Play Your Harmonica
I recently attended a week-long Theology of the Body course, where I was able to retreat and be renewed, as well as learn a ton about the Church’s teachings on what it means to be male and female, and the truths of our sexuality.
I am still unpacking so much truth from this week, but one immediate, relevant thing that stuck out to me was when the speaker said to us, “Play your Harmonica.” He had just finished telling a story about a gifted musician who had stopped playing the piano because she felt that she needed to sacrifice it to God because she loved it so much. He pointed out that that could come from a warped view of who God created us to be. If we are depraved, then everything we love needs to be given to Him and sacrificed. But if we are good, then all of our desires need to be offered to Him and purified still, but recognizing all the while that our desires themselves were given to us by God. The speaker also referenced a movie where the main character was encouraging someone to play their harmonica in prison, because it helps you hold on to hope.
So I started thinking, what is my harmonica? What is my piano? What is the thing that I love to do, that maybe I have given up or not made time for? Writing has definitely been one of those things for me. I was a creative writing major in college. That in itself was a miracle because I have always been afraid to share my writing with others. One semester I took a Creative Non-Fiction writing class and a British Literature class. Halfway through the semester, I dropped the British Lit class and changed my English concentration to creative writing. It wasn’t that I was particularly good at writing, more that I hated the British Lit class, if we are being honest.
Since graduating though, I have often thought that writing could be a source of pride, so maybe I shouldn’t do it. There was a time when I refused to edit my writing because I didn’t want it to build up my pride, and felt that I should put it out there, even if it wasn’t good. If it was bad, then it would only make me more humble. Plus, I would definitely fall into the trap of reading and editing something over and over again, not willing to let go until I feel that it’s perfect. The problem there is that eventually, whether it is a week, a month, or years later, I’m sure that I will always eventually come back to something I have written and find an error or way that I could have or should have said it differently. But there should be a happy medium between these two ideas. It is not bad to edit, although perfection is maybe not the right thing to be aiming for.
Point being, I am here writing. Welcome to my harmonica. I want to be who God has made me to be. Fully alive.
I am still unpacking so much truth from this week, but one immediate, relevant thing that stuck out to me was when the speaker said to us, “Play your Harmonica.” He had just finished telling a story about a gifted musician who had stopped playing the piano because she felt that she needed to sacrifice it to God because she loved it so much. He pointed out that that could come from a warped view of who God created us to be. If we are depraved, then everything we love needs to be given to Him and sacrificed. But if we are good, then all of our desires need to be offered to Him and purified still, but recognizing all the while that our desires themselves were given to us by God. The speaker also referenced a movie where the main character was encouraging someone to play their harmonica in prison, because it helps you hold on to hope.
So I started thinking, what is my harmonica? What is my piano? What is the thing that I love to do, that maybe I have given up or not made time for? Writing has definitely been one of those things for me. I was a creative writing major in college. That in itself was a miracle because I have always been afraid to share my writing with others. One semester I took a Creative Non-Fiction writing class and a British Literature class. Halfway through the semester, I dropped the British Lit class and changed my English concentration to creative writing. It wasn’t that I was particularly good at writing, more that I hated the British Lit class, if we are being honest.
Since graduating though, I have often thought that writing could be a source of pride, so maybe I shouldn’t do it. There was a time when I refused to edit my writing because I didn’t want it to build up my pride, and felt that I should put it out there, even if it wasn’t good. If it was bad, then it would only make me more humble. Plus, I would definitely fall into the trap of reading and editing something over and over again, not willing to let go until I feel that it’s perfect. The problem there is that eventually, whether it is a week, a month, or years later, I’m sure that I will always eventually come back to something I have written and find an error or way that I could have or should have said it differently. But there should be a happy medium between these two ideas. It is not bad to edit, although perfection is maybe not the right thing to be aiming for.
Point being, I am here writing. Welcome to my harmonica. I want to be who God has made me to be. Fully alive.
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