Gina Maria

I hate this.

I hate how I’m sitting at a bar writing this while everyone around me is talking.

I hate that I’m writing now and not talking.

I hate that I’m writing…I wish I wasn’t. I wish I was participating in the conversation next to me. Its funny and I wish I could laugh along.

But I have limited days of leisure. If I’m not careful, I’ll spend all my time talking, because that’s naturally something I’d rather do. I’ll have numerous realizations about life and work and school. I’ll have conversations with my parents, friends, professors and coworkers in which I give them quick updates on my progress. I impress them with my words, they’re satisfied with my apparent sense of well-being, and they get off my back.

It’s a cycle. It keeps me from making the same mistake twice. But it also keeps me from fully learning my lesson.

By talking about situational thoughts and feelings rather than writing the lessons I’ve learned, I continue to hear differing opinions. They stick with me and I’ll consider them, even though I know they’re not true. And soon enough, these confusing, pressing matters of faith and reason infect my mind with the plague of overthinking that I thought I had gotten rid of.

I’m not over you like I thought I was…

…I thought I forgot you. I thought I hated you…

…And my mind begins to spin. Once-forgotten worries resurface and overcome my idle thoughts.

You become a cancer.
Or wait, am I the cancer?

Why do I make my life more difficult?
Why can’t I just do what’s right?
Why can’t I just write?

Well.

I can.

So here I am.

I’ve surrendered to my IPhone keyboard, allowing my thoughts to freely flow through my thumbs, until the river runs dry and the guy next to me asks if I want another beer.

I say yes.
We begin to talk.
And now I’m what’s funny in the conversation next to me.

Some people talk.
Some people listen.

The talker thinks out loud
Her inner monologue
becomes an outer monologue,
The gears of her mind slowly
Turn
Turn
Then quickly form her conclusion.
Eyebrows
And point raised.
she exhales.
Release.

Simultaneously,
the listener listens.
He observes her facial movements; the outer reverberation of
the inner
seismic
wave
of
mental
energy….
Caused by a collision and creation
of a new idea that is now his as much as it is hers.

Ideas are born,
shared,
forgotten.

Stories unfold,
Are told,
Forgotten.

All the while,
the seismic process continues.

She talks,
He listens.
And together, they learn.

Maybe I’m Crazy

“His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.”

2 Peter 1:3-4

Humanity; infinite shades of one color, all bound together through the fabric of space and time. Each shade at once unique yet irrevocably tied to her fellow shade of the same color.

The palate of humanity comes together to come alive. Humanity is beautiful. Each shade bears her own scars, her insecurities, her shame. Each shade is imperfect. Each shade tells a story; allowing humans to empathize with others’ experiences and emotions.

But humanity is most beautiful because it bears the divine mark of godly love. Our Creator’s omnipotent stroke of love shines through every smile and every tear. Through every hug and kiss of forgiveness, of admiration, and of hope, God shares His heart with humanity.

Christians believe that God shared His heart with humanity most powerfully through sacrificing His only son.

1 Peter 1:20 says “He (Jesus) was chosen before the creation of the World.”

God created humans knowing they would sin; knowing His son must die in love. God created us knowing that we would fall and flaw and be faced with constant trial and tribulation; that we would we cry out together, “Why is life so hard?”

Humans find comfort in complaining together. We dwell on our past, our present, and our future. We learn from others’ mistakes. But while one shade may contain more complexity than another, it is still just a tiny brushstroke on the infinite canvas of humanity.

Life’s biggest questions may never be answered. But life’s greatest joys have been given to us through God’s love.
He’s invited us to participate in the divine nature; to experience the same love that created the world.

The colors of humanity become most beautiful when seen and experienced through the lens of godly love.
Complaining turns into worshipping, gossiping turns into praying, sadness turns into joy.

And all the shades begin to sing.

https://m.soundcloud.com/gina-cunsolo-1/crazy

To a Christian, worship is a selfless, spirit-led act of pure exaltation. It’s not a performance, it’s a gift to God – for it is only because of Him that we have a voice at all.

I lead the worship music in church, and I’ve been told that my voice blesses people. A close friend of no particular religious faith once told me, “Gina, when I hear you sing, I know that God exists.”

My Mom had asked that when Thursday night Bible Study started, I come downstairs and lead worship with my brother John. I said yes, only to defy her later and instead, just stay in my bedroom.

Because of this, I know my family isn’t happy with me. But Ricky, before you say it – let me do some explaining.

My brother leaves for good (more or less) in two days. He’s beginning his journey of internship, senior year, grad school, you know. Life.

When he’s away, I miss him. I regretfully wonder of all the Johnisms that I will never know. But in the past 4 years of semesters away and summers home, the thing I’ve come to miss most about living with him is our impromptu brother-sister living room piano-playing worship leading sessions. He calls it “CunDuo”.

You’d think I would’ve jumped at one last opportunity for CunDuo to unite. But I thought about it, and I realized that leading worship with John two days before he leaves for a group of 12 members of our church friends that have become family would most likely end in me riding the border between crying and sobbing.

First, my eyes would fall upon Aunt Rose and Uncle Joe’s brightly smiling, tear-stained light brown faces. Then, I’d turn towards Teri, thanking God once more for healing her body and her soul. Finally, the sobering sadness in realizing that I miss John already.
I would have been a wreck.

I’m usually all for public displays of emotion, but tonight I just wasn’t up to dealing with the repercussions of exposing my naked soul to a large group of people. I also really wanted to finish my book, The Warmth of Other Suns. So I stayed in my room and pretended not to hear them, all the while singing along to every line.

I knew I’d have to deal with all those emotions at some point. So, I did.

I prayed and worshipped later that night, and God showed up. He revealed truth to me that no random collision of chemicals could ever create.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” 2 Corinthians 3:17

In my sadness, I had completely forgotten my faith which frees me from sadness – that John and I share a worship-filled future of eternity in Heaven.

In order “find myself”, I need to shine a flashlight into the deep recesses of the cave of my personality. Then, I need to unabashedly share my various talents and abilities on every brand of social media.

As the sometimes-sharp-soprano-singing older sister of a perfect pitch prodigy, I’ve always doubted myself as a “musican”. But, I’ve recently come to declare myself as a “writer”, and a “singer”. So I tried to write music.

This is my first attempt at a freestyle.
If you listen, listen til the end.

 

https://soundcloud.com/gina-cunsolo-1/gorgeous-take-one

Social media’s post- modern chicken/egg dilemma:

Which came first; the scene or the iPhone camera to shoot it? Did the photographer earnestly capture that goop-covered-fist-raised ending pose of some dumb chump with a cheesy grin crossing the finish line of a Tough Mudder race, or did he or she have to fake it for the sake of a cool Instagram post? More bluntly, did he or she merely “Do it for the Vine”?

Our Facebook friends tell us that if we didn’t share a particular priceless moment on any social media outlet, it didn’t happen – for the entire limitless invisible universe we call “The Internet” is interested in knowing exactly what we are doing at all times.

This is why we find ourselves staring at pictures of that random guy’s Chinese food takeout. The owner of this Instagram account actually believes that you, as the “follower”, care about what he had for lunch. His day is made better with every “like”. Your “like” is validating his existence.

It’s ultimately a monstrous waste of time, for snapping photos of everything one sees, eats, and wears requires one’s smartphone to eternally live in his or her back pocket. The constant tweet crafting and Facebook Profile Pic planning, while helping the human prove that his or her life is meaningful, actually distracts away an unhealthy portion of the human’s life – especially the teenager’s.

A teacher named Tracie Schroeder recently tweeted, “In 16 years of teaching, I can’t think of anything that has ever disrupted my classroom more than today’s @snapchat update.” (@bravesearth)

It isn’t news that a group of young people raised in a world of instant messaging and instant gratification have limited attention spans. But the introduction of SnapChat has only multiplied the distractions for kids who are already distracted by their phones.

Teenagers who would’ve once spent their evenings with their heads down ingesting the contents of a book have been replaced by students with heads and hands extended upwards to catch the perfect Snap Chat studying selfie – only to then religiously monitor who has opened it.

Lost in the only cyber world they’ve known, adolescents are slowly subconsciously placing more value on the sharing of an event than the actual participation of the event. Just go to any concert and you’ll find an entire floor crowd of brace-faced 18 year olds, standing still; brightly colored rectangles held high over their heads.

I recently told a young female coworker that instead of “liking” her Instagram post as she asked me to, I would instead march up to her face and tell her in person, “I like your photo.”

She just rolled her eyes.