inside an open box

I don’t like putting myself – or other people – in boxes.

Yet I have a strange fascination for personality tests.

I’m not sure how to reconcile these two quirks. Perhaps the best way is to admit that while personality definitions are enlightening, they can never fully describe a person since we are all different and, I think, all a combination of every personality “type.” That said, I recently took this Myers-Briggs test and was told I’m a Counselor, or INFJ. The definition of INFJ is:

Idealist Portrait of the Counselor (INFJ)

Counselors have an exceptionally strong desire to contribute to the welfare of others, and find great personal fulfillment interacting with people, nurturing their personal development, guiding them to realize their human potential. Although they are happy working at jobs (such as writing) that require solitude and close attention, Counselors do quite well with individuals or groups of people, provided that the personal interactions are not superficial, and that they find some quiet, private time every now and then to recharge their batteries. Counselors are both kind and positive in their handling of others; they are great listeners and seem naturally interested in helping people with their personal problems. Not usually visible leaders, Counselors prefer to work intensely with those close to them, especially on a one-to-one basis, quietly exerting their influence behind the scenes.

Counselors are scarce, little more than one percent of the population, and can be hard to get to know, since they tend not to share their innermost thoughts or their powerful emotional reactions except with their loved ones. They are highly private people, with an unusually rich, complicated inner life. Friends or colleagues who have known them for years may find sides emerging which come as a surprise. Not that Counselors are flighty or scattered; they value their integrity a great deal, but they have mysterious, intricately woven personalities which sometimes puzzle even them.

Counselors tend to work effectively in organizations. They value staff harmony and make every effort to help an organization run smoothly and pleasantly. They understand and use human systems creatively, and are good at consulting and cooperating with others. As employees or employers, Counselors are concerned with people’s feelings and are able to act as a barometer of the feelings within the organization.

Blessed with vivid imaginations, Counselors are often seen as the most poetical of all the types, and in fact they use a lot of poetic imagery in their everyday language. Their great talent for language-both written and spoken-is usually directed toward communicating with people in a personalized way. Counselors are highly intuitive and can recognize another’s emotions or intentions – good or evil – even before that person is aware of them. Counselors themselves can seldom tell how they came to read others’ feelings so keenly. This extreme sensitivity to others could very well be the basis of the Counselor’s remarkable ability to experience a whole array of psychic phenomena.

Mohandas Gandhi, Sidney Poitier, Eleanor Roosevelt, Jane Goodall, Emily Bronte, Sir Alec Guiness, Carl Jung, Mary Baker Eddy, Queen Noor are examples of the Counselor Idealist (INFJ).

Interesting. I’m not sure if I agree with all of it, but it does seem at least mostly accurate. As I get to know people, they tend to be surprised by the sides of my personality that emerge. Somehow, I tend to get stereotyped as “quiet and sweet,” and then meet amazement when it becomes apparent I’m not always those two things.

I struggled to answer the introversion/extroversion questions in the test because I love people, I love being around people, and I spend a fair amount of my free time with people. However, the type of interaction that energizes me is more likely to be having coffee and conversation with just one or a few friends, rather than hanging out with enormous groups (although at times I enjoy them, too). I also crave solitude as a time to recharge. So, I suppose I am an introvert, but I defy being boxed by the term.

The results say that INTJs do well with people, “provided the personal interactions are not superficial” – which is absolutely true of me. The conversations that energize me are the deeper ones. I love to be silly, too, though. (See? I don’t fit in the box. Especially not after all the food I ate today.)

Another interesting set of personality types are the ones named after four animals: the lion, the otter, the golden retriever, and the beaver. I’m almost all golden retriever, with a pinch of beaver. And probably some of the others, too, since we never fit in these boxes.

what defines us?

Yesterday I read an article about fiction writing on a writing blog I recently discovered. As someone who has written fiction in spurts for years, I could identify with the author’s sentiments – to some extent. I’ve never made writing the focus of my career, but there is a possibility that it will become more prominent in the future. This article exposed some insights about the writing life, and as I thought about one point in particular, I realized it could be applied to other types of creativity as well (music, art) – and even to one’s vocation.

First, she talks about what happens when a writer makes writing into her full-time job. Often, the writer clams up and is unable to produce anything because she feels the pressure: I have to write something, and it has to be good. There is nothing more paralyzing to art than perfectionism during the drafting stages. As a result of the creative “brain freeze,” the author says:

Then we berate ourselves for our lack of willpower, we call ourselves idiots; we feel like total failures, we regret the lost time, the lost chances to produce good work. But that part of our brain is older than we are, and it operates in a dark instinctive space that is beyond language or reason. If we back it into a corner, and make it think it’s fighting for its very survival, can we be surprised at how fiercely it drives us away? And that, once again, no writing gets done?

The point of the article is that writers seem to accomplish more and do better work when they can manage to put writing on the “sidelines” of their lives.

Having it on the sidelines, releasing ourselves from the pressure and burden of expectations, might be, ironically enough, one way of keeping our writing center stage. We do our work in the corner, nourish it and let it grow like a plant that only blooms in the dark. So much of writing seems to happen underground anyway, in the rich mysterious spaces of that parallel life where other lives get lived and life-or-death drama plays out while we run errands, make lunch for the kids, put in the time at the day job.

This relates to an earlier point she made: writers draw from their experiences. If we are to write well, we must experience life and continue to collect those experiences, whether it be through travel, other jobs, or friendships with a wide variety of people. My writing style today is drastically different from what it was before I lived overseas. It’s different from what it was before I went to college. Every experience has changed and shaped me as a person – and as a writer.

Writing fiction is serious business. It demands nothing less than everything you’ve got to give: your blood, sweat, heart and soul; your time; your ego. You expose yourself in your work and again when you show your work. It deserves to be taken seriously, and yet somehow we have to find a way to treat it lightly, hold it lightly, so it doesn’t slip away from us.

This is beautiful, mysterious, and true. And, I thought, isn’t it also true of other vocations? I know that, as a teacher, if I live my life as though teaching defines me as a person, then if I have a bad day, or realize I am not good at some aspect of teaching, it is horribly depressing. If I believe that being a teacher is my only reason for living, then being a bad teacher means I am failing at life. As a Christian, I recognize that as a lie. God loves me and defines me as His child apart from anything I do; realizing this frees me to do the best job I can without being so uptight about the results. My identity is not dependent on what I do, but on who I am.

Think of the creative freedom made possible by this realization. No more “stage fright,” whether on an actual stage, in the office, at the front of the classroom, or crafting sentences in Microsoft Word. We can be free to do great work if we abandon our egos, our individual reputations, and work because we are; because we can. Because God defines us as human beings, created by Him to create beautiful things.

is the grass always greener…

…on the other side of the ocean?

The Smoky Mountains: my computer backdrop when I moved to Germany.

The Black Forest near Wittlingen, Germany: my desktop background after moving back to the States.

When in Germany, I wanted a constant visual reminder of my beautiful Tennessee home. Now, back in Tennessee, I want to look at my computer every day and see Wittlingen, my other home. Am I always longing to be where I am not? Do I constantly wish for something I do not have?

Unfortunately, the answer to both of those questions is often “yes.” In this case, however, I think I’ve come to a good plateau of appreciating both places. I love both. Part of my heart is still in Europe, I confess it. But a large part of my heart is here – I might say a larger part. And that is how it should be. I’m invested here, and my roots grow a little deeper every day. Perhaps God will gently tug someday, unearthing those roots again to set them down in different soil. I can’t predict that, and I feel neutral about whether this remains “home” for the next two years or twenty-five.

But I do love this place. It’s beautiful here. And there are some happy similarities between the wooded Tennessee hills and the Black Forest of Germany.

to-do lists

I’m a list-maker. It’s the only thing that keeps me on track to accomplish tasks that must be done. Without a to-do list, tasks float nebulously above my head in a cloud, never getting accomplished because I don’t remember they’re there. When I grab them from the air, one by one, and pin them down on paper (or should I say pen them on paper? Pun alert!), I have means to remember and accomplish them.

But I have this problem with making lists. My lists are too long. I start a list that says “Saturday — To Do” and proceed to add fifteen items beneath the title. There is no way I can accomplish everything I tell myself I must do on a given day. So, at the end of the day, I shake my head and feel like a guilty procrastinator. Granted, sometimes I am a procrastinator…Okay, often I am. But the point remains that I set unreachable goals with my elaborate to-do lists, and then I hang my head in a persistent state of failure because I can’t fulfill the lists’ requirements.

The solution? I suppose it’s to make more feasible lists. This can be my project next week. I’ll put it on my to-do list: “Monday: Make to-do list with achievable goals.”

this is my brain on germs

I hate how sickness makes me so blah and unmotivated. One would think – or at least hope – that the disruption of my brain would make me more creative. Maybe if I had a fever, I would be. Past experience implies otherwise, though; when I have a fever, I am knocked flat for several days and feel as if I’ve been run over by a slow-moving tram. (No, I don’t know how it feels to be run over by a slow-moving tram, but I have a keen imagination.) Creative productivity, in that state, would be at a standstill. At least right now I can sit up and type, although my eyelids keep drooping.

Actually, I felt better today than I did yesterday, on the whole. When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t sure I could make it to work, but once I started moving, I felt better. The day went smoothly, my students accomplished a fair amount, and I was satisfied. Now I’m resting, thinking, and procrastinating…I have a lot more work to do on a project, and it would be infinitely better for me to do it now instead of waiting until the last minute, but unfortunately, procrastination is my lifelong enemy.

What happens to my brain function when I get sick? This time I started out with a bizarre dream, and the fun continues with general mental fuzziness. I had trouble reading aloud today (not because of the sore throat, which wasn’t hurting much anymore at the time); the words kept getting stuck in my mouth, and I replaced some words with others that weren’t there. Strange.

There are a few things I dislike about being sick – besides the headaches, constant sneezing, sinus drainage (eww!), and general malaise (I just love that phrase). There are some things I like about mild sickness, though. Here they are:

1. No stress. I just don’t have the energy to think about things, much less over-think them.

2. Drinking hot tea. With honey, yes.

3. Watching movies. Stress and guilt-free, without thinking of the things I could or should be doing instead…see No. 1.

4. Sometimes sickness-induced dreams and thoughts are very interesting, or at least amusing.

5. Mom’s chicken soup.

I could possibly think of more, but five is a nice, round, odd number. I hope you are well, but if you are not, may you find some comforts in your general malaise (sorry, I couldn’t resist using it again).

costumes, photos, and memories

Teri, Rachel, and me on Caesar salad hot lunch day. Hail Caesar.

Recently, I had a conversation with some friends about dressing up in costumes. We pretty much agreed that dressing up is fun, and that we miss doing it. I couldn’t help remembering the opportunities I had to dress in various costumes for different events when I worked at BFA. Tonight, I started browsing through old photos on Facebook. I only skimmed through the second year, but came up with a plethora of photos – and memories.

Wittlingen dorm's Famous Couples Night 2008. I'm on the far right; yes, Lucy from Peanuts.

Looking through just some of the photos on Facebook makes me remember how many more there are on CDs and stored in my computer. Lately I’ve been thinking that I want to make something – a scrapbook or two, I guess, although I am not the scrapbooking type – to tangibly document my memories. Having thousands of files on CDs does not seem thoughtful enough. It’s almost metaphorical (isn’t everything?): instead of processing my memories, choosing the best snapshots to include in a project that I can share with others, I burned all my memories onto discs and shoved them away in my closet. And tried to get on with my life. It worked, to some degree, but now I realize there are still experiences left unprocessed because of the sheer speed of life at the dorm. When I wasn’t having a conversation, shopping, traveling, cooking, or doing laundry, I was sleeping. That didn’t leave a lot of time to think, to reflect, to process.

Freshman-sophomore weekend 2007. We dressed funky and went to Lörrach to take interesting photos like this one. This is one of my favorite memories. We had a lot of fun that day.

So I will start sorting my photos, and keep thinking about what sort of album I want to make. It will be fun to relive some of these memories!

Teri and me, same day in Lörrach.

Teri, me, and Rachel at the beginning of my (and Rachel's) second year.

gratefulness and real life

It seems automatically human to pine over the things we do not have instead of giving thanks for what we do enjoy. At least, it is that way for me. Scripture talks plenty of giving thanks, of being content in whatever state I find myself, and of “rejoicing always”…always is a sweeping term (I Thes. 4:16).

The past year felt like a roller coaster ride in many ways. Hopes rose and fell in many areas of my life. Now, life still feels uncertain as I peer curiously (as always) at the future. Anything could change at any moment. Isn’t that the way it always is, though? Jobs, relationships, friendships are all precarious. People move away, situations change, new opportunities come along, old ones disappear. It never works to depend with much confidence on the circumstances of life in this transient world. At the same time, I must invest – earnestly – in the work I have to do and, more importantly, in the people around me. I want to invest the way Jesus did: the kind of investment in others that involves death to self and results in strengthened relationships and ultimately, mysteriously, contentment. I want to really love people. I want to really love my work. I want to really live.

reading aloud = important

One of the biggest mistakes we make as parents and teachers is to stop reading out loud to our children when they reach the age of reading faster independently. In doing so, not only do we deprive them of the opportunity to hear these all-important reliably correct, and sophisticated language patterns, we lose the chance to read to them above their level, stretching and expanding their vocabulary, interests, and understanding. We begin to lose the chance to discuss words and their nuance, idioms, cultural expressions, and historical connotations. And they lose something far more valuable than even the linguistic enrichment that oral reading provides; they lose the opportunity to develop attentiveness, the chance to experience the dramatic feeling that a good reader can inject, and even the habit of asking questions about what they’ve heard. Tragically, because of our hectic, entertainment-saturated, individualistic, test-obsessed, and overscheduled lives, few of us take sufficient time to read out loud to our students, even into their early teens—a sensitive period when understanding of language and understanding of life are woven together and sealed into the intellect (Andrew Pudewa).

I love this! I’m looking forward to reading aloud to my students much oftener this year. It’s one of my favorite things.

looking back…to the present

Sometimes I like to reread old journal entries. Okay, often I like to. Almost every time I write in my paper journal, I flip backward to reread some account of what I was feeling a week ago, a month ago, or five months ago. (Not quite a year, since I started my current paper journal in February ‘09.) Why the fascination with events passed; thoughts and emotions preserved on paper? I don’t know. There’s something about the past that draws me in, even when it’s merely to thank God that I’m not going through a particular heartache any longer, or that I am no longer battling with a fear that used to clutch me.

Lately I have realized, again, how difficult is this “living in the now.” I’ve had plenty of grand experiences in the past, and plenty of unpleasant ones too. Why do I tend to idealize certain experiences or time periods, choosing not to remember the negative aspects of those times? It’s certainly not a bad thing, is it, to gloss over difficult times in my memory, and choose to remember the good? At the same time, idealizing a certain time in my life can lead to idolizing it, or wishing I could find a time machine and travel backward to re-capture some of those moments.

Honestly, sometimes I ache to have a day at Wittlingen dorm in the “old days” when I worked there as a Resident Assistant. The RA role had plenty of difficulties and stresses, sometimes more than I could adequately cope with – yet it was incredibly rewarding. Rich and deep and sweet. There were so many sides to my life there, and its pace was ridiculously fast – too fast to sustain for more than a few years. I remember how exhausted I felt at the end of my two-year term. Still, I think it has been difficult for me to slow down and adjust to the pace of my life here in America, compared to what it was like living with around 30 people. It’s just different here. A lot different.

Now, I feel like I’m being pulled and stretched, but am uncertain in which directions. I feel ready to burst out and grow, but am not quite there yet. It’s difficult for me to define, or even understand myself right now, so I think that’s why the past looks so appealing. So simple and good.

Do I need a time machine to take me back to carefree childhood? Or care-ful yet sweet and rewarding life in Europe? Or perhaps I need to focus on the present, avoid many thoughts of the future, and trust that God is working His perfect will although the road is foggy?

Yes to the latter question, and pray. Yes, pray.

…at six years old?

This is amazing and inspiring. Have a happy holiday weekend.