Writing » Sean Durham

Blog Post 31/31 and The Stuff of Community

Chapters, life is epic, Writing 3 Responses »

Jul 312010

I did it.

I freaking did it. 31 days, 31 blogs.

I’ll admit, some came easily. The ideas kind of folded me into themselves and it was all I could do to write fast enough to stay with the current. Other days were calm waters; no wind, no waves. I’m really proud of some of the posts – and some of them were written with one eye closed totally drunk with sleep.

I’ve talked about it before, but writing is the best way I know how to sort my self out. Maybe psychologists and counselors should have their patients write – about anything, consistently for a week straight. My guess is that they’d come back a week later with a journal full of understanding and never need to spend any more time on the couch. It’s a funny dynamic but I never know what I truly think until I write it down. I might have some ideas about an issue or some amorphous understanding of a concept, but in writing it down the image takes shape, the scales fall off and I can see where I truly stand in myself. Until it becomes black words on a white page, I can’t take any ownership of it.

Blogging every day is a strange thing. It’s not as though I’ve got a true “theme” or hobby to write about. I’m not reporting on anything, so what comes out are just ideas that have bounced between my skin long enough to materialize into groups of words and spaces. Writing a blog every day means that I spend quite awhile in my own head; It demands a lot of introspection is what I’m saying. But self-inspection is a really good thing, It’s good to reach into the river sometimes and see what kind of mud we’re made of.

But it’s tough, too. The deadline comes quicker than it should and most nights find me in a hasty fit of last-minute edits and revisions and fanatically praying for better words. Then, they come or they don’t and I hit publish anyway. Writing is a high-maintainence lover and I never know where our relationship stands.

But the best part about posting every day is not the writing itself. It isn’t the genesis of an idea and it isn’t the rhythm it brought into my life, though those things are definitely good. It’s the fact that I could chisel away at some kind of idea until it became cogent enough for me to stand beside, and someone would read it. The stuff of community. I would write and you would read and we became equal partners in the same conversation. And I’m so glad for the times that any of those words resonated with you.

So… what now?

What now is I keep writing. And so do you. Every day, as much as we can because the fight we’re in requires regular engagement. With school and work and obligations that demand so much of our hearts, it’s imperative that we take time to sort ourselves out. I’m going to be writing and posting (at least) 3 times a week - Monday, Wednesday and Friday starting this week. In truth, I’m a little (a lot) scared that you won’t keep reading – maybe you read my blog only because you’re secretly praying for my failure, or maybe you find some value here, but I’m a little worried that my posting three times a week is four times too few.

So I’m praying about it and I’ll keep hoping that better words are coming. Or maybe I’ll trust Him and know that they will.

Thank you for sharing this Chapter with me. What do we do next?

A War Without Edits

sean durham, stream of consciousness, Writing 1 Response »

Jul 232010

Writing from the safety of some furtive lookout, I watch the war. Though I’m safe, perched in a kind lookout high in a swaying tree I hear the battle below me; feel the word’s echoes. There’s some lines of action mounting, throwing charges at the accusation. Apathy and empathy at arms.

Ego and transparency, on some distant hill fighting their own distant war.

Maybe writing is important if only to watch as the war between the “what-if” and the “what-now” unfolds itself onto the drama of some pages. It’s here where I sort things out, where I’m cleverer than I was hours ago. Where I’m better than I should be but always as strong as I am.

Stop Tweeting, Start Writing

Chapters, Healing, sean durham, Uncategorized, Writing 2 Responses »

Jul 222010

I love Twitter. I love the community of it, I love the fact that it’s about what you produce, rather than what you consume. I think it’s approximately 250% better than Facebook. I love it because it’s tough to fake it. Gone are the ambiguously angular MySpace mirror shots, and thank God you can’t Photoshop your Tweets. It’s content driven, it’s value driven.

But the best part of Twitter (or even blogs) is also the most dangerous. The accessibility, relative freedom and community built into Twitter and blogging platforms generates a brilliant and supportive network of acquaintances who can be instantly communicated with. And, because you’re limited to 140 characters, it’s pretty instant for the reader too. Our thoughts (our hearts) are folded into the fetal position and crammed into the trunk of a speeding Buick – Soprano style, and it’s awesome.

But I think the gratification we get from posting something we’re particularly proud of and instantly sharing it with our network can, if left unchecked, set unreasonable expectations for our art.

To an (arguably) lesser extent, Blogs are the same way. You write, I read. I comment and we’re all made happy because:

1) You got to write. (labor)

2) I got to read. (release)

3) I responded. (engagement)

4) You were made aware of the impact of your writing. (gratification)

Writing everyday this month has been one of the best things I’ve ever done (no hyperbole). And some of the conversations I’ve been involved in are absolutely invaluable. I’m truly, completely honored that, given the thousands (millions) of better blogs out there, you chose to stop by and read these words. Seriously, thank you.

So please understand, I’m a HUGE fan of Twitter and blogs. I find profound value in reading and participating in each community.

I read tweets all day from my brilliant friends. Honestly, there’s BOOKS in there. There’s films, screenplays, inventions, theological proofs. There’s enterprises and businesses and messages and sermons packed neatly into a hasty catharsis, and released into the wild. Literally, I have friends who can stuff more meaning into 140 characters than I could into 140 pages. I’m lucky to know some radiant people. It’s heartbreaking to see us chisel a thought into a masterpiece only to release only it to the raised-eyebrows of impressed friends.

Community support is good, so good. And I’m not saying that we shouldn’t keep encouraging each other – we should. I’m not going to stop.

But what I’m scared of is leaving it there. What if the poem never gets written? The business never started? The dream never taken? The life never lived. The danger is in allowing pithy pontification and a few labored lines to serve as a substitute for real transformative action. Real, substantial healing.

What I’m not asking you to do is stop tweeting, I’m asking you to start writing.

I’m saying we should stop talking. I’m saying we should start living.

Five Blogs you should Be Reading

sean durham, Thoughts, Writing 5 Responses »

Jul 212010

I love blogs. I read a lot of them, I write in some. Here’s a list of some of my favorites.

Donald Miller’s Blog

You don’t have to cruise around my blog for too long to know that I pretty much love this guy. There’s a 100% chance that I pretty much just want to be him. (Still trying to make that sentence sound less creepy.) I wrote before that “Most days, I alternate between wanting to write exactly like him and trying to make sure I don’t” and it’s still true. I read Blue Like Jazz in a season of incredible doubt and discouragement, reading it was a kind of gift, the timing couldn’t have been any better. Miller’s blog is updated all the time with stuff that I’m sure will find its way into coming books. He’s generous in sharing his stories; they’re as honest as they are compelling. I hope to have coffee with the guy one day. For now, I’ll settle for him having replied to one of my tweets and being jealous of a friend I have who works for his foundation. He’s living an amazing story – his blogs inspire me to do the same. And there’s an occasional typo, which I appreciate enormously.

Stuff Christians Like

If I believed in some kind of “early-adopter” social point system (are people really proud of these things?), I’d get a few for this one. It’s written by Jon Acuff, and I’ve been reading it since it was actually a blogspot and “Stuff” was actually spelled with three “f’s” (stufff) because, I guess, someone already took stuffchristianslike.blogspot.com – either way, it’s is a sometimes hilarious, most-times poignant blog written almost exclusively for Christians who have some semblance of a Christian upbringing. It’s turned into a book published by Zondervan and Acuff has been speaking a bunch of cool conferences. He writes about Breaking up after Church Camp, Christians Converting other Christians, Metrosexual Worship Leaders, and other things Christians do to invite good-natured ribbing. Maybe the thing I love most about SCL is its balance of satire without straying into smarm. I’m growing to hate the smarm, and irony is exhausting.

Seth Godin

I haven’t heard of anyone as prolific as Seth Godin, seriously. He publishes pithy, brilliant blogs almost everyday. He’s got the kind of insight that comes from leading the charge, rather than predicting the trend. He’s almost Zen-like in his clarity, like the Phil Jackson of business. I’ve read a few books by him; he says it’s OK to be an artist, and I believe him. If you’re young in your career – any career – read Linchpin, I’ll buy you Chipotle if it doesn’t change the way you engage. Godin seems like a pretty private dude, doesn’t share too many personal anecdotes, so I’ve created for him a story in which he just sits around all day typing with one hand while his other concentrates on fervently rubbing his crazy bald head to keep the genius flowing – all the while collecting a (probably substantial) percentage of the profits of his multiple companies. I’m probably not that far off, I have a way of knowing these things.

The Art Of Manliness

OK – I admit to being almost embarrassed to list this one. Actually, I’m not. Actually, I’ve got one of their shirts in the mail. This is just a rad site. Its got everything from Boxing Tips to How to Stop Living for the Approval of Women to Learning How to Shave like your Grandfather . One of my favorite bits is the “So You Want My Job” series, where they interview dudes in rad jobs. Part of me (most of me) wants to create the Christian equivalent of this site. You probably don’t have to be a man to enjoy this one, but then again, I wouldn’t really know that.

Zen Habits

There’s a growing movement of minimalism, and from what I can find, Leo Babauta is leading it. As our generation begins the work of rebuilding the American ideal, lots of us are disillusioned by the excess that characterized most of my American perspective. America has been a heavy-laden ship for so long, it’s time to toss overboard the stuff we don’t need. If materialism is what got us into this mess, minimalism is the only appropriate response. Zen Habits has a ton of great resources, and Babauta has another great blog, the aptly titled mnmlist.com chiefly (obviously) focused on minimalism – and a healthy disdain for vowels, which I also share. For writers, he’s started Write To Done – a good resource for the inevitably necessary “cold-glass-of-water-in-the-face” I too-often need in order to get anything done.

- Obviously, you might not have the same confusing array of interests as I do (boxing tips and loving Jesus?) but I’m sure you’ll find value somewhere in any or all of the blogs.

What did I miss? What blogs are you reading lately?

Why do I Keep Writing?

coffeeshop, life is epic, Thoughts, Writing 4 Responses »

Jul 072010

First, I want to say thank you sincerely to anyone who’s been reading these dumb words every night. Seriously. I almost know who exactly you are (Google analytics has pretty much increased my lurking tenfold.) The Internet is awash with every kind of talent; I cant thank you enough for spending even a second with these words. I realize it’s now only the seventh day of this chapter, but writing every single night has been such a beautiful burden.

A coworker today, checking in on this month’s progress, asked how I’d been doing. She asked delicately, as if asking a burn victim, afraid to touch his skin. I think maybe that she was afraid that all of the introspection had made me too sensitive.

But almost the opposite is true. Spending time writing had been absolutely amazing, I suspect the same is true for anyone sweating through the difficult labor of pursuing their passions. And it has been tough, but necessary and good for so many reasons.

1) I get to be alone. For the most part, writing is a pretty solitary indulgence. But it’s a good one. I’ve spent hours this week at coffeeshops, my face twisted in frustration, adjusting the rabbit ears of my soul, trying to channel my inner-Don Miller. Writing offers me an escape from interruption, a kind of meditation and a way to connect to something bigger than myself – even if for only a few minutes.

2) I get to sort myself out. And It’s a strange process, writing is. Most of the time it’s the kind of persecution I’d employ if i were trying to learn my enemy’s secrets. But sometimes, That enemy is me and it’s my knots that need undoing.

3) Writing brings you into the other. There’s a profound elemental mystery in writing. In our small, human way, it’s a way to speak something into nothing; participate in a tangibly divine act. Forcing the immaterial into the immediate material. It always changes something. And, in a world where apathy is expected. I’m ok with that.

So, thats why I do it, or at least this week it is. What about you? Why do you write?

On Writing and Age Wrinkles

life is epic, sean durham, Writing 5 Responses »

May 122010

I love writing and I hate writing. The two feelings are constantly throwing house parties in some emotional apartment my logic is never invited to. Like opposing pistons charging wildly into the same cylinder or two bulls in the same pen. They collide with force and drama and certainty. With writing specifically, as much as God teaches me through it, it’s never good enough to show anyone – and so it stays unpublished, entombed and unfinished. It is for me, catharsis and chaos in equal measure.

But maybe writing is more like life, people can forgive an imperfect word or a bad paragraph as long as there’s a beauty to the whole. All of our words are like lines and wrinkles drawn into an aging face – they make us, us. Different, weak, broken, strong, but recognized and loved, not in spite of them, but because of them. It’s different, how God works, how he stands with stretched arms signaling the beginning of a better story; offering strength and peace in the middle of weakness and chaos.

So our worst days become a kind of necessary punctuation. They link the elements in our stories; pauses in our prose.

And our best days are the secret and soaring poems we only tell to our favorite people.

Our stories are made beautiful because they’re written with the stuff of the bad days and the dignity of the good days. And like that, maybe we’re supposed to accept the imperfect words because we know that better words are coming, and sometimes, in the best times, they come quicker than we’d hoped. Or sometimes we have to dig and bleed to find them. But we always find them. And always when we need them.

Maybe we are all writers who have already been written into a story full of labored sentences and the right amount of poetry. We just need someone to read it and tell us to keep writing.

So, write it, whatever it is. Write the bad words until the good ones come. Change your life. Start your life. End your old life. Get a better job. Get a better boyfriend. Hit “publish.” If we trust that the whole of the story is beautiful a one, we can’t really fail. Let the worst of you become a kind of period that doesn’t just end a bad sentence, it signals the beginning of a new one, a better one.

Maybe it’s time to trust that the words will come. Maybe it’s time to let Him write and know that they will.

Live in love and let the world know why.

life is epic, sean durham, Thoughts, Writing 2 Responses »

Apr 262010

I met a woman while shopping tonight. Well, by “met” I mean she checked me out and bagged my items. And by “shopping” I mean… Ok I was at Wal-Mart.

Debra was her name, I wanted to ask if she shortened it from “Deborah” – to rid herself of the baggage that comes with unnecessary consonants. “That’s very phonetic of you” I wanted to say. But I didn’t.

On her vest, next to “Debra” was a much more prominent pin that spelled “JESUS” in jewels. Probably Bedazzled, if I had to guess. I wondered if management ever confronted her regarding the amount of real estate it claimed on her vest. I wondered what Debra would tell them if they had. But I suppose no one would mistakenly call her Jesus instead of Debra.

I was fourth or so in line and as I studied Debra I’d hear her salutation as she finished with each customer’s process. “Blessings” she’d say to one. Or “have a blessed night” to another. As my turn approached I speculated about what she’d tell me, like a man entering a doctor’s office or fortune teller’s….tent.

“Maybe Debra knows.” – was everything I could think. “She knows I lied at work today.” or “Look at this white boy, down in the ghetto looking for deals on whey protein and power steering fluid.” I’d not yet spoken a word to Debra, but I was desperate for her endorsement.

The register beeped a cold digital rhythm as she processed my goods. Some car stuff, some wine I’d bought for $7.24 just to make a statement (I’d seen the same bottle sell for $30.00 a day earlier.) the aforementioned whey protein and some various necessities. They scanned through and I broke the silence.

“How’s your night going?” I asked, a hint of sheepishness cracked my lips.

“It’s great.” She said, all teeth and smile. “I’d never complain. Did you just come from the gym?” – I had indeed, and I was ecstatic that she had sent my conversational serve back over the net.

“It’s a beautiful night” she continued. “That’ll be $36.42.”

I’d walked in 20 minutes earlier lamenting the fact that I was entering a Wal-Mart; even more disappointed in the fact that I even live near the low-price leader. If I’m honest, I felt superior to the situation; that my lot in life was certainly higher than congregating around pregnant teens and poor families and discount groceries.

But Debra, who pinned the name of Jesus to her breast as an announcement of identity; used every opportunity to speak Love into each pregnant teen and poor family that came through her line. I don’t have to visit again to know that everybody who chooses her lane will receive the same benediction. In the best way possible (through love) it confronted me with the opportunities (or opportunities I miss) each day to speak love into someone’s life. Not only love, but Love – in the name of Jesus. Straight up.

That’s the goal of our lives isn’t it? The great commission and all of that. To live in love, and let the world know why. There’s some kind of perfection in every single minute and I want to live truly and lean into these minutes like favorite poems or tall, swaying trees.

I swiped my card and entered my PIN number. Debra handed me the receipt.

“Be blessed” she told my eyes.

And I was.

On Writing

fake your death, life is epic, sean durham, Writing 4 Responses »

Jan 042010

Okay. I’ll do it.

I’ve given myself permission to write. And it’s terrifying.

And here’s my promise. I’ll only write from the deep part; the true part.

I remember that old myth before it was ruined by medical shows or friends in nursing school; the old yarn that told us our blood was actually blue while in our body, and only turns red when exposed to oxygen. Writing for me is proving that myth false or else watching my blue blood become red. My skin is cold and dry so I’ll have to dig into the deep veins. I’m learning life is not best lived from the deep parts.

It’s only lived from the deep parts. We are orphans anywhere else.

I’ve had some kind of affair with writing for a few years now. Some days, I’m gifted. Some days, I wonder if maybe English was my second language. Most days, though, writing feels like owing money to God. He’s a big benevolent bill collector and upon non-payment His whispers become wails, and his chasing becomes chastising. Honestly, it feels terrible to ignore God. But it’s beautiful, because it’s nothing like guilt.

It feels something like being shipped off to a foreign country where the language sounds familiar, but it’s not. You get by for awhile with lots of nodding and pointing, but ultimately you’re left hungry and can’t find the bathroom. Writing has felt much this way for me. It’s been both catharsis and chaos. But it’s good, and it’s important and I have to believe in it.

I guess this is how I know that God is good; that we are pursued by our desires, we are hunted by passions. To me, this begs the existence of some kind of adventurous, persistent, desiring and beautiful creator who travels unreasonable distances to display something profound, leaving us surrendered and exhausted, arrested and whole.

So this year, I will write. It feels a little like dancing and fighting at the same time, but I really hope you will read it. And while I hope it’s more dancing than fighting, I have to go where the blood is.

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