Archives for May 2018

Have you seen whats become of the arts? Particularly dance. Have you noticed how virtuosity has become more important than the message? And the message has often been forced to echo popular discourse? There is little room for divergence these days.

The artist, the sensitive one, has at least two major functions in society. One is to reflect current culture. The other is to imagine a potential future. While most of us are laboring at work and in family to survive, the artist is observing, so as to share insight. They have to. It is how they were made. They see things others miss. They accumulate these observations and feel compelled to share them. Whether explicitly or abstractly the observations must be shared. The holding of them is unhealthy. The purpose of the sharing is the key question.

Artists who have recognized this role are not sharing for the purpose of earning money, or garnering fame. Both distort the message and the mission. No, they share because their message has the potential to change the world. And that is their mission.

There is a time for saying what is needed to say right now, and there is a time for saying what has always been said. There is a time for searching the annals of history for timeless truths, and there is a time for speaking specifically to the situation you’re in with the one person directly in front of you.

Do both.

For the truth of the ages is good regardless of the era and will inform the needs of the present, and the needs of the present will ultimately point towards the truth of the ages, bringing life to the lifeless, awaking the sleeping, bringing sight to the blind, and hearing to the deaf.

Picture this. An artist is gifted with a particular set of skills, insights, and approaches. They put to work allowing those gifts to be pressed through a particular form (music, dance, visual, etc). Their particular combination of gifts and work contributes to the tradition of whatever form they have pursued. Then they enter the world of commerce. And their gifts are pressed into another pursuit, engaging an audience, finding a novel sales pitch, earning a living, and ultimately our artist reaches a choice. Either continue on the path of contributing to the tradition from which they now come, or break under the pressures of the market and just do what the market wants.

This is not restricted to artists. Every person is part of a tradition that comes from a culture that has a set of values, and those very values are what is so often pressured in the market. The choices aren’t always black and white. Sometimes it’s a spectrum. But at the end of the day, the simplest way I’ve found to look at things is this.

How is the choice I’m about to make an expression of what I value most?

In a world of media there are bound to be mistakes. In a world of growth, especially in front of the public, there are going to be mistakes. But I believe that there will come a time that I will have to account for every idle word that comes from my mouth. And why not hold oneself to a “high” standard? After all, the kids are watching, and learning, and emulating, and I don’t want to be the one that leads them down the wrong path.

So here is a correction as of late.

Stories are important. Every last one of them. The accumulation of all the stories will help uncover the complete truth. But we should be careful in hearing the stories. We should discern the difference between statements of what happened and statements of how what happened made us feel. Our feelings frame our stories, but in passing on the story, restating simply what happened is enough. The story can speak for itself.

I like the Hebrew definition of the heart. It isn’t the western seat of romance, but rather the center of the human being. The seat of their intention, focus, and soul. In this definition the idea of a singular heart becomes clear and powerful.

I cannot count how many times I’ve become turned around, discombobulated, and at a loss. It happens quickly, and the return to peace occurs quickly. Thank God for quick recoveries. It wasn’t always this way.

This is what I’ve learned. I used to get turned around when too many responsibilities came due at the same time. I used to get discombobulated when I couldn’t prioritize them. I used to feel at a loss when, in those moments, I couldn’t find a way back to peace. I needed a singular focus to remain at peace. I needed one reason for doing the work, for taking the rest, for turning away from confusion, for stepping through confusion to clarify.

There can be one purpose. Love, that is born of truth, and serves to bring justice and peace to the world. All things good flow from it. If that Love doesn’t hold its rightful seat in my heart, I crumble. The work, the rest, everything becomes distorted. My sense of purpose slips away, and I feel the hedge of protection wither.

But with a singular heart, life flourishes. The purpose I’ve been given is clear regardless of the actual work I’m doing. I find myself knowing the time – whether to work, to rest, to feast, or to fast. Here’s the rub, if the heart is singular and the singularity is not Love, it is evil. And what evil could it be. Confusion is spread through lies, pain is cause through confusion, and hardened hearts are brought about through the endurance of pain. I pray that in my journey (often in public) I’ve haven’t been party to this.

If I have, it has been unknowingly or unwittingly. Message me for an explicit apology. It’s time to get things right. A singular heart fueled by Love, born of truth, in service of justice and peace, by the grace and mercy of God.

I was born in Canada to Lebanese parents, raised in a suburb of Washington DC, pursuing an art form steeped in African American culture. It’s a wonder I’ve grown up with any sense of a singular or complete cultural identity. In trying to reconcile who I was made to be with all the different people I was around I’ve come to this framework.

Cultures are expressions of values. The art that is created, the relational norms that are established, the way a group operates and expresses itself has a direct link to what that group cumulatively believes.

We often think of culture as language, food, art, etc., but what if we began to look at the roots of a given culture: the values. Does a particular people value competition or sharing? How does a people relate to nature? How do they deal with their need for food? How to they care for their elderly and children? Their choices in these (and other) matters are guided by a matrix of priorities, desires, and solving problems around restrictions.

So when I experience a culture shock in the areas of language, food, or art, I ask myself why. Why is what I’m experiencing so different from my norm? What can I learn about the people from this difference? Is there something deeper – trauma, pain, joy, Love – that can be recognized, explored, addressed. Only then am I engaged as an equal human, not simply a consumer. And only then will the conversations be rooted in the thing that truly matters: what it is that we believe.

We live in a world in which many believe walls to be an absolute evil. Yet we find fences everywhere. They keep animals from wandering, they mark territory, and they protect us from danger (I’m thinking of the fences on balconies).

Just because a fence exists doesn’t mean it can’t be crossed. It doesn’t mean that the fence can’t have open doors. The thing that may be bothering us are the ideas expressed in the building of the fence. The ideas of ownership, exclusivity, and fear, are not things we all accept as good.

Rather we would fight against the fence. The fence then becomes the symbol. We have been distracted. The fight has been moved. And while we fight over fences, ownership is consolidated, communities become more exclusive, and fear increases.

A simple slight of hand has caused us to lose sight. In our own sphere of influence how does ownership, exclusivity, and fear express themselves? How can each of change that? Maybe in time we’ll have a world in which the fences that were once built for a particular purpose become something new…maybe the canvas upon which community murals may be painted?