current petition related to last post

Change.org|Start an Online Petition

Click the link above to sign this current petition to alert the House of Representatives and the Senate to the importance of stopping systemic pesticides used on crops and bees.

Thanks for helping us save the world :)
Elise

give me honey from the bees...

I have just finished watching the documentary "Vanishing of the Bees" which discusses the rapidly decreasing bee population due to "Collapse Colony Disorder." The tag line is: a film for anyone who likes to eat. I couldn't agree more!

I have never been more frustrated with our country's government's approach to farming, use of pesticides, misuse of research, and general lack of forethought. Yes, the beekeeping industry has a bias with this film: have better practices, stop killing our bees. Else, we might not have food in 10 years. Seems fair enough.

The film was both foreboding and optimistic. In summary, if we don't stop the use of pesticides until further non-biased research is done, the bee population will die and so will our access to fruits and vegetables (bees are the primary pollinator of crops). However, the rise of organic, holistic farming is gaining traction, and it is possible that we the people of the United States of America could change the course of our future without Big (or in this case Wimpy Cowardly) Government stepping in.

What amazed me most about the film is that this problem was not discovered, or acted upon, in America. France has dealt with this ten years prior. Their cautionary government stopped the sale of the systemic pesticide Gaucho due to the voice of their beekeepers and citizens. The result? Bee populations in once toxic environments started to recover in a year. Wow. And we're not following suit because....?

....because the EPA can't "prove" anything. 1) stop paying the pesticide makers to do the research. 2) what kind of proof are you looking for? I enjoyed Michael Pollen's take on this. He says (and I paraphrase) that there are multiple kinds of "proof" out there other than proof from scientists in a lab. Try talking to the people who live day in and day out with these populations. How about looking historically as to the interpretation of bee behaviors. Yes, our society is more modern and more high tech, but it seems like all the progress in agriculture (machines, chemicals, etc) is starting to slow us down.

I should mention that pesticides were originally created from the same the chemicals used in chemical warfare. Not quite the reuse/recycle mentality we were hoping for, huh?

So there's my speech. Now I want to plant a huge garden and go live on a farm or at least volunteer with an organic community farm. Submitted: volunteer online form to Grow Pittsburgh.

image of God

I met with a girlfriend of mine this evening, and as you might expect the topic of body image came up. As a good Christian, I replied, "Well, we have to remember that we are made in the image of God." My friend most wisely responded, "Yeah, I've heard that before...but what exactly does that mean?" 

Umm.....good question. I have no idea. You know those phrases that you're just used to saying, but then you realize you can't explain it? Thus was this conversation. 

I reflected more on it upon returning home. I recalled my church's current Bible Study on the Book of James. James uses an analogy that Christians who read Scriptures and do not do what it says is equivalent to a man looking in a mirror and forgetting what he looks like. (James 1:22-25) I hope I am not taking it a step further out of context, but how many of us look into the mirror and see ourselves, created in God's image, and then look away and forget that we are His? 

I also searched an online concordance for verses talking about the image of God. The Bible says that our body is "being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator." (Colossians 3:9-11) I wonder if the "image of God" has less to do with the physical characteristics as the intrinsic qualities of a person. As we spend more and more time in our relationship with Christ, we will in turn reflect His image more.  It is at least something to chew on...

Our conversation made me think of a painting belonging to a friend of mine from college. She is a wonderful woman of God, and honestly I have been encouraged (and envious) of her passion and love of Jesus since I met her the first day of orientation. She is now a missionary (and mother!) in Japan with her husband, and I cannot help but know and rejoice that everyone she meets has seen the face of Christ in her reflection. This painting continues to encourage me to this day, reminding me of who I am in the Lord, my true image in Him. 

And if all this is true because itself is a reflection of the character of the Lord God Almighty, how could I not fall in love with Him? 

encourage each other

I'm reflecting on an interesting phenomenon in adulthood. There comes an age where we have the expectation that other adults around us should always know the "correct" thing to do. That we should not make mistakes, and if we do make mistakes, that is a sign of our ignorance or incapability. I find this strange. 

When a child is learning how to walk, the adults nearby are clapping, hooting, hollering with joy. If the child falls down, the adults gasp in horror. They sooth the child. They check for scraps or bruises. They cheer the child on to try again. Some may even have the child hold onto their fingers and walk with the child. This is a beautiful scenario. No one expects a child to immediately start walking without a hitch on the first try. And if you did voice that opinion, I assure you, you'd have every mother glaring at you with a glare only mothers can give. 

I feel like we lose this empathy and understanding with adults. When we see an adult take a new job, volunteer position, extra-curricular activity, do we assume that this person should just "walk" into the situation without fumbling or stumbling around a bit? Worse yet, do we wait for them to fall, and instead of gasping and giving them a helping hand, laugh to ourselves and then chatter about it with those around you? 

Brothers and sisters, I am speaking to myself as well. Let us come alongside those who are around us and ask how we can help. Show them the steps. Gasp when they fall. Check to see if they're hurt, and then help them to their feet to try again. Let us not engage in whispers of judgement, but instead shout encouragement loudly from the rooftops! 

Encourage one another as long as today is called "Today" so that your hearts do not become calloused. For as Maya Angelou said, "I did the best I could, and when I knew better, I did better."

the front porch project

ATTENTION ALL NEIGHBORS! It is time to stop living complacently in your house with air conditioning! Please use the front exit and sit on your porch! I see those empty porch swings, decaying from non-use as they swing like a man on a noose: once full of life, and now a dead ornament. Did we forget that Pittsburgh was the hometown of the greatest neighbor of all, Mr. Rodgers? 

Thus I have decided to found The Front Porch Project. From this day forth, I will try to spend at least one hour on my front porch, greeting friends and strangers alike. Porch gatherings shall ensue. Men, come smoke a pipe. Women, come gab while drinking water or lemonade. Let us break out of the four walls and windows of isolation, and swing freely on the porch swing of community! Life is so much more enjoyable when you are outdoors, with friends, and in the presence of the Creator in fellowship.  

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor. Won't you be mine? 

[this post dedicated to David who celebrated his first month in Pittsburgh and became our new neighbor over dinner last night]

vanities of vanities (leaving facebook).

It's hard to believe that my last blog post was nearly one year ago. Then again, facebook has a good way of distracting me from blogs. Why keep a blog when you can update every 5 minutes?

"Heading for the store; hope there's no traffic"
"Got some new shoes!! Totally great deal!"
"Using the bathroom."

Every year, I re-evaluate why I am on the social networking site. If the good reasons outweigh the questionable, then I stay on and try to sort the other stuff out. If the questionable outweighs the good, then I pull the plug. This is probably the my fourth time. Mark Zuckerburg should stop accepting my friend request with the number of times I've left his website.

Many people have asked why I'm leaving Facebook. They ask the same questions that some people ask when you leave a church. "Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? But we'll miss you!!" Honestly, it comes down to these two reasons: insecurity and un-intentionality.

1) I am an insecure person. When I see another musician succeeding, I become jealous. When I see a girl taking a camera photo of herself in her new dress, I want to post a picture of ME in a new dress. When I see brothers and sisters in Christ putting website after website of amazing causes and activist activities they've joined, I feel stupid and lazy. "Elise, that's not healthy." I know. That's why I'm leaving Facebook.

2) I've struggled for years to have intentional relationships. When I find myself looking on Facebook to substitute for a phone call or personal email, I know something is wrong. Facebook tells me I have 319 friends. We may not have spoken in two years but we're still "friends." In reality, I spy on 319 people daily. You don't know it, but I saw that you made that new recipe from Smitten Kitchen. Oh, and that new bikini that you bought 15 seconds ago looks really cute. Does anyone else feel awkward? 


Socrates said, "For a human being, the unexamined life is not worth living." I might go as far to say that the unexamined life means I am NOT living. Instead, I am caught in the drone and monotony of what I'm accustomed to doing, and have forgotten why I started in the first place.

So until the day I can in good conscience sign back on, I suppose we'll just have to call/text/email/snail-mail/visit each other. Yeah, I'll miss you too.

ALS Blog: fight the devil by being an "angel"

If you're like my mom, and stalk my posts on Facebook, you will have noticed that I have posted incessantly the last 2 days about joining the campaign to raise awareness and funds for the Western Pennsylvania Chapter of ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease).

I think the last time I was part of a charity walk was Relay for Life. That was in high school and mainly because they asked me to sing. This walk, however, is more personal as a relative of my mom's, Mike Braden, is currently fighting ALS alongside his wife, daughter, sisters, and web community. I'm in the process of organizing a benefit show/art exhibit called "When the Night is Gone" along with my donation page, which tells a little more about the motivation to walk, organize the concert, and love this family.

In my 2nd installment today of others who live Beyond Purgatory, I will be talking about this family. We all recognize the heartache that someone feels when he or she is diagnosed with a debilitating disorder, let alone a degenerative disease. Such a disease can only prepare you for how your body will slowly decline. It can be a living death sentence.

But I forget to think about what the families must go through. Sheila has seen her precious husband use a cane, then be confined to a wheelchair, mumble his words, and then lose his ability to speak. His daughter sacrifices time with friends to stay at home and help around the house, and while she is mature for her years, laments that she needs time away from home too. But she encounters the discouragment that as her family may not understand her need for time away, her friend's don't understand her need to be at home. This disease seems to literally be a purgatory, a place between two realities: life and death.

But this family perseveres. They laugh. They pray. They are so thankful and encouraging to all who call on them. And as we seek to lift their spirits, they in tern effortlessly lift ours up as well.

September 10th, I will walk with my family as "Mike's Angels" in the Pittsburgh Walk to Defeat ALS. If you'd like to support us, come to the concert, make a donation on my page, rally with us in prayers. Join the angel band :)

one policeman, one car, and one $200 ticket

In Beyond Purgatory I try to relate stories of not settling for the status quo. However, I (unfortunately) realize that I rarely share stories of OTHERS who go beyond their call of duty or what is handed to them. Well, this is a real person. And this is his story.

Thursday morning is garbage morning on Kosciusko (my street; see picture above of how it looked during Snowmageddon 2010). The 100 or so residents who live in this "two way, one at a time" street are required to move their cars for the sake of our garbage men, fearless men who brave the smells and slopes of our humble roads. I've lived on this street for more than a year, and I know the drill. But usually I work in the morning and therefore can leave before the clock strikes 8am and I turn into a pumpkin. However, this was my week off. That, coupled with being sick for the last 3 days, resulted in me forgetting what day it was.

So I left my car on the street.

This Thursday morning, I awoke to the terrible sound of a truck backing up. Beep...beep...beep. That could have been my heart monitor. I jumped out of bed, hair a blaze, tie dye shirt unkempt, and rushed to the stairwell. In the window I saw him: our traffic cop, who had been pounding away at our door...all so I would not get the $200 ticket and towing fee.

Let me elaborate on the hurdles that this man crossed to save a poor young married couple from an unfortunate financial burden. The garbage men (with no mercy, but quite understandably) had argued from the start to call the ticketing police and have my car towed. A $200 fee. This policeman was actually our traffic cop, because construction is now taking up a full block and a half of our lower street where we usually park on garbage day. But he left his post to see if he could do something. Our neighbor happened to be outside, and assured the policeman that I was home because she saw our 2 bikes in the backyard. So the policemen rang the doorbell...9x. Little did he know that we had unplugged the doorbell because we had cooked a day prior (it usually has to be unplugged with only 2 outlets in the kitchen). So he resorted to knocking....HARD. But with an air conditioner and fan, the likelihood of us hearing someone knocking on the first floor door of our 2nd floor apartment is (and was) nadda. But he persisted, while the garbage men taunted him to give up and teach me a lesson. And then, when I did rush downstairs (wakened by the beeps, mind you, not the knocking), he was not rude or condescending at all, but almost as relieved as I was. And I was relieved.

I personally think this man went above the call of duty. Not in a "staring death in the face" way that we often associate with the term, but in a way that genuinely looked out for the residents of Pittsburgh (which I'm sad to say is not often the reputation we have of Pittsburgh cops, especially on the South Side). I am thankful, to him, to our neighbor, to the beeps, and to the Lord for seeing us in favor this morning. *sigh of relief*

And Chris just did the dishes. It's going to be a great day.

the symphony in the silence

I am most amazed of how the Lord moves when I myself am motionless.

This afternoon, I watched the Lord guide a conversation from confession, to justification, to internal reflection, to conviction, to action. I saw Him shape the hearts of men, awaken their spirit, with a timing that was so perfect for each heart and spirit to align in unity.

Had I spoken up, interrupted with my own contributions based in frustration and disagreement, I'm not sure I would have witnessed seeing the Lord's hand. For certain, I would have either forced the conclusion of the conversation prematurely, or derailed the conversation all together.

As our church winded around the twists and turns of self-discovery, I reluctantly chose silence and instead praised the Lord for each new epiphany. (I rarely praise discovery, and instead hold out my praises for the final outcome). And I reached the final epiphany that the Lord has been imprinting on my soul for a while now:

Let me be the maestro, and let your prayers evoke the music in others. In your silence, listen to the harmony and the counter-melodies I am weaving the lives of those around you. There is so much music for you to hear. Isn't it wonderful?

'Tis.

deliver us from evil

Sometimes I dream that people I love die. Now, this is very disturbing for me (aside from the obvious reasons) but also because I have had dreams that have come true...and not in the Cinderella way. I have had dreams that have had spiritual, metaphorical, prophetic significance. And then I have dreams that are because I watched an odd movie.

And then I dream my fears. I dream in anxiety.

Two days this week I have had dreams that Chris is about to die. The first time he was going to be incinerated by a demon who was also hacking our bank account through overseas computer nerds (I know...very believable). Last night I dreamed that a flood and earthquake occurred in Fox Chapel, propelling our car into the air and sending us underwater as the overpass landed on top of us, keeping us from each other...and escaping to the surface. Both of these dreams awake me in a panic, to which I wake Chris up, and he tells me that I can tell him about the nightmare after I finish making the drinks for the last customers (apparently he's dreaming about Starbucks).

Today I found myself at work with a panic/anxiety that something was going to happen to Chris. Then it dawned on me: welcome Fowkes generational "anxiety disorder." Mental illness on the side of bipolar and anxiety runs in my mom's side of the family, and we're not ashamed to admit that. Sometimes naming a diagnosis provides a sense of relief.

"Worry, doubt, fear and despair are the enemies which slowly bring us down to the ground and turn us to dust before we die." ~Attributed to Douglas MacArthur

I refuse to succumb to a history of anxiety. This will not be a part of my life. I will not complacently sit by and allow the anxiety to take over my mind, to rule my thoughts. I will fight. I will pray. And I will remind myself that the Lord takes care of those who love him, that He is stronger than any generational curse, and that whatever comes, He is victorious.

NOTE: I am not making a grandiose statement stating "You can be healed if you have enough faith" and therefore implying if you haven't, you lack faith. I am also not implying that medication is a ruse. I know men and women of great faith who continue to struggle with disorders/diagnosis, and members of my own family who are able to function better because of medication.

I am saying that for me, my personal struggles and battles with mental illness, it was prayer and faith that saved me. And that helps when you continuously forget to take your Celexa. But that is my story. May it encourage to increase your faith, but not necessarily deter you from your path of healing.

Feet to walk, hands to pray

My second favorite hymn (that I can recall) is "Take my life and let it be." It catalogs the parts of a persons life and the dedication of their use to the Lord's service. Life is consecrated. Song sung for the Lord. Hands moving at love's impulse. The song reminds me that each limb and muscle that I've been given has a holy purpose, if I should choose to use them as such.

In an effort to be more healthy and green, I've encouraged myself to ditch the car and use the bike or walk when I can. My friend Jean gravitates more towards walking, justifying her opinion by saying "that's what the body was made to do: walk." So I decided to walk home from a friends: 4.5 miles. As I left her air conditioned living room, I lamented about my decision to make the trek, knowing the July heat would surely cause me to melt. Kristin's response: "Yeah, it can be uncomfortable...but then it's walking. You can keep walking."

A wise observation. A stop here and there to rehydrate, I kept walking, one foot in front of the other, until I reached home with just the balls of my feet slightly perturbed (they're now fine 45 mins later).

Going out on another limb (pun definitely intended), I have become frustrated with a lack of prayer. Of course, my frustration quickly falls on those around me. "No one wants to pray. They don't want talk to God. If I don't initiate, no one will. Fine, no one wants to join, then I'm not going to do it." That is a hypocritical argument. In the end, I will talk with Christ about what I did, not what I intended to do, and certainly not receive a pass when I attempt to blame others for my lack of follow thru.

The epistle Titus, chapter 2, encouraged me to shift my vantage point. So often I read the Bible and think, "Aha, so-and-so could use that verse." But the mercy of Christ prevailed, and He gently turned the microscope to my heart. Am I living a life that reflects the integrity and seriousness of the teaching of which I am so quick to preach? Am I seeking to live humbly, peacefully, and loving others? Am I living in this world with righteousness, wisdom, and devotion to God, all the while holding onto a hope of His final redemption of all creation? Am I encouraging others by setting an example? Or am I turning "whole families" from the Kingdom by pointing out the sin in them, that is also in me?

My hands do not move at the impulse of Thy love, but at the outburst of my own frustration.

But my hands were made to help, to heal, the hold. So as my feet learned that they could walk the streets of Pittsburgh in the heat, may my hands relearn their purpose. To touch the "untouchables" and hold the "unholy". May I pray for those hurt, bless those who curse. And may I pray forgiveness for myself, that "I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults."

Give us this day our daily produce

So how do fruits and vegetables fit into living life on the edge?

A couple weeks ago Chris and I were getting ready to take our final wedding pictures (3 months late...it was awesome). When we put my wedding dress on, horror ensued: the dress no longer fit. After crying myself to sleep, I decided that was the final straw: I wanted to be healthier.

The next morning, we realized that the wedding dress DID in fact fit, and that we had done something wrong the night before. Phew! But I had still become determined to be a healthier me, and for once, not back down at the sight of a Cheesecake Factory gift card (thanks Hot Metal!)

In addition to exercising in a way that my body hates me, and occasionally tracking food calories on Livestrong.com, Chris and I have decided to make farmer's markets and the produce section of grocery stores our home sweet home. Supportive friends started writing and blogging recipes so that we didn't resort to pasta, cheese and crackers. I am currently undergoing a scavenger hunt around Pittsburgh, compiling an Excel spreadsheet comparing prices from Trader Joes, Whole Foods, Superior Produce, PennMac, Giant Eagle, and Farmer's Markets (I've been suspiciously questioned by employees 2x now...)

So how does this change of diet fit into living life on the edge? Intentionality.

As a long time eater, eating has become second nature to me, like breathing: I can do it without thinking. This is a Hindmarsh trait. My dad can consume 9 rolls in 2 seconds. I can eat a whole pie or cashew tin in one sitting. Food is the only thing my grandfather will roll his wheelchair for. The result: I am a tornado and I will consume anything in my path. I will cook from a recipe in my head that takes 15 minutes to prepare, and I will crave more food in about 1 hour.

But I have seen the silver lining. I take time to consider what I am feeding my body. I think about the food item I buy: the vitamin content, the versatility among recipes, etc. I calculate about how many people it will serve (we love having guests). When I make a dish, I can't wait to tell my friend Lena, swap recipes, and share a meal...which inevitably leads to awesome stories and fellowship. I see the creativity of God in food and spices I'd have never imagined together (avacados and cocoa powder????) blend into a melting pot of flavors that melt my face off.

To be intentional is not limited to who you spend time with, what books you're reading, what movies you're watching, what church you're attending. Intentionality can be sought in every aspect of our lives, down to the food we eat. My social justice friends will rant and rave about the ecological benefits of organic farming, vegan diets, fair trade/slave free chocolate. As Christians, we understand that we are part of a greater whole. Our dinner does not just affect our stomach or the dreams we may have. It's why we say grace, to bless the hands that prepared our food...and grew our food...and harvested our food...and sold our food. Jesus can help you make your shopping list.

Once again, He has shown me He is so good. Beyond His creation of food, of course, but in food none the less. How could I ever be satisfied with mud pies (or Hamburger helper) again?

"A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, ²⁵ for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?"
- Ecclesiastes 2:24-25

Amen.

I can't figure out how to solve world poverty

"I want to solve world poverty...that's going to take a while."

Chris says that is what I say to myself when I desire to do good in the world. And the effect paralyzes me from doing anything at all.

I guess that includes sleep.

I laid in bed continuing to think about this thing called "story." An acquaintance of mine is changing the scenery of her story and is spending the rest of her summer in Chiapas, Mexico. I am not envious of her being there, but envious of her spirit. To get up and go would be a marvelous adventure. But where am I to get up and go?

I want to get up and go to my own backyard. I want the lives of the kids I work with the change. I want to give them an opportunity to become heroes (maybe it's because I want to feel like one, too?)

So I started brainstorming on what would be possible. If their world vision changed, maybe they would change. Minds shift as our worldview shift. We are changed through challenge, through struggle, through excitement of victory. What if I had them choose a goal that made a difference in someone else's life? Would their life change then too, even just 1 degree, if they knew they were changing the life of someone else?

So I've ordered 5 catalogs from World Vision...that's about all I can do right now at 3:17am. The end of world poverty may have to wait, but it can at least begin.

My heart is on fire. Lord, show me the way when the smoke clears...

Choose Your Own Adventure (reflection on the principle of "Story")

A couple updates from October 2010 that are worth mentioning:

1. I got engaged Nov 1st, 2010 to Chris Massa

2. I got married on March 5th, 2011 to Chris Massa

3. We are doing very, very well

There that should do it. You are now aware of most of the important changes in my life. Moving on...

Chris and I took a spontaneous road trip across the state to visit his parents and best friends, Phil and Carrie, who just had their first son, Isaac. (Some people would say that names don't matter because ultimately, I'm the only one who knows who they are. I say I'd rather identify someone by their name because it makes them a person...rant done.)

This was the first road trip in a long time in which I enjoyed the drive as much as the final destination. On the return home, we began listening to the audio book of Donald Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years." A few things you should know about my reading habits: I don't get past the first chapter, and I fall asleep within 15 minutes of a book being read. Chris has resorted to reading me short stories in order to help me fall asleep when my insomina wants to kick in (I still don't know how the Leopard got it's spots...) So, in fear that I would fall asleep, Chris told me the summary of this book before we started listening: Donald dissects the principle of "story" (a character wants something and chooses to overcome obstacles in order to get it) and what it means to have a story that's worthwhile.

I fell asleep at Chapter 2 and woke up at Chapter 10. Donald was talking to a friend who after discussing "story" with Donald, decided to change the story of his family in efforts to save his daughter. His daughter was using drugs and dating the unapproved boyfriend. So Don's friend decided that instead of grounding her, he would give her an opportunity to changer her story by entering into his: building an orphanage for $25,000. After a couple days, the daughter asked if the family could go to Mexico to visit the orphans. Then she stopped using drugs. Then she dumped her boyfriend. And then the quote that made me turn off the audio book so that I could digest it and eventually led me to write this blog: "A girl playing the hero does not date a loser like that."

How would our lives change if we thought about our stories?

What story are you in? Is it a story assigned to you, you created, or fell into without thinking? Does your story keep you interested, or are you falling asleep during the first chapter? Do you think your story will end in victory, defeat, or (the worst) when it just leaves you hanging with no answer?

What character are you? Are you a survivor who beats incredible odds? A victim who dies tragically of his own character flaw? Are you the one mentioned in line 2 page 164 and quickly forgotten by line 2.5?

If every worthwhile story has struggle, how do you respond when it comes? Do you fight head on like Indiana Jones who somehow always defeats the Nazis although they outnumber him 10-1? Do you join the Dark Side when it becomes too hard? Do you sacrifice yourself so that those around you can still have victory?

I wonder how I can apply this lesson of story to my life and to the lives of the kids I work with. Sometimes I feel we can become trapped by a story provided by a psychiatrist, or an abusive father, or a powerless religion that says the climax of "His Story" is church on Sunday and reading Bible stories. Do I believe that the True Author gives us collaborative rights to our own story, and that it can be a beautiful,edge of your seat novel of romance, adventure, and ultimate victory?

Let's choose our own adventure, friends. Let's have stories worth reading, worth living, worth waking up for. I don't want to keep falling asleep...

Soul Mates - new poem

Soul Mates

like the man stranded
on a deserted island
laughing
while thirsting
at his ironic situation
so I stare into the sea of faces
and think
people, people everywhere
but not a soul to speak

their words fly
past me
I am uninvited
their eyes search
over my shoulder
even the deeper glances zone
out of focus
and we remain acquaintances
or worse, lovers

this innate sense
of connection
is clothed in its burial shroud
age tends to cover
instincts
with well-wrought lessons
the fine thank you okay doing well going good eh alright
I’ll swallow these pleasantries

and hope remains an aftertaste
that I have a soul mate
who might listen
to every word

Download Elise Hindmarsh Music Now!

Is it okay if I smile?

This is a small venting post, I admit.

I'd like to know if it's okay if I smile. If it's okay that I thoroughly enjoy life, that I count my blessings while skipping in the grocery store, and laugh really hard at small things. I'd like to know if it's okay if I don't write songs about super sad emotions, or to make strong political statements, but simply want to bring a little thought and a little peace and a little happiness to those who hear me play. Is it okay that I am optimistic? That I think people are good at heart and become sad when I find out they're not, rather than sound the cynical cymbal with "I TOLD YOU SO" ? Is it okay that I try my best, that I desire to do well, rather than wallow in my problems and weaknesses? Is it okay if I strive?

Is it okay if I'm happy?

Because right now, I feel a ridiculous pull from those around me to bring me into their "the world is going to hell and we're gonna sit here with our drinks and complain about it" party. I'm all about being real. About not wearing masks. About being realistic. SO...

I am really, realistically, un-maskedly happy with life right now. My heart breaks for those who are struggling. But please, in love, do not attempt to break me.

Star Gazing

I wish I was star gazing right now, like the real stars in the sky that occasionally shoot across the black and allow you to make a wish.

I wish I was doing that instead of sitting here on my computer. But I am updating network pages and downloading tracks to be sold online and frankly, my butt hurts.

One of the reasons I enjoy shows is that I can meet people. Not network. Meet people. I want to get better at this. I realize that with every event, choice of restaurants, and unlimited access to movies via Netflicks, it is quite an honor for someone to take time and listen to me sing some heart murmurs that I fumbled to articulate into song.

After all this downloading completes, I am going to go and flyer for an upcoming show at a coffeehouse. I hope I can meet the people at those places. Pittsburgh is a small enough city where family can still happen on the street. I hope I never stop looking for it.

women of strength

i am so desperately in awe of the Lord who turned me, a girl who hated girls because of past betrayal, into a woman who yearns for the fellowship of women. deep, passionate women who love and hurt with such dignity that i cannot help but grow from just a passing sigh. i am so blessed. i am so honored that i would be considered and welcomed into such a sisterhood.

i hope that one day we as people will be better bonded by our love and redemption than hate and destruction. but as we inch closer to that hope, I am so thankful that i can oscillate between crying and composure with a friend's hand to hold me steady through it all.

on another note, I spent last night dancing and rejoicing in the Spirit in my room until 3am. i can't wait to dance with Him again. sorry to all of you whom i overwhelmed this afternoon as i bounced around, smiling and laughing until my ears almost popped off. but how could I be silent, when surely goodness had follow me in the house of God...may it be forever.

Hand to the Plow

Wind is picking up speed these days. Two weekends from now will hopefully be the music weekend from heaven...not, well..you know.

Saturday night I am playing at the Catholic Underground coffeehouse. Sunday I lead worship at a different church. Monday I perform with United Harvest Workers Union, Ember Days, and another band from Florida (?) that I apparently will love but always forget their name. It's exciting.

Yet of course, Elise cannot live without paradox. As things pick up with performances/worship, I feel a gentle tug on the emergency break of my slowly accelerating car. The echoing question: Why do you do what you do? It's a question of self-evalutation, of everything, everyone in my life. Including me. A sifting period.

And right as things were getting good.

Jesus says that whoever puts their hand to the plow and then looks back is not fit for the kingdom of God. So how does one look forward and inward? Or do we not judge ourselves but allow the Holy Spirit to bring things up as we plow away? Like a GPS. Hahaha: God's Personal Spirit. Hahahaha, oh, I can be such a freaking corny Christian :)

But seriously, folks, perhaps as we drive toward God's direction, the Holy Spirit whispers "turn right." And when we make a mistake, the ever popular direction on my dad's GPS occurs: "Recalculating."

Hand on the plow, eyes towards Christ, ears towards the Spirit. Now that's multi-tasking.