The world is hard. The world is dark. Remember the world is beautiful. It’s filled with so many tiny and huge beauties. You are among those beauties. Continue to be light in the world. Continue to be the light that you are in so much darkness. You’re valuable. You have boundless worth.
I’m glad you’re here.
The table’s have turned.
I asked quite a few men (more than appear here, but frankly, I got too impatient and too excited to share with you*) in my life to define a couple of words. Sensitivity. Strength. What the words mean to them, and shoot me a picture. A picture that they felt expresses strength or that they’re proud of. Some included a description with that photo. Some defined both words. Some are so simple and beautiful. Some are longer and academic. All are lovingly thought out. Some weren’t given them at once to define, so don’t think as some as more anything. I didn’t push, because I’m thrilled with what they’ve given me, what they’re giving you. I’ve cried a few times just reading through these. I’ve done a tiny bit of editing because foster parents have hard lives, but mostly you’re getting the raw thoughts of a bunch of pretty damn incredible men.
*Thank you to those who shared with me. For being vulnerable. Thank you to those who wanted to, but are bad with deadlines.
Nigel Berry
“With an attempt to avoid waxing poetic, I might describe sensitivity as an open posture to foreign feelings. Reflected in my photo with my oldest daughter, the sensitivity emerges as I enter into her joy and experience of love. Maintaining a posture of sensitivity can be truly life giving! But it is costly. Not everything is baby giggles and rainbows with sensitivity. It threatens pride,status, and cultural expectations to be a sensitive man. Other times, it invites us into the pain of others. I think that being sensitive, when explored, is discovered to present a lot of risk. I think fear stifles sensitivity.
Strength, to me, always centers around motion – the ability to move or to resist movement. That’s why “strength” can simultaneously be both a positive or a negative depending on the context. ”
Dan Schwartz
“Honestly, I don’t think of sensitivity much. Which is weird, I’m either in/over that stage in life where you stop to think about who you are and what you believe and what values are important to you. I’m not sure I’ve ever really personally defined sensitivity, so here goes.
Sensitivity to me would be the ability to be aware of another’s emotions, mood, feelings, etc., without them being directly communicated.
Strength, now, that’s a little easier. I believe strength is the ability to exert.
Strength matters deeply to me and how I live my life. Strength to me isn’t about how strong I am, but my ability to give myself to make others stronger.
In one sentence strength is pulling two toddlers in a wagon up and down a steep driveway for a half hour while the baby you’re carrying is mastering the art of pulling out your beard and chest hair at the same time.”
John Cessna
“I really like this headshot I have. It’s calm, confident, and honest, without feeling like I have to be an over the top clown. There’s balance, an easy ability to be comfortable in your own skin in that:
Sensitivity to me is understanding another person (or group of people’s) emotional reasoning and motivations without letting it affect your own mindset and emotional space. It’s the ability to remove your own identity from another person’s.”
Stephen Miliken
“Sensitivity starts with awareness and ends with action-oriented care. To grow in sensitivity means first to grow in awareness of the world around you and in you. The more you learn about both of those things, the more your sensitivities are expanded. And, in a perfect world, the more you are aware of something, the more opportunity you have to care for it, to change because of it, to do something in response to it. They say that higher education develops a person’s “feminine qualities,” their appreciation for art and for many other nuances of the world. I think it’s better explained that education brings new things about ourselves and the world into awareness. And from that point on we either have to deny what we now know about it or we can choose to embrace what we know and do something about it – we care.
Strength is the other side of discipline, its result. Be it physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, as we practices the disciplines related to each, our strength increases. At a more basic level, strength is about dealing with burden, again whether that is physical weight, or emotional and mental weight. When I think of strength, the first thing that comes to mind is strength of character and magnanimity. For me, the most important strength to have is strength of character, or integrity. This is about doing what is right against all odds, even in the face of personal loss.
And here’s the cool thing, the more you grow in sensitivity – awareness of self and world – the more opportunity you have to grow in strength (of character), they go hand-in-hand. How will you respond to what you now know? Caring about people, places and things takes a tremendous amount of strength of all kinds.”
Jeff Blossom
Tim Keaton
“Sensitivity: Knowing what needs to be done and when it needs to be done.
Strength: Doing what needs to be done when it needs to be done.”
Dustin McDowell
“In my life right now, everything is about family. My job, my downtime, my everything is my family. Unlike most people though, my family is not my own. As a foster parent, it is my job to be sensitive to the needs of the kids we take in. It is my job to not track down and beat the shit out parents who have no taken patience and time with their children, to understand them and gently care for them. It is my job to be sensitive to the fact that I have to hold it together if children we bring into our home to keep safe doesn’t feel understand just how safe they are. On top of this, it is my job to be sensitive enough to be able to cry with my wife and love these kids for the days, weeks, or months we have them before sending them back home. I’m like the Dobby of foster care. At the moment, I’d like to think that I can be as sensitive as my wife needs me, but some days I’m not strong enough to be unselfish. Most days I am, but not always. Lucky for me though, I have an awesome, understanding wife who knows that the situation we chose to be in isn’t always the easiest.”
Ted Stavrou
“To have sensitivity is to have a willingness to appreciate other peoples’ perspectives without the need to impose your own on them. It requires patience and outward perceptiveness. There’s peace in not thinking you have all the answers, or even need them.
Strength to me is more inward; it’s a willingness to look inside yourself and discover your own values and what makes you tick, and despite any fear or pride, go ahead and be vulnerable anyway.
There are those who try to make people think like themselves and coerce others to accept their values, while others keep themselves to themselves, even putting on masks to avoid conflict or pain. Still worse, I suppose, are those who don’t care at all. Those paths all end in resentment, pride and ultimately, isolation. I think true strength and sensitivity work hand-in-hand to bring people closer together. Without love as an ultimate motivation, you can’t really possess either. Of course, there are times where love seems more like madness, but it’s really all that matters to me in the end.”
Steve Edinger
“To me, sensitivity means awareness of what others around me are going through, whether positive or negative. In addition to that awareness, it also means thoughtfully considering how to appropriately respond to the feelings and needs of others.
Strength can mean so many things that it is tough to come up with a concise, non-rambling definition. I think that, first and foremost, strength is almost synonymous with perseverance, or a willingness to endure difficulties of all sorts. Second, confidence balanced with a willingness to accept and learn from criticism is also an important aspect of strength. That is, confidence in one’s abilities, worldview, and general self-worth is important. However, overconfidence to the point that one is unwilling to listen and learn from the perspectives of others isn’t strength, it is hubris. Finally, I believe strength can be defined as a willingness to show compassion and care for others, regardless of cost to self. An individual who tears others down to achieve for him or herself may indeed be successful at getting ahead, but has not shown strength. Instead, a truly strong person would have the confidence to know that showing compassion and building others up is more important than gaining success solely for oneself. Strength means recognizing that life is not a zero-sum game, and that my success does not need to be predicated on the failure of others.”
Joey Spiegel
“For me sensitivity means creating space in my heart for others, which is not an easy task nor is it my modus operandi. It’s about believing people when they tell me how/what they feel rather than imposing my projections on to them. I think strength is similar in that it is about creating or finding a safe place for yourself and others; a place where vulnerability is allowed. There is no strength in subjecting others to your will. I think there is strength in welcoming others though, because that is where you are tested and refined as a human. This is weird to write but that’s all I got!”
Stephen Webster
“Sensitivity I think primarily manifests itself as an awareness of the feelings of others. It is an understanding that other people’s needs and desires are as important as my own. It is a decision to validate other people – their thoughts, their dreams, their words through a courteous ,conscientious, attentive posture toward them.”
Patrick Harding
“I attached a photo of me playing last night. I don’t know that it expresses either strength or pride. But performing always scares me, and I feel vulnerable…exposed. Something about that feels good.
Sensitivity: To seek understanding first before seeking to be understood.
Have you ever been in an argument with someone? An argument where both parties are seeking justification of their own actions rather than seeking reconciliation? I find that’s usually why I get into arguments in the first place.
Have you ever played a piece of music, given a sermon on a passage, performed a play, or read a book? Whenever I do something like this, something where I’m interpreting, I always come to it bringing prejudices. So much so, that whatever comes out was far less about what was intended, and far more about who I am, and cannot escape being.
Do we marginalize people? Have you ever posted heavy-handed articles on Facebook about a community you’re not a part of? Whose struggles you do not endure? Do you cringe when you see someone different than you?
I dunno. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I assure you that isn’t my intention. But in all these cases, I think that we are just trying to force things into our mess. We all carry so much baggage, and it’s terribly unfair to try to make someone else carry it. I mean, come on. They have their own.
And finally to define strength, which is tough. Because I don’t know that any of us have it…not really, anyway.
Oftentimes, when I hear that word, I muster up images of armor-clad warriors, or of brave people fighting against the current. I realize, though, that I’ve only ever been strong or brave when Jesus was strong or brave for me…when I have my armor stripped of me, when I shiver in fear and admit that I need carrying. I have no strength in me. Just need. And that’s okay…though I often need to remake my peace with that fact.
Society often tells us to be strong, to hunker down, grit teeth, and march forward…and I get it. It’s probably more acceptable than saying “Go ahead. Collapse.” And there’s probably times when that’s true. But everything falls, eventually. And when I do, I find that something else rebuilds me.”
Joseph Schwartz
“Sensitivity is not a word in my daily vocabulary, and not a trait that I place a higher value on than any other. I think it’s important to offer sincere sensitivity when it’s needed, and to me maybe the sincerity itself is more important. I am sort of an introvert and selfish by nature, and my own quest for sensitivity has been more focused on not being insensitive than being actively sensitive. My experience has also been that we don’t always know what need – sometimes reading between the lines is necessary/beneficial.”
And maybe strength has something to do with it. I don’t know. We tend to define strength along really gendered terms. Strength is male. Strength is soldiers. Strength is drones. Strength is cops in helmets and riot gear. I’m tired of that. I really am. That doesn’t mesh with the Jesus of the Gospels. Christ was murdered for being poor, and brown, and preaching about turning the political state inside out. “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you shall be hungry.” His father’s kingdom was a radical departure from a strong and independent kingdom of Israel that the those in power had been hoping for. That didn’t sit well with some, I guess. So they killed him. Remember “hands up, don’t shoot?” Submission as an act of political protest? Surrender as an act of defiance? How about we define strength by starting there, and see where that leads?”
Joel Reichenbach“Sensitivity to me is to be considerate; to consider others. The way I experience sensitivity is how others consider me, and how I consider others around me. I find myself greatly affected when someone considers my thoughts and feelings. To know that someone has made space for who I am in a conversation or situation lets me know that I am welcome. I am also affected when others’ thoughts and feelings are not a part of the conversation. Who we are are is important, and who others are is important. It weighs heavy on me to me to make space for others. I aim (and miss quite frequently) to know others and be known by others. We all have value — being sensitive to making that value known and experienced is an important responsibility.” .
Isaac Becker
Semi-faithful readers will know that I’ve been working on a Project. I’ve been gathering definitions of Beauty from anyone and everyone I can. I’ve asked nearly everyone I know. Moms, dads, grandmas, aunts, college students, high school students, social workers, teachers, grad students, professors, Americans, Brits, brothers, sisters. Answers trickle in slowly. It’s a tough thing to define, so I wasn’t anticipating an overnight flood of responses. Some weeks I get a few. Some weeks I get none. I don’t know what will come of any of it. I really don’t yet. I’m not even sure how I’m going to go about compiling all of it. Pictures, music, words, videos. I’ve a cornucopia of Beauty on my hands and no such compiling skills.
What has been most encouraging in all of it is the opportunity to hear so many different Hearts. So many wonderful words from so many unique Hearts and Heads. It’s a very humbling experience to be entrusted with all of these thoughts.
Today in the mail I received a true gift. My dear friend Dana sent me a parcel filled with 59 index cards from mostly high school freshmen in Tennessee defining Beauty (and Love), a three page definition of her own, a CD with music that she believes showcases Beauty and an added bonus of encouragement in CD form. I’m so truly blessed.
It’s all so wonderful. I can’t wait to gather it all and share with each of you.
Please, if you’d like to participate, e-mail your definitions to me at Hayley.Liz.Johnson@gmail.com if you’d like to participate in the visual aspect you can also attach a photo of your face, unmade up. Thank you very much for you support. It’s a truly humbling endeavor.
Thank you to my wonderful and beautiful friend Dana for this.
Now, I don’t love this as far as spoken word poetry goes, but give the woman some credit because she’s got it right. Listen hard to her points, because, my sisters, we’re missing the point. We are missing our point. Oh we have missed it. Remember whose and why you are.
To kick off your thoughts. This is beautiful. To me this is beauty. This is a part of my definition. What does it look like to you? What is your definition of beauty? Words, poems, pictures, paintings, kittens, songs, whatever you’ve got, please, send your thoughts my way. I’m working to build a semi-comprehensive definition. If your definition is big boobs and a tight ass, then that’s your definition. Send it to me. If your definition is Mother Theresa I want that too. If your definition is grace. If it’s cake. If it’s ponies or patience. Send it my way.
A week ago Monday I had an interview to volunteer with the national organization Girls, Inc. Well, she called it an interview, but it was a lot more like an opportunity for her to tell me more about their work and an opportunity for me to pour out my heart about how important that work is.
It should, hopefully, come as no surprise to my regular readers that I care deeply about the image women and girls put on themselves. The hateful image. The worthless image. The shattered image. Because of all of the factors. Media, men, culture, women, family, friends, self. And I acknowledge there is some irony and probably a bit of hypocrisy in talking to these girls about what beauty looks like, how important they are, where their value is, because frankly, I struggle with it. I’m riddled with fear of never being good enough for anyone, including myself. That’s sort of a personal struggle for my heart, because God’s shown me time and again he has a reason for me and my creation in His Image speaks well of my own image. But I get distracted. I get lost. I get beaten down. But if I can even for one moment in my life step outside of myself and show these girls, and hopefully myself too, what their value is about, what beauty looks like, where strength comes from then I think I’m pursuing what small semblance of a passion I have.
I spent a good deal of high school surrounded by eating disorders and depression. I think the thing about it though that scares me the most, even in working with Girls Inc., is that stories have this tendency to be more of an endorsement than a deterrent. I remember sitting in a chapel in seventh grade maybe and hearing an upper classmen, a girl in my brother’s class, talking about her struggle with her eating disorder. How God pulled her out of it. But she wasn’t out of it. She was very much still in it. She was a popular girl. She was well liked and stereotypically beautifully. Academically and athletically successful. It wasn’t long after a girl in the class below her started down the same dangerous path, and in a worse state. A couple of years later I’m in the car with that girl and some girls in my class. She’s telling us about her struggle and pulling herself out of the dark. It’s not long after that a girl from that car is even deeper in the woods than either girl, and her friends around her start to fall victim too.
Where’s the balance? How can we tell our own stories without breaking into someone else’s and leading them into our own dangerous hole? I don’t have an answer. I’m obviously without an answer.
What was most staggering in my “interview” though wasn’t my own realizations about myself, staggering though they were; it was some of the statistics. Heart-breaking truths. Truths I wish could soon become history, or even gradually. That 46% of girls ages 9 and 10 are some times or very often on diets. That 80% of girls have been on diets, whether put there by their families or themselves, before the age of 10. 51% of girls ages 9 and 10 feel better about themselves if they’re on a diet. 91% of women on college campuses attempt to control their weight by dieting; 22% of those women are often or always on a diet. 81% of 10-year-olds are afraid of being fat. 43% of 1st through 3rd graders want to be thinner.
That’s horrifying. It’s simply horrifying.
Just think about it.
971) Listen as hard as you can. You may only get the one chance.
972) When your heart is on the line, don’t just let things go.
973) When you find yourself at a loss for words, please, don’t try to come up with something to say.
974) If someone has shared something important with you, treat it as such.
975) Your burdens are not that burdensome to those who love you.
976) Please, don’t feel alone in your pain. Your pain is unique to you, but know you aren’t the only one hurting.
977) Put in the extra effort.
978) There is always hope.
979) When you feel lost in the world, don’t hide in your home.
980) You are not your job.
The days wear on, and I feel myself struggling on. A pair of friends in Indy. Torn between two worlds. I love my job. I love my apartment. I love Huntington. I miss my friends. And yet, I’m in Huntington right now, and I find myself feeling out-of-place in a place that just one month ago, two weeks ago even, I called “home.”
A painful but beautiful afternoon with a friend brought me out of dark place and into a different but still straining place. Every day is more beautiful and more difficult than the last. And yet there is pain out there different and more complicated than mine, that I must not neglect or ignore.
And here I am, struggling to find the words.
We’re presently in the house of John and Bea Rhodes in Maccelsfield, England about 20 minutes outside of Manchester.
But since we’d been without power for a bit I’ll tell you about two nights ago.
We went down the street and met a few interesting characters. (There’s that meet everyone you can McIlveen gene, Mom). Two girls from France, a boy called Iviu from Corsica, Jared from South Africa, Johnny from Manchester, and Craig from London. We were entertained by Iviu trying to practice his English. We made a trip to a curry house down the street from where we met them and spent a couple of hours with them laughing about cultural differences and country stereotypes. Craig bore a striking resemblance to Jon Stewart in his younger years. And Jared, some of you will be interested to know, was a Jason Latino looking fellow, though with a bit less hair. (Here are my details I’ve recorded about the evening in my journal)
“We talked for a bit before laughing at a 20-year-old Corsican boy called Iviu. Next thing we knew Iviu was sitting at our table practicing his English under the guidance of his Jason-Latino-looking flatmate Jared who hailed from Capetown, South Africa. Jared was a funny guy with a more pronounced face than Jason’s, he was also a bit slighter than Jason. After a bit Jared left us with charge of Iviu to help him work on his English. The language barrier was vast but manageable. The whole event was, of course, entertaining. Around 10 we were invited to join Iviu, Jared, and four others at a curry house. The 8 of us sat around the table laughing at our cultural differences and similarities, speaking in outrageous stereotyped generalizations, about stupid Americans, snooty Brits, goat-loving Corsicans, homosexual South Africans, and Rude Frenchies. Johnny, an attractive and typical-looking British man from Manchester, spoke humorously about how thick Americans are. He sat closely to the French and beautiful Geraldine, who was not at all “I hate you for being here” like I thought she’d be. In fact, she and I had a few silent jokes through eye contact. Across from Geraldine sat Craig who was of London about 18 years and a young Jon Stewart minus the comb over and a longer face. He kept his 30-something self closely wrapped around the shoulders of Matild, another beautiful Frenchwoman who insisted we come out with them to Pink Rubee. Se was not as chatty as Geraldine and spoke mainly in French. Next to her sat Jared who while perhaps not being as attractive as Johnny or Craig caught my eye first. Perhaps because he was in his late 20s and hardly any hair or because he did remind me so much of Latino at his chattiest or because I simply did notice him first at any rate. I sat next to him over Iviu as Iviu had much set his eyes on Bethany. I wish we’d met them sooner. It was just good to be with people.”
Next morning we waited around for ages to be checked out of our powerless hostel. Then we caught the second train to Maccelsfield which was delayed because a plane crashed on the rail. Whoops. Tragically three people were killed. Eventually though we made it there instead of having to get off nowhere near where we needed to be like they said would happen.
Had a lovely home-cooked meal last night. I’d forgotten really how great the Rhodes are. Chris reminds me so much in his appearance and mannerisms of a friend of mine. Won’t say which. (Brett, he reminds me of Collin. Think you’re the only one who knows who that is that’s reading this)
It’s been fun though. We went driving through the countryside of Maccelsfield and Buxton today and it was absolutely gorgeous. It was the England I wanted to see. The rolling hills with walls around all the fields and the foot paths all over. We took a stop at a chapel near Buxton just passed Bottom of the Alphabet called Jenkin Chapel where a scene from Pride and Prejudice was shot. It was remarkably old and remarkably still in use.
Last night we went out with Chris and about four of his friends. It was quite fun. Bethany got scolded by the bar maid. Ask her about it.
Went into Manchester today with Bea and John. Did a fair bit of shopping at Selfridges (bought you something, Lindsay). Then met up with Chris and went to dinner.
Back at the house now, watching Hot Fuzz. Simon Pegg. So good to be in the land of Simon Pegg. He was on the Sunday Night Project last night (which was a rerun obviously) and Simon Pegg was on it. Great, eh?
I should say more, but my thoughts aren’t too reasonable. But I will say that if I lived in this country I’d want to live i an area like the one we’re in now. Didn’t much care for what I’ve seen of London. I love the rolling country and the wonderful places to walk and just smell the air. I could barely stop smiling today at the beauty of it all. And John with his constant fun fact commentary of history and interesting grand details.
A Broad Abroad 