into a world without sin or hurt.

And by that seemingly simple summation, I understand a host of extraordinarily complex things.

First, here are a couple of things I do NOT mean.

I do not mean a legalistic code that I have to obey to please God or earn his love. The moral values I try to follow are the outgrowth of our relationship. I grow closer to him and my life becomes more whole when I do certain things, but the essence of his love for me would never change even if I walked away from all that I believe. Nothing I can do is able to alter my status as beloved child, but my actions and attitudes can affect the quality of my relationship with God, so I try to make choices to nurture our intimacy.

And I am not talking about a transactional faith. I hate the widespread prosperity gospel that teaches “If I give x amount of money or x amount of time to the church, then God will give me y number of blessings.” God is not Santa Claus, and Christianity is not a barter system.

Here is some of what I do mean:

First, the incarnation is a really big deal to me. It means every bit as much to me as the crucifixion and resurrection. We live in a sinful and damaged world, and I don’t expect God to fix every wrong in my life or always protect me from harm. But I do know that because the infinite, omnipotent God took the trouble to limit himself and live as a human, that he understands all my heartaches and that he walks with me or sits with me in all the experiences of life. Because he made the effort to put himself in my shoes, I trust that this is a real relationship.

One reason I keep trying to meditate or practice centering prayer is that it opens me to the Holy Spirit and helps me hear God. Most of the long-term changes I’ve made in my life have come about because of promptings I’ve received in prayer time, and most of them have taken a long step-by-step process to achieve, so I’ve needed to keep opening myself to God for strength and encouragement to persevere. This way of listening to God does more than just give me direction. It also gives the Holy Spirit access to my spirit so that she (the Holy Spirit) can change me—move me toward more health and strength and righteousness—ever so slowly and ever so gently. As an example, over a 15-year period, I gradually went from being someone who wanted the financial security of a marriage with two full-time wage earners, premium benefits, and retirement to someone who is willing to live with the constant insecurity of being two independent contractors because this is the best way for us to exercise our gifts. It requires a constant act of faith that we will be provided for, and it did not come naturally to me by any stretch of the imagination. It was a very gradual and difficult change prompted by internal leadings each step of the way.

I also believe in the transformational power of the sacraments. In our tradition, a sacrament is an outward, physical sign of an inward and invisible grace. When I was baptized, it was a visceral experience for me because it a physical reminder that I have been spiritually cleansed. (I was 9 or 10, so I remember it.) When I take communion, I do feel the presence of Jesus in the body and blood. For me it is a very intimate moment, the only way that humans can experience God in physical form. When I attend a wedding, by listening to the vows, I am internally renewing my vows to Michael. And I believe that every time I worship or attend to a sacramental act with an open spirit, I again allow the spirit of God to enter into me and to transform me.

Intimacy and transformation are really the keys to my personal theology and my belief in why I am here. What I seek from my relationship with God is healing for past hurts, exploration and exercise of the gifts he has given me, meaningful work to do in the world, and intellectual and spiritual growth. None of these things are necessary to make me acceptable to God, but they deepen my relationship with him and make me more Christlike little by little. It’s not about perfection. It’s about process. The process of becoming the most completely developed Ruth Hull Chatlien I can, given the amount of damage and limitation I started out with and the relatively short span of a human lifetime.

a strange story

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 16:41:00 +0000

I haven't mentioned it here because I don't really blog much anymore, but I have started writing a historical novel based on a real person's life. It's going very well, and I'm loving the process. Last week something unusual happened that felt almost like permission from the cosmos to do this.

We took a research trip to Baltimore, which is where my subject was from.My first full day there, I visited the grave of the woman whose life story I'm fictionalizing. It has a high marble slab with carved columns at each corner. Misty rain was falling, and giant crows hopped from gravestone to gravestone cawing. I was weeping. Then I found a violet blooming near her tomb. Decades ago, I wrote a poem that used a violet as a symbol in a way that eerily fits her life.

Not only that, but I've never been able to smell violets. It always disappointed me bitterly as a little girl. The one I picked last week had a powerful scent. After leaving the cemetery, we visited a historic home that had a piece of her furniture on display--a basin for personal hygiene. Later in the gift shop, I found and bought a box of violet-scented powder. When we got back to the inn, I googled her name and the word violet, and I discovered that the flower was associated with her husband's family.

Strange, n'est-ce pas?

November Portrait

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 01:04:00 +0000

No oil painting this month. I have a conflict next week, so I knew I was going to have only two Saturdays with this model. So I did charcoal instead.

October class portrait

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 22:53:00 +0000

September class portrait

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sun, 09 Oct 2011 13:09:00 +0000

The collar bones are too prominent on this, but other than that I'm happy with it

Fatal Impacts

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 13:51:00 +0000

I'm republishing this 9/11 poem, which I wrote in 2005.

FATAL IMPACTS

I. The Fireman
He never knows what wakes him—
the click of the furnace,
the dull scrape of a snowplow in the street,
his wife’s soft sigh—
but once awakened, he hears explosions,
the loud percussive impact of a body hitting street,
bursting in a wet and heavy instant
like a monstrous water balloon
or a dropped melon.

Like a repeating loop of newsreel,
he sees them jump from the towering pyre
and try to keep on running,
arms pumping, legs striding through the smoky sky
as they plummet to eternity.

And he who could not save them,
nor the comrades lost in the Twin Towers’ fall,
keeps faith by living with the burden of memory—
the smell of burning flesh and fuel
the acrid taste of powdered concrete—
and waits for it to crush him
so he can join the others.

II. The Trucker

The snores are loud in a tent of 40 men,
shaking him from sleep
just as the roar of jet engines
must have vibrated the tower windows
right before the impact.

Eighteen hours he drove that day,
hauling steak, detergent, and stacks of mail
to an army base near Fallujah.
As he returned,
a barefoot boy in dirty clothes,
scrambled over the gravel shoulder
and onto the single-lane highway.
The boy held out his hands before him
in the universal gesture for “Stop”
and squeezed shut his eyes.
Following orders,
the convoy neither slowed nor turned
but drove straight forward to avoid ambush.

His was the truck that hit the slender body,
the initial thud of impact
followed by a bump as he ran over a yielding mass,
each set of wheels encountering less and less of a barrier.
Now he lies on his cot, trying not to shudder,
and tells himself the boy would have grown to be a terrorist,
so that killing him was like squashing a baby scorpion.

Above the snores of his tent mates,
comes the high-pitched hum of an overworked heater.
And hearing its whine, he imagines
that somewhere in the desert,
a brother or uncle or cousin
wails over a broken body
and vows jihad.

some summer art

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 14:08:00 +0000

The More Things Change . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 21:36:00 +0000

Let's see. We have massive war-related debt. The wealthy refuse to make concessions or give up privileges. National leaders refuse to make needed reforms. We have vacillation, double dealing, secrecy, conspiracies. We have an ineffective legislative body. We have fear among the general populace.

Think I'm describing Washington? Nope. France in 1789, just before the Revolution.

Not a prediction. Just an observation.

Summer portrait

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sat, 23 Jul 2011 00:21:00 +0000

Just finished a weeklong portrait workshop: five days, 9 to 4 each day. Very intense but so worth it.

Potted Pansies

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 13:22:00 +0000

Did this one on my own outside of class. It's my seventh oil.

June portrait

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 19:56:00 +0000

Did this in class. It's my sixth oil painting and third portrait. Richard (my teacher) did some work on it, but not a lot.

The Economy in Two Minutes

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 14:16:00 +0000

I tried to write a post about this last Sunday, but this economist explains it so much better than I can.

Oil paintings 4 and 5

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 19:42:00 +0000

Both of these were done at home, on my own. I may still make some tweaks to the bottom painting. (Oops. I guess you have to click on the hands painting to see the whole thing because it's horizontal.)

May portrait

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Mon, 23 May 2011 00:05:00 +0000

This is the portrait I did in class this month. We don't meet Memorial Day weekend, so I'm done with this one. A new model in June and then a two-month break.

Haiku of the Incarnation

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 12:40:00 +0000

This Easter season I've been thinking about this haiku sequence I wrote a few years ago. So I decided to repost it.

Does Jesus ever

wax nostalgic for the taste

of a home-grown fig?

Does he talk about

campfire nights swapping tall tales

with the disciples?

In spring does he long

for the scent of the myrtle

trees on the hillside?

Can he still feel the

weight of a bone-tired body

sinking into bed?

Does he ever sit

and daydream about the days

when he was human?

Second oil painting

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 15:06:00 +0000

Did this one at home on my own. The photo cuts off the top a bit, but such is life.

First oil painting

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth Hull Chatlien) — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 14:55:00 +0000

This is incomplete and doomed to remain that way because our model could not complete the month. But still, it shows my first attempt at oil painting. In honesty, I just say that my teacher did a lot of work around the eye and the hair.