A few more photos from last night’s sunset… can you find the man with the paddle board?
Labels I can’t embrace…
“What type of music do you play?”
The question totally takes me by surprise, and the gentleman mistakes my dumbfounded expression as a sign of irritation.
“Sorry, I’m just curious. I saw that you’re a musician. What type of music do you play?”
“Uh, I’m not a musician… I just… ” I stammer for an appropriate response. No one has ever called me a musician, and I would never dare to label myself as such.
“But you’re traveling with a guitar. Is it yours?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s mine, but I’m not a…” My attempt at an explanation was quickly thwarted.
“So you ARE a musician. What do you play?”
He had already decided that I was in fact a musician, and there was no sense arguing with him. Completely uncomfortable with the label, I opt to answer his question.
“I play mostly indie rock and worship music. It’s just a hobby, but I didn’t want to leave my guitar at home for the summer…” The airline safety demonstration concludes our conversation as abruptly as it began, and I sigh knowing the next six hours will be spent wondering whether the man sitting behind me thinks I am something I am not.
——-
“It’s always refreshing to see another artist traveling. Where are you headed?”
“I’m sorry, come again?” She really didn’t just say what I think she said, did she?
“Sorry, I just saw your sketchpad and supplies in your bag. It’s always refreshing to see another artist in the airport. Anyone who carries supplies in their carry-on is someone worth saying hello to, right?”
Baffled by the second misdirected assumption based on my luggage, I try to explain: “I’m not an artist. I just happen to carry supplies with me so that I can sketch people in airports while I’m traveling.”
“Me too! I totally get that. I didn’t assume it was your profession. I just like talking with other artists. So, what is your favorite media?”
“Colored pencil. Pen. Pastels. Graphite. I love to sketch, but I’m really not an artist. I simply dabble in art.”
Taking the social cues that I didn’t want to talk about it. The young hipster strolled away, probably to sketch some clueless old man in the food court.
————-
“Can I ask you a question? What are you working on? You’ve been typing for a while, but you seem to be enjoying it. Is it for work or school?”
Why do people keep asking me questions? “ Neither. It’s just a draft of a blog post.
“Ohh! You’re a writer. What do you write about?”
Finally, a label I one day hope to embrace! “I’m not a writer. I just happen to keep a blog. I write about life, faith, and random things I find interesting.”
“Sounds interesting. How long have you been doing that?”
“About five years or so.”
“Sounds like you should be a writer. Have you considered that?”
Yes, of course, I’ve considered it. I just… ugh… I just want people to stop talking to me in airports.
———
Fast-forward a week.
“Hiya! Care to come in for a drink this afternoon?”
“No thanks. I’m need to go get a few things done before work this evening.”
“Where you working?” She glances at the camera around in my hand. “Are you a photographer??”
“No. I’m not a photographer. I’m volunteering with a Christian charity in the West End.” I explain what we do, and then apologize that I have to go. I tell her that I really want to edit some of my photos before heading off to take pictures at sunset.
“So you are a photographer? What do you…?”
Really!? Why does this keep happening to me? * facepalm *
——
The facts are: I travel with two pieces of baggage wherever I go- a guitar case and a backpack containing my camera, my art supplies, my computer, and a notebook.
I’ve spent every moment of my spare time this week playing music, drawing, writing, and learning to take better photos.
Perhaps I’m misleading people… or perhaps I’m simply misleading myself.
Why is it so irritating when people label you the things that you aren’t but you secretly wish you were?
So maybe I am… and if I said it and believed it, how would that change my life?
——
Here’s a photo from sunset:
We’ll all be forgotten, so why not disappear now?
If I disappeared tomorrow, I would quickly fade from memory. This is the most freeing and depressing fact in the world. I’m not evaluating the meaning of existence, but rather simply stating the reality of the human condition. We live, we die, and we’re forgotten.
Or quite possibly, we’re forgotten, we continue living, and then we die. And, given my current circumstances, it would be easy to disappear tomorrow without my absence raising any immediate concerns. I’m one decision away from living off the grid and embracing a lifetime of obscurity.
No one would lose sleep worrying about whether I’m eating, resting, or living up to my potential. I’m known for unsolicited updates: I’ll call when I have news, text random things of interest, and maybe even email a prayer request. And, since it’s generally expected that I’ll initiate communication when I’m ready, a sudden withdraw would go virtually unnoticed.
My friends would assume I’m on a productive sabbatical. My family wouldn’t take note of my disappearance until the holidays. The Christian community would dismiss me as another wayward congregant. I could easily disconnect, embracing the freedom to do whatever I want without any restrictions.
——
I could easily be another set of eyes you avoid on your morning commute. The cardboard sign and paper cup you scoff at, my livelihood. The dimly lit street corner you avoid after sunset, my territory. My body, another commodity- leveraged for a few dollars to gain a grip on my bootstraps. I could very well be another nameless face in the gutter, who you saunter by without ever batting an eye.
Not understanding the signficance…
They were afraid.
With the wind and waves crashing against the boat, every stroke of the oar must have seemed like an eternity. How long would they have to paddle? How fierce would the storm become? I wonder what thoughts ran through their heads as they struggled to cross the lake.
But, Jesus saw their struggle. He knew they were having difficulties, and so He set off to help. His intentions were to walk past the boat, but they noticed him. And, were terrified.
Of course they were scared! They are in the middle of rough waters, trying to push through.. and here comes a figure walking across the sea like a ghost. I’d be scared too!! The only appropriate response is fear, right?
What if you had seen a miracle just hours before? If you had just seen 5 loaves and 2 fish feed over 5,000 people with leftovers, is fear still an appropriate response?
But Jesus spoke to them at once. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Take courage! I am here!” Then he climbed into the boat, and the wind stopped. They were totally amazed,for they still didn’t understand the significance of the miracle of the loaves. Their hearts were too hard to take it in. [Mark 6:50-52, NLT]
He just stopped a flippin’ storm! Of course they are amazed! Why wouldn’t they be? Normal people don’t have control over the weather. But, given their proximity and personal relationship with Jesus, should they have be amazed?
