.
there is
a time to speak,
and a time
to fall silent.
we were meant to be
so much more than
noise.
Monday, January 26, 2009
so much more
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Mathematical Musings
In the midst of exams here, sorry for my lack of posting! I've only got one to go -- math -- and I'm writing it Monday morning. I should be practicing my probability, which is a bit rusty still, but my brain is such a muddle of fractions and decimals and equations that I honestly don't know how I can possibly keep studying. It really does seem that the more I study, the less I understand.
I'm not overly worried about doing poorly on the exam -- I've calculated that, even if I get a low mark on it, I can still retain a 90-average because of other work that I've done in the course. My concern isn't that I'll bring down my mark; it's that I'll let my teacher down. Just a few days ago, he told me that he was really pleased with how I was doing in the course and asked if he could use one of my projects to show as an example to future classes.
This was a very pleasant surprise, considering how much I've hated math all my life. Oh, I know that most everyone "hates" math -- but I'm sure that few people have ever cried every day for a whole year before math class, as I did in fourth grade (we were learning long division -- now, I have a scientific calculator for that chore!). Math has always scared the wits out of me, and, even though I've always managed to scrape by with A's in the subject, I never really understood it or felt confident in it. It's only in my final year of high school that I've managed to find an aspect of math which I enjoy. I never expected to like math -- much less be good at it -- so this has served as a nice lesson in doing hard things for me.
The problem is, I still feel like my good grades aren't really representative of what I know. In many of the units, I only got high marks because tests were easy and I happened to memorize the right notes; not so much because I understood what I was learning.
And now I'm feeling the pressure. My teacher, who thinks I'm great at math, expects me to get an equally great mark on the exam, and I just don't think I'll be able to manage it. I've memorized all the formulas and practiced all the questions, but get stuck as soon as I encounter a new question, and only manage to understand it after I check the Answer Key. Plus, my brain's really, really about to melt.
So I'm really going to let down my teacher on the exam -- and I hate that feeling! We've all seen singers release not-so-great albums, athletes do sub-par on the Olympics, writers publish disappointing sequels -- I hate to think that I'm going to make someone feel that way with my own work. I really don't like letting people down; whether I'm blogging, Flickr'ing, or working on schoolwork, I'm always worried about how my work will measure up to all that I've done in the past. In fact, that's why I quit writing for several years after sixth grade -- I wrote a few good (for my age) stories that won me an award, and I stopped experimenting, afraid that I would fail to produce something equally good.
This fear of pressure is also why I stopped blogging three times (on other blogs, not this one) and quit art in middle school. It's ruled a lot of my life. I've learned, in time, to overcome it, but it's getting the better of me tonight. And it's making me wonder.
Why do I care so much about what my teacher will think of me if I fail, and so little about what God thinks when I disappoint him? God has seen me as a devoted, trusting, and on-fire disciple, and now he sees me slipping away, running after the transient, emphemeral charms and deceptions of this earth instead of stepping closer to him. He sees me trip over the world's worthless lies, and fall so, so far below what he wants and expects me to be.
Why do I care so little?
Granted, there's no pressure. In God, I am free from pressure, competition, deadline, and stress. He wants me to work, rest, and commune with him out of my own will, not as a response to prodding or force. It's my choice to serve God, and it's my choice to care.
Tonight, I feel at peace. Whether I do poorly on tomorrow's exam, or whether I hear another "Good job, Oksana," I know that only one thing matters: it's whether or not I will hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Only one thing matters.
I'm not overly worried about doing poorly on the exam -- I've calculated that, even if I get a low mark on it, I can still retain a 90-average because of other work that I've done in the course. My concern isn't that I'll bring down my mark; it's that I'll let my teacher down. Just a few days ago, he told me that he was really pleased with how I was doing in the course and asked if he could use one of my projects to show as an example to future classes.
This was a very pleasant surprise, considering how much I've hated math all my life. Oh, I know that most everyone "hates" math -- but I'm sure that few people have ever cried every day for a whole year before math class, as I did in fourth grade (we were learning long division -- now, I have a scientific calculator for that chore!). Math has always scared the wits out of me, and, even though I've always managed to scrape by with A's in the subject, I never really understood it or felt confident in it. It's only in my final year of high school that I've managed to find an aspect of math which I enjoy. I never expected to like math -- much less be good at it -- so this has served as a nice lesson in doing hard things for me.
The problem is, I still feel like my good grades aren't really representative of what I know. In many of the units, I only got high marks because tests were easy and I happened to memorize the right notes; not so much because I understood what I was learning.
And now I'm feeling the pressure. My teacher, who thinks I'm great at math, expects me to get an equally great mark on the exam, and I just don't think I'll be able to manage it. I've memorized all the formulas and practiced all the questions, but get stuck as soon as I encounter a new question, and only manage to understand it after I check the Answer Key. Plus, my brain's really, really about to melt.
So I'm really going to let down my teacher on the exam -- and I hate that feeling! We've all seen singers release not-so-great albums, athletes do sub-par on the Olympics, writers publish disappointing sequels -- I hate to think that I'm going to make someone feel that way with my own work. I really don't like letting people down; whether I'm blogging, Flickr'ing, or working on schoolwork, I'm always worried about how my work will measure up to all that I've done in the past. In fact, that's why I quit writing for several years after sixth grade -- I wrote a few good (for my age) stories that won me an award, and I stopped experimenting, afraid that I would fail to produce something equally good.
This fear of pressure is also why I stopped blogging three times (on other blogs, not this one) and quit art in middle school. It's ruled a lot of my life. I've learned, in time, to overcome it, but it's getting the better of me tonight. And it's making me wonder.
Why do I care so much about what my teacher will think of me if I fail, and so little about what God thinks when I disappoint him? God has seen me as a devoted, trusting, and on-fire disciple, and now he sees me slipping away, running after the transient, emphemeral charms and deceptions of this earth instead of stepping closer to him. He sees me trip over the world's worthless lies, and fall so, so far below what he wants and expects me to be.
Why do I care so little?
Granted, there's no pressure. In God, I am free from pressure, competition, deadline, and stress. He wants me to work, rest, and commune with him out of my own will, not as a response to prodding or force. It's my choice to serve God, and it's my choice to care.
Tonight, I feel at peace. Whether I do poorly on tomorrow's exam, or whether I hear another "Good job, Oksana," I know that only one thing matters: it's whether or not I will hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Only one thing matters.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Pattern
i've talked of heaven's gates in termsof geometric patterns --the golden bars, pearl-laden and parallel --repeating, repeating, repeatinginfinitely...their endless panoramas raced through my mind while i satmastering the equationand missing the entrance.but youyou haven't learned arithmetic yetand your faith makes me restless.i believe when i see your fingers reach for minethe lines in the palms of your hands, which you clutched so tightly in the womb --theseare your patterns.lift them, child,leave your imprints in the air; our unseen fingerprints are His to breathe inHis to remember...and He will collect your patterns,guard them tightly between the pages of His book save the songs you spun in worshipeternallyforever and ever and ever and everand always.it is a pattern, childand it's dancing.
Inspired by Brooke Fraser's song "Seeds." Read its lyrics -- they're amazing.
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