Hello! God’s peace carry you, good folk.
Thanks for being here! It is always a gift to be with you here.
This week, two things are true: I’ve been enjoying the private conversations around this Psalm project, and I’ve been feeling nervous under pressure I put on myself. Brené Brown’s words, “you can’t skip day two,1” clambered through my headphones this week just in time. I hit messy middle real quick.
Last week I started a new project to write and sketch my way through the Psalms, one a week, and I’d love anyone who’d like to join for as much or as little as you’d like. I spoke with a couple friends this week about it, one who’s talking about setting the text to music each week, another who might paint some watercolors. Their excitement and ideas reminded me of why I’m starting this project.
Sometimes, in my studio, I miss being part of a team at work. For sure, there is community around my studio, people without whom studio sales and events would never happen. But I mean coworkers, a regular team, steady community who knows me well enough to call me out, even weekly meetings.
Lately I’ve started to think of all artists, writers, musicians as my coworkers. I host co-working hours in my studio, and I’ve been playing around more with what collaboration can look like in my community. I’m curious about what co-laboring alongside one another can yield, even if we’re just doing our own thing, but beside one another, like when we read our own books at the same library. Want to co-work, play, create with me?And two, sometimes in the studio, I struggle with the irregular rhythms, as one big project amps up for a couple months, then finishes for a sometimes long quiet period with no active commmissions. Spiritual practices and regular projects (like the 1-a-day or 100 day projects) help steady me. I’m excited about having this small project to focus on as a regular practice even as the other projects come in and out.
Both spiritually and creatively, these small actions slowly shape me. My hope for this Psalm project in particular? To train in emotional honesty, to grow as a listener and reader, to grow in attention to the themes and and curiosity about symbols of the psalmists’ work, to have a weekly practice of what I call physical-therapy-prayer (praying with others, even when my legs feel wobbly, or when my questions sing loud), and… hence the Brené Brown quote, to practice vulnerability by sharing imperfect writing. My perfectionist heart is racing right now. I’ve written for years without sharing it, but the last few years I’ve decided to show up relationally with what I have, being faithful to share my writing where it is. While I hope this practice strengthens me as a writer, I also hope this Psalm project shapes me as a human showing up in the messy middle, embracing the gift of existing.
I really struggled with this week’s. And. It is wild to be alive. I love getting to play words together, to hear yours, and to share mine too. I hope you’ll share too. The less pressure we have here to polish and perfect, I think the more we’ll play. I’ll share my today-words. Whatever we bring is good.
That’s a lot of words this week.
But as I’m getting this project started, I’m hoping to share these words for anyone else sitting here thinking about joining in, but still feeling timid. I so hope you join in. If you wrote (or sang or painted) with Psalm 1 this week (or want to now!), share it in our chats!
And then, when you’re ready, today or over the next week, turn with me to Psalm 2?
I’ll share mine below, with my coloring sheet.
And also, for meditation and inspiration and sheer joy, here’s Poor Bishop Hooper’s version from their EveryPsalm project.
Why are we doing this? Why is every country, kingdom, courtroom scheming- Maniacal machinations that make us Merciless, leave us empty. Self-congratulating counsels of congressmen and kings, set against the set-apart true King. War-room water-cooler clamoring, “Who needs a king? We are kings! Watch us build kingdoms of our own! We’re free!” I think I hear heaven laughing; Is that ridicule or pity? His justice talks, His real-talk terrifies them. “Look what you’ve done, is this what you call a kingdom? You are only pretend-kings holding your breath and bastardizing life. My King, see him? On my mountain?” The one God anointed King will speak the God-words: “God told me, “My child, I am your forever-family. Today is the day of your birth.” Ask me for any gift, and I’ll give Every country, kingdom, Your child will inherit from you the mountain, And all the world you see from it.” The pretend-kings, you’ll protect your people from them, Your power iron, their mud-kingdom clay. Your way will last. They’ll end up in shards.” It doesn’t have to be like this, kings; choose to listen! Let this be the word that helps you hear, there’s still time to see what justice looks like. Take off your crown and bow low before our King, Kiss his feet, anoint him, the good King, Learn humility, Or his protectiveness will puff up between you and those you push low in all your climbing, And your rule will be over before it begins, Your breath snuffed out, his justice smoldering; The oppressed and the humble all find peace; Blessed are the refugees held in his embrace.
Thank you, wild folk. Wrestle and write and make messes this week. May the wild wind of God’s Presence fill your homes and hearts and lungs this week.
Peace,
Audrey
Brené Brown, Rising Strong