Brother Teresa vs The World

For many of us, this year was like a shotgun blast to the chest. Young lives came to an abrupt end....

Tue, 15 Jan 2013 13:44:00 -0800

For many of us,
this year was like a shotgun blast to the chest.

 Young lives came to an abrupt end. Relationships we’d fought long and hard for had reached their boiling points. Jobs we’d broken our backs for showed little gratitude for our efforts. While others were posting Instagram photos of their perfect relationships, delicious food, and posh lifestyle, our income trudged miserably towards debt.

In times like these, it’s normal to feel like running away; to hurl curses at God in hopes that He strikes us dead—because “mercy” and refuge are obviously out of the question.

Some people internalize this pain and fall into depression. Others externalize it and lash out in aggression. We beg for “answers,” but every solution proposed to us seems to only fuel our cynicism.

When life feels too heavy, when our sense of security has been pried from our fingertips, when the weight is so unbearable that “asleep” is more preferred than “awake”—what we long for / what we need (whether we realize it or not) is Presence.

To know that someone is listening and willing to suffer alongside us for hours, days, and sometimes years. To know that someone appreciates our efforts and sees how hard we’re trying. To know that someone isn’t going to dismiss us as “stupid” or “crazy” if we unintentionally explode after months of pent up frustration. To know that we are NOT—nor will we ever be—alone.

To finally be home. To find sanctuary.

Photo by Umberto Nicoletti

I like ending blogs with a quote. Something that neatly ties together all the sporadic musings...

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 01:24:00 -0800

I like ending blogs with a quote. Something that neatly ties together all the sporadic musings I’ve pedantically scribbled across my digital notepad.

But sometimes I’ll find a passage—a cluster of calculated paragraphs that simply cannot be condensed into a cute, bite-sized “Tumblr quote.” Its words so precise, so potent, so packed with meaning, that to add any additional commentary would only pollute its author’s intent.

Five years ago, I stumbled upon one such passage. Its words marked the first day of the rest of my life…

Here is something I found to be true: you don’t start processing death until you turn thirty. I live in visions, for instance, and they are cast out some fifty years, and just now, just last year I realized my visions were cast too far, they were out beyond my life span.

It frightened me to think of it, that I passed up an early marriage or children to write these silly books, that I bought the lie that the academic life had to be separate from relational experience, as though God only wanted us to learn cognitive ideas, as if the heart of a man were only created to resonate with movies. No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath:

I’ll tell you how the sun rose
A ribbon at a time …

It’s a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn’t matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were … and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be.

So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.

And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.

I want to repeat one word for you:

Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

Excerpt from “Through Painted Deserts” by Don Miller

Designed by Brother Teresa

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 15:43:00 -0800

Anyone can look good #winning. When everything’s going...

Tue, 08 Nov 2011 12:04:00 -0800

Anyone can look good #winning. When everything’s going your way, it’s easy to stand gracefully and beam with exuberance.

But to care for others when your heart’s been crushed, to trust when confidence is betrayed, to remain buoyant in a sea of despair, to smile when days feel mind-numbingly repetitious,

to fail with consequence, to lose with eloquence;

This requires a special kind of Soul—
a Love unbound by circumstance,
a Hope outside this world.

I love your reblogs. All the cute illustrations, vintage photography, and hilarious gifs—but what...

Mon, 07 Nov 2011 12:57:00 -0800

I love your reblogs. All the cute illustrations, vintage photography, and hilarious gifs—but what else can you do?

I’m sure you’ve got some original artwork, entertaining stories, and provocative thoughts buried in that beautiful mind of yours. Let it all out.

This is my friend Nina Hans. We make art together.Most people think I love hanging with her because...

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 11:49:00 -0700

This is my friend Nina Hans. We make art together.

Most people think I love hanging with her because she’s a Jew with nice legs. And while this may be true, the primary reason I enjoy Nina’s company is because she’s better than me.

Not a better designer, writer, or even a half-competent carnivore by any stretch of the imagination; but a better worker—i.e. Nina knows how to get sh*t done.

While I’m off taking breaks every few hours, watching Netflix marathons of Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, and Grey’s Anatomy (don’t hate); she’s out running errands, making phone calls, and working her figurative balls off to make sure projects are successful. Nina’s ability to complete, deliver, and ship out projects puts my lackadaisical work ethic to shame.

If you want to be a better artist, businessman, technician, or student; seek the company of those who humble your work and encourage you to improve.

If you want to be wiser, healthier, or more organized; seek the guidance of those who understand (and practice) the importance of DAILY temperance, sacrifice, and devotion.

If you want to be a better friend, boyfriend, father, or son; seek the footsteps of those who inspire you to be more thoughtful in your relationships.

If you want to be better at anything, distance yourself from gossips, cynics, procrastinators and two-faced “friends.” Seek the fellowship of those who are everything you want to BE.

And one day—after years of learning, failing, and refining yourself—perhaps you will find that you’ve matured into a respectable human being: a passionate lil’ “Nina”
to inspire wandering souls (like me).

Nina Hans is the Art Director at WoodSmithe, Founder of Start a REVO

When Art is done right, few words are necessary.

Wed, 26 Oct 2011 01:12:00 -0700

When Art is done right, few words are necessary.

A Jester's Gesture

Fri, 24 Jun 2011 22:53:31 -0700

B: Yo dawg, you wanna grab lunch?
P: I'm broke.
B: Don't worry, I'll spot you.
P: Nah, it's cool.
B: What! Do you hate FREE food or something?
P: It's not that, I just don't like feeling like I owe anyone.
B: Who said you'd owe me? Consider it a gift – from my heart to your stomach.
P: I think I'll pass, man.
B: C'mon, think about it—when you do people favors, do you consider it a huge inconvenience OR do you actually enjoy doing it?
P: I enjoy it.
B: Well, there you go!
P: Hmmm..
B: Look, I know you have my interest in mind, but sometimes it's good to be a LITTLE selfish. Constantly turning down kind gestures doesn't prove you're self-relient or "strong," it just means you're stubborn and prideful. So PLEASE, for the love of God, just let me buy you lunch! Allow me the honor to "suffer" on your behalf—it's all love, homie.
P: Jeez, okay. Let's get lunch.
B: Cool! You mind driving? I don't have a car.
P: -_______-

Designed by Brother Teresa

Wed, 01 Jun 2011 14:43:00 -0700

Do NOT be fooled by the innocent look on his face — this pup...

Fri, 27 May 2011 20:54:00 -0700

Do NOT be fooled by the innocent look on his face — this pup definitely belongs to the house of Slytherin. Behind the scenes are my brother’s socks scattered throughout the kitchen floor, my mom’s shredded flower garden, and a trash bag full of used paper towels.

When it comes to sharing our homes with new love interests, roommates, and newborns, we must always remember that adaptation is a process, not a single act. This means we must grow in our patience and remember that not everyone will naturally appreciate (or notice) our sacrifices. So RELAX.

Forgive like a parent & Love like a newborn pup.（＾＿＾）

Designed by Brother Teresa

Thu, 12 May 2011 14:10:00 -0700

It is the creative mind — i.e. the writer, the speaker, the designer, the artist, the photographer,...

Thu, 12 May 2011 13:15:00 -0700

It is the creative mind — i.e. the writer, the speaker, the designer, the artist, the photographer, the director, the musician, the storyteller — that influence what gets HEARD and what gets IGNORED.

They choose what information is vital and worth spreading; then they package it into something that grabs hold of your peripherals.

They take what looks bland and DULL
and make it delectable for mass audiences to Devour.

Because of them,
important becomes interesting.

Unfortunately,
most young artists today take this rare gift of creative communication,
and exploit it as nothing more than a tool for building popularity.

They scream “Look at me!” instead of “Look at this!”

Their goal is to be Loved, and not to Love.

But I believe there are a chosen few of you out there who know this world
was NEVER about you.

Who know there are deeper issues at hand than being followed on Twitter, Tumblr, or “Liked” on Facebook.

Who continue to point towards what really matters in life.

Who Love, Love…

25 Random Facts

Wed, 11 May 2011 15:52:00 -0700

My prized “material” possessions include a collection of over 500 books, 300 dvds, an iMac, a DSLR camera, and a cereal bowl. I only get upset when people touch my cereal bowl.

I have a “man-crush” on Michael Fassbender. If he had Ray Lamontagne’s voice I’d probably be gay.

I once fought a swarm of bees for over an hour. when I was done, I had no shirt, a swollen lip, and a cut on my hand. Turns out when you spray bees with water, they don’t die; they just get really, really pissed.

I absolutely LOVE people, but not in loud obnoxious settings. Label me old-fashioned, but I much prefer a late-night conversation at Denny’s, over boobs & beer pong at a frat party.

After one of his concerts, Common told me I was “fly.” I replied saying, “No, I’m just Uncommon.”

In third grade, all my classmates wanted to be firefighters, astronauts, doctors, and policemen. I wanted to be a zoo keeper.

I’m related to a former president of the Philippines.

Whenever I come home late from work and I see a bunch of snails outside, I run into the kitchen and grab a cup of salt.

I once shot my brother in his forearm. I was aiming for his face, but he covered it with his arms. After I shot him, I ran up to him, hugged him, and screamed, “I love you! Don’t tell mom!”

I don’t have any childhood friends. All my closest friends came after 2001.

My little nieces and nephews just learned how to say the word, “penis.” You’re welcome, America.

When I was a kid, I inhaled pepper through my nose because I thought it would make me sneeze (just like the cartoons). Instead, my nose bled for two hours.

My brother and I used to have a booger collection on our bedroom wall growing up. Every morning I would gently brush my fingertips over each booger and stand in awe of how hard they had become.

A few years ago, I saw a dog get hit by a car during rush hour. I pulled over, stopped traffic, ran into the middle of the road, and brought it home. I cleaned it, fed it, and let it fall asleep on my lap while sitting on the kitchen floor. The next day it ran away. Sometimes, I miss that dog.

The way I cope with heartbreak is I face it. When a woman breaks my heart, I don’t run away and start hating them. Instead, I continue to befriend them and their stupid, ugly boyfriends. I do this because I don’t like the idea of having to avoid ANYTHING that reminds me of someone. That’s not freedom, that’s slavery.

Whenever I can afford it, I buy iPods for my friends and fill ‘em up with cool playlists, videos, and podcasts. It’s not as awesome as an old school mixtape, but it’ll suffice.

Most of my friends think I’m a “genius,” but the fact of the matter is I force myself to read and re-read books until I finally “get it.” In reality, I’m such a slow learner that I once had to retake a class five times.

My Corgi’s name is Prince William Wennington IV. When my mom asked why I chose such a fancy name, I replied, “If that bastard is gonna cost me a month’s salary, he sure as hell better sound expensive.”

I once did a somersault dive off a ledge into an ice cold river, while dressed up as a lion. After I caught my breath and the pain began to settle in, I realized I was an idiot.

If you’re a guy and you’ve been to my apartment, you’ve probably seen me do pushups in my underwear.

My three-year-old goddaughter once drew a mustache on her face (using a marker) and stuffed her poop into a hole in the wall. Her aunt says she’s ‘just like me.’

If I could read just one author for the rest of my life, it’d be Philip Yancey.

My one guilty pleasure is Hannah Montana. I can’t get enough of Miley Cyrus and her rugged, manly voice.

I personally believe a woman is at her most beautiful when she’s wearing sweats and has no makeup. Truth is, I’d take a dorky chick with a witty sense of humor (e.g. Pam from The Office) over a hot supermodel ANY day of the week.

The “best man” at my wedding will be my best friend Jodie. In order to remain traditional, she will be wearing a fake mustache.

You ever stop & wonder how many times you crossed paths with...

Tue, 03 May 2011 18:19:00 -0700

You ever stop & wonder how many times you crossed paths with someone before finally meeting them face-to-face?

While I’ve never been one to label coincidence as “fate,” I can’t help but be intrigued with this notion that certain people were meant to be part of our lives. Some brought for us to Love; and others, to help us Learn — a Divine Serendipity.

"‘Nobody’s perfect,’ is not an excuse to be stupid."

Sat, 30 Apr 2011 17:22:00 -0700

“‘Nobody’s perfect,’ is not an excuse to be stupid.””

- Brother Teresa

“Oh my gosh, a hummingbird!” Her fascination...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 15:33:00 -0700

“Oh my gosh, a hummingbird!”

Her fascination fascinated me
to redundancy.

She was a lovable spirit.
A bubbly, dorky, Canadian girl with
the appetite of three baby pandas.

“So much awe and excitement over
such a tiny bird,” I thought.

Then again,
perhaps her reaction was befitting.
Maybe it was I who’d lost perspective.

Age and Cynicism have muddied
my sense of Wonder.
Familiarity has made Miracles cliché.

I pray thee, O Lord,
that I may see the world
through the eyes
of the bubbly, dorky, Canadian girl.

Designed by Brother Teresa

Tue, 26 Apr 2011 13:19:00 -0700

Matchbox Men

Mon, 25 Apr 2011 21:19:00 -0700

Some of the most inspirational people I’ve ever met will never get the credit they rightfully deserve. They’re not very creative, not academically brilliant, nor do they possess the natural #swag of Donald Glover or Emma Stone.

What they do have, however, is a damn good smile.

They are amiable souls — genial and pleasant to be around. They listen to you ramble, without rushing to judgment. They’re sympathetic, reliable, and know how to return phone calls. They’re responsible, consistent, and don’t take themselves too seriously.

They are the backbone of your organization and the heartbeat of your small circle of friends. Without them, your plans are not only limited, they’re at risk of growing benign.

So to all you silent souls working diligently in the background to make sure those around you don’t go insane — T H A N K Y O U. Thank you for your patience and willingness to hustle long after your work shift has ended.

Your job description and company name tag will never live up to the kind of work you do, or the person you truly are: the living definition of a ‘Friend.’

Designed by Brother Teresa

Mon, 25 Apr 2011 06:42:00 -0700

Reblog | Remix

Thu, 21 Apr 2011 23:16:00 -0700

The fascinating thing about Tumblr is it’s socially backward. Instead of conversing with a person to find out who they are and what they do, you’re granted instant access into their psyche — i.e. their Likes, dislikes, personal tastes and philosophies. Reading a person, now precedes meeting a person. We’d rather stalk than talk.

And on Tumblr, there are no photo albums. No status updates. No list of mutual friends to hide behind. You are jumping head first into a sea of Archived personalities, and the only way to directly connect with these people is to ‘ASK’ them something (via a shady-looking button that leaves you vulnerable to public exposure).

But what the hell, GO FOR IT! Ask them a question. Tell them how much you dig their tattoos or their photos of Natalie Portman. If you’ve been silently ~~stalking~~ following them for a while now, you might as well make it less creepy and introduce yourself. And don’t bother labeling yourself as Anonymous either. Get personal. Discover the men and women behind your favorite thumbnails.

“You go to Twitter and somebody has a million followers, and I got, you know, 800 or eight. But on Tumblr, it’s not about how many followers you have; it’s about who those followers are. I think it makes it all the more personal.”
—John Maloney, Tumblr President (via Antenna)

The following mixtape was inspired by the brilliant personalities who invade my Tumblr newsfeed on a daily basis. DOWNLOAD: Reblog | Remix

Brother Teresa vs The World

For many of us, this year was like a shotgun blast to the chest. Young lives came to an abrupt end....

I like ending blogs with a quote. Something that neatly ties together all the sporadic musings...

Designed by Brother Teresa

Anyone can look good #winning. When everything’s going...

I love your reblogs. All the cute illustrations, vintage photography, and hilarious gifs—but what...

This is my friend Nina Hans. We make art together.Most people think I love hanging with her because...

When Art is done right, few words are necessary.

A Jester's Gesture

Designed by Brother Teresa

Do NOT be fooled by the innocent look on his face — this pup...

Designed by Brother Teresa

It is the creative mind — i.e. the writer, the speaker, the designer, the artist, the photographer,...

25 Random Facts

You ever stop & wonder how many times you crossed paths with...

"‘Nobody’s perfect,’ is not an excuse to be stupid."

“Oh my gosh, a hummingbird!” Her fascination...

Designed by Brother Teresa

Matchbox Men

Designed by Brother Teresa

Reblog | Remix

For many of us, this year was like a shotgun blast to the chest. Young lives came to an abrupt end....