The most recent bit of writing I've done was today's children's storybook (12 panels) about HAT getting lost. My dear writing buddy remarks, "what a wonderful spiritual journey." Really? Thank you, dear J, because if you hadn't said that, it would have looked woefully like a pitiful little scrap of writing, squeezed onto the page out of desperation.
So, that was the whining part. Here, now, begins the part where I pretend there was some meaning to what I was writing:
The children's story that I wrote is a mix of "Where the Wild Things Are", "Peter Rabbit", and the biblical narrative of the five loaves and two fish. The story elements: a character who is lost, a family unit, a search/journey, signs/symbols, and a happy love-feast. Perhaps you're thinking I intentionally plagiarized parts of these three narratives and spliced them into my own story. You give me too much credit. If I were smarter, I might have thought of that. Truth is, I was only thinking of the simplest story to write and of the kinds of pictures I could draw to fill up the 12 panels of the storybook.
Although I've been mulling over this storyline for several weeks now (for as long as I've been carrying the booklet around in my purse), I only finished it today at our writing session. Mostly b/c I have fiendishly, delightfully, talented writing partners who inspire me to write, write, and write. ("No rough drafts!" said J.)
I also did not think of any significance to the story that I wrote. Until now. For the past week, thanks to our Bible study group, I've been pondering the practice of feeding my deepest hunger. That presumes I know and recognize my deepest hunger in all its manifestations. (No, no, it's not chocolate or ice cream.)
The questions we pondered in last week's session: What are your deepest hungers? Beneath your immediate goals and obligations, what do you really hunger for? What do you seek most ardently?
The story that I penned might very well be a poorly crafted (and badly illustrated) children's story, but the elements within the story are symbolic of the things I am searching for. I think.
Perhaps my subconscious was thinking of all these things and I was not naming them proper until I wrote the story. I look back on these storybook panels and I see what I am missing. It is easier and sounds better if I were to say my deepest hunger is to transform the world with my presence, or, to embody God-spirit in the world. But those are beautiful words and concepts. Very difficult to actualize.
My hungers are more visceral, perhaps? More concrete? My self-centered? My search takes me to the space of grieving -- that place where the rich, young ruler (from Mark 10) is surely familiar with. Sadly, it is a space focused (too much, only) on the self.
Perhaps that is why the whole story begins with a search. I need to start a journey. Having lived 1/3 of my life, I realize I'm still that little girl-character totally lost "on the day the sun and moon stood still."
Do any of your hungers surprise you? Are there any hungers that God may have planted in you to help you awaken and focus your energy in a more life-giving direction? Do you believe that God seeks us as we seek God? Is it possible that God is trying to get your attention? - Jeremy Langford, Seeds of Faith
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