One of my favorite topics to explore is beauty. Not in regard to the most recent trends, but rather, how we define, "beauty". I am so curious to understand the different ways humanity has defined it historically, throughout decades and in different nations, and how those definitions have shaped how we define beauty today. The other morning I read the following in my devotional, "Morning & Evening" by Charles Spurgeon; it is too beautiful to not share.
"I am the rose of Sharon." –Song of Solomon 2: 1
"Whatever there may be of beauty in the material world, Jesus Christ possesses all that in the spiritual world in a tenfold degree. Amongst flowers the rose is deemed the sweetest, but Jesus is infinitely more beautiful in the garden of the soul than the rose can be in the gardens of earth. He takes the first place as the fairest among ten thousand. He is the sun, and all others are the stars; the heavens and the day are dark in comparison with Him, for the King in His beauty transcends all. "I am the rose of Sharon." This was the best and rarest of roses. Jesus is not "the rose" alone, He is "the rose of Sharon," just as He calls His righteousness "gold," and then adds, "the gold of Ophir"—the best of the best. He is positively lovely, and superlatively the loveliest. There is variety in His charms. The rose is delightful to the eye, and its scent is pleasant and refreshing; so each of the senses of the soul, whether it be the taste or feeling, the hearing, the sight, or the spiritual smell, finds appropriate gratification in Jesus. Even the recollection of His love is sweet. Take the rose of Sharon, and pull it leaf from leaf. and lay by the leaves in the jar of memory, and you shall find each leaf fragrant long afterward, filling the house with perfume. Christ satisfies the highest taste of the most educated spirit to the very full. The greatest amateur in perfumes is quite satisfied with the rose: and when the soul has arrived at her highest pitch of true taste, she shall still be content with Christ, nay, she shall be the better able to appreciate Him. Heaven itself possesses nothing which excels the rose of Sharon. What emblem can fully set forth His beauty? Human speech and earth-born things fail to tell of Him. Earth's choicest charms commingled, feebly picture His abounding preciousness. Blessed rose, bloom in my heart for ever!"
Saturday, May 2, 2020
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Versailles of our time
My curiosity is to unpack the modern societal definition of beauty and it's impact upon individuals; to fully understand it requires understanding where it came from. Enter, fashion history.
I am specifically interested in understanding how our definition and perception of beauty impact our reality, and ultimately, our mental health. I believe that education can shift our perspective, and when we shift our perspective, we can change our reality; we can change our life.
My reality when I was caught in the eating disorder was one that mirrored the court of Versailles; straining to fit and conforming to the whims of the monarchy of our time. I moved according to the direction of the trends and felt like an imposter waiting to be found out and exiled from court. This state of fear was homeostasis for me.
I am specifically interested in understanding how our definition and perception of beauty impact our reality, and ultimately, our mental health. I believe that education can shift our perspective, and when we shift our perspective, we can change our reality; we can change our life.
My reality when I was caught in the eating disorder was one that mirrored the court of Versailles; straining to fit and conforming to the whims of the monarchy of our time. I moved according to the direction of the trends and felt like an imposter waiting to be found out and exiled from court. This state of fear was homeostasis for me.
More of us
'“Fashion is to France what the gold mines of Peru are to Spain,” declared Louis XIV’s minister of finance, Jean-Baptiste Colbert. The statement may be apocryphal, but already by the 1670s, fashion and luxury goods were a source of wealth and “soft power” for the French state. The splendor of the French royal court at Versailles contributed greatly to French fashion prestige — or what critics called “French fashion hegemony over Europe.”'
This quote is from the virtual exhibition, PARIS: Capital of Fashion, at The Museum at FIT, from the section titled, Splendor of the Royal Court. The exhibition concluded on January 4 of this year, which is utterly exciting to me, because after all this time—I mean, French fashion is timeless, so my decade long pause would not make my research obsolete—it is fascinating to find so many people interested in exploring the history of fashion. I light up finding any reference of Louis XIV and find it encouraging to stumble upon others who are exploring his life in regard to the start of fashion as we define it in western culture. We're still a fairly rare breed, those drawn to fashion history, as I just learned from Valerie Steele that fashion is still considered frivolous in academia, but still, there's a handful of us out here.
This quote is from the virtual exhibition, PARIS: Capital of Fashion, at The Museum at FIT, from the section titled, Splendor of the Royal Court. The exhibition concluded on January 4 of this year, which is utterly exciting to me, because after all this time—I mean, French fashion is timeless, so my decade long pause would not make my research obsolete—it is fascinating to find so many people interested in exploring the history of fashion. I light up finding any reference of Louis XIV and find it encouraging to stumble upon others who are exploring his life in regard to the start of fashion as we define it in western culture. We're still a fairly rare breed, those drawn to fashion history, as I just learned from Valerie Steele that fashion is still considered frivolous in academia, but still, there's a handful of us out here.
Love notes: chaos, misspelling, and gems
Sifting through my blogs is like finding a box full of love notes. There is some chaos, there's some misspelling, and there are gems. It's as if my current self went back in time, gave myself a note, and posted it here for me to find—words that I needed to hear at this moment in time, and didn't understand back then.
I was so young, and I thought that I had gotten it all wrong. It highlights to me the fact that I need to not think that way now. I have certainly made mistakes, and it's okay to mourn that, but we have so much ahead, not just in this life, but the next. So much is yet to come, Dearheart.
One of the gems...
I was so young, and I thought that I had gotten it all wrong. It highlights to me the fact that I need to not think that way now. I have certainly made mistakes, and it's okay to mourn that, but we have so much ahead, not just in this life, but the next. So much is yet to come, Dearheart.
One of the gems...
The Awakening
(Author unknown)
A time comes in your life when you finally get…when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out…ENOUGH1 Enough fighting and crying and blaming and struggling to hold on. Then, like a child quieting down after a tantrum, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.
This is your awakening.
You realize it’s time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety and security to magically appear over the next horizon.
You realize that in the real world there aren’t always fairy tale endings, and that any guarantee of “happily ever after” must begin with you…and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.
You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are…and that’s OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions.
You learn the importance of loving and championing yourself…and in the process a sense of new found confidence is born of self-approval.
Your stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you – or didn’t do for you – and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.
You learn that people don’t always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and everything isn’t always about you.
So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself…and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.
You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties…and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.
You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. You begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you’ve outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with.
You learn that there is power and glory in creating and contributing and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a “consumer” looking for you next fix.
You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era, but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.
You learn that you don’t know everything, it’s not you job to save the world and that you can’t teach a pig to sing. You learn the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.
Then you learn about love. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You learn that alone does not mean lonely.
You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.
You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs.
You learn that your body really is your temple. You begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drinking more water, and take more time to exercise.
You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. And, just food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you deserve, and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different than working toward making it happen.
More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You learn that no one can do it all alone, and that it’s OK to risk asking for help.
You learn the only thing you must truly fear is fear itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms.
You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.
You learn that life isn’t always fair, you don’t always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people…and you lean not to always take it personally.
You learn that nobody’s punishing you and everything isn’t always somebody’s fault. It’s just life happening. You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls.
You lean that negative feelings such as anger, envy and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.
Then, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than you heart’s desire.
You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.
You hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind.
Finally, with courage in you heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best as you can.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
A decade, won
It has been quite some time since I've been here. One month shy of a decade. Time, it's a strange thing. Coming back here it is as if time itself has stood still and yet, it is as though I have lived ten lifetimes in-between.
There has been love, loss, a corporate job, a move to Hawaii, a humble move home, marriage, first home, first dog, and just about as many mistakes and blessings as you can expect from ten years of life in one's twenties.
So, why am I here? Beautiful question. This was the blog I started—when blogging first began, before social media!—during my senior year in college at the University of Washington in my capstone class for Design. Here we were to record our research and provide a window into our process for our professor and our colleagues; our inquiries, struggles, and victories—all right here.
But why am I here, now? Well, my passion for this topic, the topic of beauty and identity, has not waned, not one bit; it has only deepened, and I can't shake the call on my heart to pursue it. I am still am not sure what form it will take, or what I will do with it—I wrestled with this in college and here we are still ten wild years later, still unsure. But, I am sure of one thing, that I absolutely can't put it down.
I see now that it is far too important, far too relevant, and that God did too big a work in my life for me to shelter it alone. My purpose aches to pursue this. I often find myself frustrated thinking about the "lost time" but what happened during that time was rather a fortifying of my heart, mind, and soul upon a brand new foundation that had to be rebuilt from the ground up.
Ten years ago was the start of my journey out of anorexia. On my way out, I took the door that led to bulimia. From there I broke out only to land in a hallway of self-hatred. In the midst of that corridor is where I finally fought like hell to find my way to self-worth. This fight was instigated only by looking into the face of potential motherhood, and realizing that in order to be the mother I hope to be, I have to be the woman God made me to be. Looking into the eyes of motherhood, I realized I had not gotten there. Despite the decade I spent wrestling with identity and all the newfound courage I claimed to have, the mental tangles went all the way down to the base of my foundation—we were being broken down to be rebuilt, and we weren't done yet.
This is not a past-tense process, this is present-day tussle right here, and rather than shelter it, I wanted to bring it to light. I feel required to put it to words because it is not my story alone, it is but one more beautiful story of God's redemption in the making. You are welcome here, and I am glad, whoever you are, that you're joining me in the process.
There has been love, loss, a corporate job, a move to Hawaii, a humble move home, marriage, first home, first dog, and just about as many mistakes and blessings as you can expect from ten years of life in one's twenties.
So, why am I here? Beautiful question. This was the blog I started—when blogging first began, before social media!—during my senior year in college at the University of Washington in my capstone class for Design. Here we were to record our research and provide a window into our process for our professor and our colleagues; our inquiries, struggles, and victories—all right here.
But why am I here, now? Well, my passion for this topic, the topic of beauty and identity, has not waned, not one bit; it has only deepened, and I can't shake the call on my heart to pursue it. I am still am not sure what form it will take, or what I will do with it—I wrestled with this in college and here we are still ten wild years later, still unsure. But, I am sure of one thing, that I absolutely can't put it down.
I see now that it is far too important, far too relevant, and that God did too big a work in my life for me to shelter it alone. My purpose aches to pursue this. I often find myself frustrated thinking about the "lost time" but what happened during that time was rather a fortifying of my heart, mind, and soul upon a brand new foundation that had to be rebuilt from the ground up.
Ten years ago was the start of my journey out of anorexia. On my way out, I took the door that led to bulimia. From there I broke out only to land in a hallway of self-hatred. In the midst of that corridor is where I finally fought like hell to find my way to self-worth. This fight was instigated only by looking into the face of potential motherhood, and realizing that in order to be the mother I hope to be, I have to be the woman God made me to be. Looking into the eyes of motherhood, I realized I had not gotten there. Despite the decade I spent wrestling with identity and all the newfound courage I claimed to have, the mental tangles went all the way down to the base of my foundation—we were being broken down to be rebuilt, and we weren't done yet.
This is not a past-tense process, this is present-day tussle right here, and rather than shelter it, I wanted to bring it to light. I feel required to put it to words because it is not my story alone, it is but one more beautiful story of God's redemption in the making. You are welcome here, and I am glad, whoever you are, that you're joining me in the process.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Mirror, mirror; me
Amidst the looming stress around me, I have a sense of peace. I do believe that everything is going to be all right. I feel a separation from all that I have been grasping onto; the identity that I once adhered to, is quickly fading.
My first steps on this road began when I began to explore my identity. This project has taken me down a road that I have been longing to travel, yet have been afraid to explore. During these past few months, I realize that I have been running away from myself. For nine years, I have been avoiding the recognition of my own identity. I have been searching and striving to find the perfect version of myself, the ideal representation of self, the one that will be best accepted by society, and even, by the ones I love. Blonde to brunette, side-swept to full bangs, unmarked skin to a tattoo, shy to comfortable, afraid to peace—so many changes are taking place since the decision to return to me.
Who have I been trying to be—what identities have I been adopting; what have I been hiding behind?
I realize I have been living in fear. I have been harboring a deep fear that came as a result of my fragile existence behind the facades I created. I was constantly afraid they were transparent, so I kept running, striving, pretending, out of fear that if I paused too long, people might actually see me, or if someone came too close they would see behind that which I used to hide. I was a scared soul, afraid of myself, trying to fool the outside world. And all the while, deceiving myself.
Where did this come from? For nine years, I have been here, or I have been there, successfully hiding from myself, existing, camouflaged in the world. I am beginning to experience freedom and peace as I slowly return to myself. "Love your neighbor as yourself," I realize I need to love myself as a neighbor, as I have been under the influence, and unable to see, me as I am, fearing that others will judge me just as harshly as I judge myself.
How did this all begin—why did I start hiding? I initiated the fabrication of this facade in junior high. This was the time when I became self-aware, and it was the time that held the initial creation of the internal image I have been comparing myself to. Like most American junior-high-age girls, I developed an image that defined beauty. Beauty to me looked like my friend—Lauren R; the tall, skinny, blonde, outgoing, athletic, cheerleader, who captured the hearts of every boy in our class. I can now admit, I wanted to be her—or at least look just like her. But I did not. I was short, not incredibly thin, brunette, with bangs, and shy. I was the opposite of her, yet we shared the same name. She, in my mind, was the beautiful Lauren, and I was the other.
Validating this perspective of what I was beginning to believe was the idealization of beauty, were the fashion magazines that I allowed to saturate my life. Recognizing a consistent definition of beauty that surfaced amongst the various publications, I adopted the belief that the social ideal was one that aligned with the characteristics of my friend. I did not possess anything that remotely aligned with this definition of beauty, and therefore, grew to despise my appearance, and slowly, my entire self.
The transformation began. My mission to achieve beauty began the summer before I began sixth grade. I was determined to be beautiful, and this meant that much needed to change. I was going to be attractive, and therefore, I was going to be blonde, I was going to be tan, I was going to be thin—I was going to become the beautiful Lauren.
Nine years I have been working to maintain this identity, fooling the world and disguising myself. For nine years I have been striving to uphold this image of beauty until I realized what I had been struggling to uphold, and upon deciding to let go, I am watching it shatter.
----
Recently, I made the decision to begin the long walk home. I have awoken to the realization that I had been running away from myself, avoiding the recognition of who I am. I feel as though I had been held in captivity, under the intoxicating influence of the fashion industry, and the definition of beauty that is communicated. This definition was one that I did not naturally fit, and therefore felt irrelevant, and which led to a deteriorated sense of self. This project and the research I have been conducting for the past six months has been a restorative journey for my soul.
----
I am once again brunette. I once again have bangs. I am not struggling to be this person I am not—I am no longer being crushed by the weight of the false definition I have been trying to live into. I am defining my own.
It is easier now, to get dressed each morning, as I am not trying to pick the perfect costume to hide behind, I am simply dressing for the role of myself. I ask myself who I am, and wait for the answer. The voices are beginning to quiet, and I am listening to my heart—to the definition of beauty in which God has created me.
----
I had the realization this past week, that my capstone project will not change the world. I can not break the entire system of monarchy we live within; I can not liberate our nation from the control. But, I can choose to be free. I can step into anarchy and choose to fight against the dictatorial control that I have allowed the fashion industry to have upon my life.
I may not be able to change the world with this project, but it has changed mine.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Storybook beginning
Again. Another change. Again, I have developed a new idea. This is the challenge I combat that so often prevents me from moving forward. This indecisive mind that sees possibility, and this passionate soul that sprints so quickly in the new direction, and these eyes that are intrigued by all that is around me.
My most recent and exciting change was inspired by the film, American Beauty. I have realized that the issue I am combating is so much larger than something a poster will impact. I want to encourage people to think, but I do not feel prepared to put this into the world yet. The most powerful thing I think I can do right now is to collect and record all that I have been researching, observing and inquiring about during these past few months.
I am going to make a book.
I want to tell a story—I want to reveal the stronghold that the messages communicated by the fashion industry have upon our society and the power they have in shaping our definition of beauty. I have been impacted so intensely by this research, that I want to write a book that records my thoughts and findings.
I was beginning to lose heart, with the realization that my guerilla marketing campaign was not going to be enough to change the world.
This, I am passionate about.
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