Life After Creative Perfectionism: Making Friends Again with Your Old Art

Me in 2012, in my Scrappy Storyteller steampunk costume


Recently, I made the decision to move my blogging back to WordPress.

This is the first platform I ever used to share my words with the world–and despite having hopped around to other platforms, I’ve come back here because it’s simple and built so well for SEO and for organic connections. In doing so, I bumped into my old art again.

Let’s rewind three and a half years. I was living in a 120ish-year-old Victorian frame house on Milwaukee’s blustery east side, just ten blocks from Lake Michigan. My husband (now ex-husband) and I had bought the house in 2012 and restored it from utter ruin to a beautiful gem on the block, and part of that restoration was turning two useless, broken-down rooms into a beautiful creative studio.

My first studio was a second-floor bedroom, which became a cozy nest for many creative endeavors, including my blogging, a 24-part serialized online fantasy novel, collaborative web series and Steampunk comic book.

In Spring 2016, I moved from that now-overflowing space into the attic, which my ex-husband had turned into a “rec room” for the buyer who would eventually allow us to flip the property. In the meantime, I made it my new, larger studio with dedicated spaces for sewing and appliqué, painting, reading, writing and running my small branding agency for women-owned businesses.

Interestingly, I have no photos of that second space. But it was about three times the size of the space above, if not more.

Our 120ish-yr-old Victorian home after fresh painting. (The third-floor window was my studio.)

At that time, I was running a blog about the improvisational creative process, called “Scrappy Storyteller.” The blog is no longer live. When I found out I was getting a divorce, I was so devastated that my creative process shut down almost instantly, and I eventually shut down the blog.

I thought I had deleted that blog. Until this month, that is.

While poking around in WordPress to get this blog up and running, I found the old Scrappy Storyteller, and with it, literally hundreds of posts that represented my creative hopes, fears, dreams, challenges and successes.

It truly felt like a “blast from the past.” Since I last wrote on Scrappy Storyteller, I have gotten divorced, built a business, destroyed it, lost everything in the process, traveled the world, renewed my relationship with God and wound up settling in the United Arab Emirates–where God has blessed me with a brand-new, overflowing life I could never have imagined in the old one.

Reading those old posts, I wanted to reach out and embrace the struggling, hard-working, sort-of-successful-sort-of-not woman that I was, and let her know that everything would be okay.

Yes, her worst fears were about to come true in the biggest possible way.

And yes, she would survive it all to rise from the ashes brand-new.

In other words … everything I was hoping and dreaming for in those long-ago days in my creative nest on the shores of the Great Lakes, have or are beginning to come true. I just didn’t know it would take the biggest losses of my life to unlock those good gifts.

I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude reading those old posts, as if finding them were a huge God-gift I hadn’t even expected.

You see, back when I got divorced, I went into a creative hole. Perfectionism had been my biggest enemy as a young creative–and my divorce was like the crowning proof that I was a failure, at least in my mind at that time. How could anyone want to read what I had to say when I had failed at my marriage? Partially because I was more married to my craft than my husband?

It seemed prudent to let all that writing go. So I shut down the blog and all my creative projects that were on the docket for that year, and for the three years since.

This pattern of creative rejection–and ejection–would continue over the next three years.

Trying to find my mojo again, I started other blogs and other projects, only to get halfway through and eject them, just like before. For some reason, I thought that getting rid of what I had done in the past was the only way to embrace the new.

And in those weary years of wandering, I desperately just wanted the new to come.

Now, looking back from a vantage point of time, healing and a greater understanding of God’s never-ending flow, I realize it wasn’t necessary to eject everything I had done.

Cutting off a diseased limb isn’t the way to heal the whole body (usually). For most maladies, a holistic treatment is available that preserves the limb. But amputation was the only method I knew. And in some ways, it was probably a reflection of my self-rejection, sadness and sense of failure at the time.

But now … but now … God has unexpectedly given me a new opportunity: to embrace that hurting young woman, recognize that nascent prophetic voice within her and retroactively extend healing to who she was.

After all, God lives outside of space and time. Sometimes I wonder if that Younger Me still exists concurrently with the Current Me in His vision of time. I don’t know–but I know that my own healing is tied to forgiving, deeply accepting and loving who I was in the past.

I’m excited to do that today.

Going forward, I’ll be sharing select posts from Scrappy Storyteller. I’ll denote them clearly so you know they aren’t my latest thoughts and ideas. But in making space for the Old Me in this creative space of mine, I think it will be a more fertile ground for the New Me to grow–especially as an artist.

Welcome, Old Lisa, Scrappy Storyteller. I celebrate who you were, the challenges you faced and the journey you went on.

You paved the way for Who I am today, and I bless you.

Your story is part of my story, always.

Let’s tell them together.

3 Levels of Flow You as a Woman Can Create in your Life

Photo courtesy of Krizean Josh Victa

So many women ask me about the concept of FLOW. In fact, I really hadn’t thought much about it personally as a concept until I started hearing it from them.

Once I started pondering the concept, however, I realized it was a key subject of God’s teaching in my life over in three-year journey I’ve been on so far with Him. It is also a central factor in whether or not we as women feel happy, comfortable and joyful in the life that He’s given us.

To me, FLOW is a state of harmony, alignment and ease in which the people, inspiration and resources you need are simply there whenever you need them. If you need something, you ask God, and it shows up.

This seems to bear out in the lives lives of the women I’ve spoken with.

The women who’ve asked me about FLOW are tired. They are tired of struggling to get (and keep) the attention of husbands, friends and family members. They are tired of sparring with writer’s and artist’s block in their creative work, or battling constant insecurities and creative self-doubt. And they are most definitely exhausted from running the rat race or trying to make a shoestring business work.

Can you relate? I can.

Back in July of 2017, God promised me that Everything I wanted would come out of Nothing, and that Everything would “arrive” in August of 2018. For the next year I did indeed have absolutely Nothing other than a suitcase and a small Fiat 500. Many times I didn’t even know where my housing or groceries would come from next. Yet in that season I learned how to trust God for the FLOW of love, creative inspiration and money that I needed each day. And in August of 2018, He did bring me to Dubai, where my FLOW and upshifted into OverFLOW just as He said.

The thing about FLOW is that its not arbitrary. If you are seriously exhausted and feeling the lack of it in your life, take heart. This can change. But you have to be willing for it to change. That’s the first step. Sometimes we become so convinced that life can’t or won’t FLOW for us, that we actually block ourselves from receiving it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s take a look at the three stages of FLOW—all of which apply to getting (and keeping) love, making friends with our muse so that she shows up on a regular basis, and attaining the resources we need to live comfortably and share abundantly with others.

FLOW Stage #1) Struggle

Technically this isn’t a kind of flow, but the lack thereof. So why would we talk about it? Well, it’s the form of flow most of us are familiar with. There’s a huge gush of love/money/inspiration, and then nothing. Or, try as we might, we can’t squeeze a drop of regularity out of that faucet.

This is where most of us live, and its the baseline we’ve been taught to accept since childhood. So we have to start there.

Struggle is sort of the “default level of flow” that most of us experience in our daily reality our entire lives, if we don’t make a radical shift. We find that one friend who really loves us for who we are. We get the one great idea—and run with it for dear life. We get a little bit of extra money and cling to it like it’s a life raft on the open sea.

We sometimes think that Struggle happens to us because we’re born into poverty, or that’s all we’ve ever seen amongst other people in our lives. But Struggle isn’t a fixed state. It’s learned and it’s perpetuated. If you grow up thinking Struggle is the norm, you’ll do things that undercut your ability to step into FLOW and cause you to perpetuate Struggle–because that’s what you know.

Stepping past Struggle begins with identifying a Struggle-based mindset in your life.

The trick with Struggle is that we think it’s the natural default pattern of God’s universe. In reality, it’s not what He intended to give us. So many times in Scripture, when God refers to himself, He refers to rivers, abundance and blessing. None of those images or terms have anything to struggle. El Shaddai is sometimes translated “The God Who Is Sufficient.”

There’s nothing sufficient about Struggle!

FLOW Stage #2) Basic FLOW

Basic FLOW, plain and simple by itself, is the next stage of this progression. When you’re operating in FLOW, you’ve stepped beyond the daily struggle for “just enough” and embraced the idea that you can have a steady supply of what you need, not just little bits here and there.

Once you understand the principle of the steady supply, you must embrace it in your thinking and in your heart. God says that we must believe first in order to receive. When you believe not just in your head, but in your heart and in your body (deep down to your toes—yes, you can feel this!), this is when you will really see your outward reality begin to shift to match your inward convictions.

When I first began to shift my thinking and live from a place of FLOW, my outward reality didn’t look all that great. I didn’t have a job or a business. I was living dollar to dollar (literally) and didn’t have a home at all. Yet my needs (and even many of my wants) were supplied on a per-day basis. Whatever I needed at that time came to me naturally. Even though my circumstances wouldn’t have looked so grand to anyone else, I actually found a lot of joy and ease by relaxing into that flow!

At the right time, a new home, financial supply and other things came back to me. But until then, all my physical, emotional and spiritual needs were still met. This is FLOW.

FLOW Stage #3) OverFLOW

OverFLOW is the highest form of flow. It’s the state that happens when you’ve gotten past struggle as your baseline and truly accepted that having enough for every day is God’s will and plan for you. As you see your “enough” show up again and again and again—even when it seems to be coming “out of nowhere”—your faith is strengthened, and God is able to bless you with more than enough.

That is the definition of OverFLOW.

Now, instead of having just enough to get by, you actually havE money left over at the end of the month, love left over in the relationship, and more creative ideas than you can actually tackle at one time. You have choices: do you invest in people/resources/art you’ve always wanted? Or do you “bank” what you have? Or do you outright give it away?

Actually having these decisions to make is a clue you’re coming into a place of OverFLOW. It also means you have to start thinking in a whole new way: toward your legacy and not just for the sufficiency of your daily needs. Where do you believe God wants you to be next year, in five years or ten years? How will you steward your resources not just for yourself but for others?

OverFLOW is the beautiful, amazing, harmonious state where you not only believe for what will meet your needs now, but for that which will meet your needs later and take care of everyone else’s. It’s where you don’t have to think twice about luxuries (like ordering in your groceries, eating out at a really nice restaurant or going on vacation) because doing so won’t “rob” from your baseline needs or affect your ability to give to others.

The trick is, you don’t get to OverFLOW by wishing or hoping. You must cultivate a conviction–right now, wherever you’re at–that everything you have is supplied at the right time. You have to learn how to cultivate that faith while you’re in a place of Struggle, which brings you to FLOW, which then allows you to believe for more and more and more in OverFLOW.

Faith is a muscle. So is FLOW. It must be exercised in order to see it really grow stronger.

I would imagine there’s a 4th stage of Over-OverFLOW, and when I get there I can tell you all about it!

– – –

What about you? Which stage defines your life right now?

What are you willing to do to upshift to the next level?

4 Things Instagram Won’t Tell You About Traveling the World

I don’t know about you, but I really hate false advertising.

I mean, yes, I work in the marketing industry. But I still like to inject the truth in my marketing copy as much as possible. Well here’s a truth no Instagram travel feed will ever tell about wandering the planet:

It’s the dumbest, craziest, most exhausting, most stressful thing you’ll ever do.

Forget glossy photos of mountaintop conquests, bicycle rides through rainforests, and the obligatory compassionate shot with the locals. Those photos may have #nofilter, but there’s hiding a few things about what went into taking that shot. This is why I intentionally don’t improve my photography—or use a lot of filters to make it look better.

I want it to be 100% real.

So here’s the 100% bona ride truth about this sexy, everybody-wants-to-do-it thing called living out of a suitcase.

1) Prepare to be disoriented.

Sure, as a world traveler you develop the skills to drop into any culture and get your basic needs covered before you go out to explore. Local currency, check. Local SIM for your phone, check. A basic roof over your head and a working knowledge of whether or not you can drink the water? Preferably vetted by someone else other than your first bout of dysentery? Absolutely.

But that’s just the beginning. Your days and nights are probably turned around. Words even in English may not mean the same thing. And the number of possibilities for getting a ticket or fine for something that’s known by everyone else—but not posted on a sign for your benefit—are almost Code Red level.

For the better part of my year of traveling, disorientation was my status quo. I didn’t always get a lot done. Even when I had work, I struggled sometimes to be efficient.

No, being a “laptop entrepreneur” for me did not mean sitting at the beach, coding on my iPad, while I slurped my cocktail out of a coconut.

It meant fighting jet lag while I dodged from location to location, looking for reliable WiFi and trying not to get hit by a bus, taxi or tuk tuk in the process. All while calculating what time it was in my client’s country and whether or not I had missed a deadline.

I dare you to find a travel blogger who posts that photo. “Oh look, here’s what’s left of my shattered ankle after my jet-lagged self ran in front of a bus accidentally when I finally saw a Starbucks with a Free WiFi sign.”

2)  Most suitcases don’t come with space for your personal makeup artist and wardrobe assistant.

Oh sure, I love a great travel blogger’s Instagram feed as much as the next person. But clearly they’re not traveling Economy on a budget airline. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I can’t fit a whole MAC makeup store in my one small suitcase. Or the entirety of H&M (for all those obligatory third-world photo shoot wardrobe changes). Or the staff it would take to look that good on site.

Maybe I missed out this course in World Traveler School: “How to Look Amazing in Every Single Photo 101.” Or maybe that was the class after I skipped out because I had a plane ticket somewhere.

Either way, that hasn’t been my experience.

There’s a reason why I choose to show “normal” photos on this blog, and always will. I mean, there’s no reason not to at least try to be presentable. But I live my normal life in the Goodwill wardrobe God provided for me before I left America. And in case anyone’s wondering, the Arabian desert is just waaaaaay too hot to be sporting much makeup. (I need to ask the amazingly-air brushed Arab women I meet exactly how they manage to do it… because they do look amazing!)

Bottom line: living abroad is just living a normal life with all kinds of extra complications. And less space for all the cool, extraneous stuff we forget we have access to at home.

 

3) Everything takes way more time, for possibly less results. (Other than your increase in patience and a plethora of good stories to tell.)

Somebody, please show me the travel blog where the blogger highlights what it’s like to spend 1.5 hours on a metro to go what would take 30 minutes by car. Or what happens when you stand in line at the visa office, only to be told the official you need is “out for tea.” And let’s not talk about all the sleep you miss, showing up at midnight to wait for the 1 AM bus to Berlin, so you’re absolutely sure you don’t miss it.

Yes, my specificity betrays me. I actually did do that once. In the middle of freaking January ….

Time is a hard thing to represent in photos when there’s no time lapse. It’s like a movie: all the hard work, plus months or years of failures and growth, get reduced down to a montage with upbeat music.

I sure wish my job search in Dubai could be collapsed into a montage. Preferably with a Tina Turner song behind it to keep my eyelids open while I fill out more applications.

But no such luck. Living in a place whose norms you don’t fully understand will always require a price in time.

Sure, the great stories and a lot of personal growth come from these experiences. But if you’re looking to do things the most efficient way possible, don’t travel abroad.

3) Sandy feet. Sandy legs. Sandy hair. Are you sensing a theme here?

Honestly, I never need a shower so badly every day than when I live somewhere I’m not accustomed to. Grime from bus exhaust. Crusted sweat from the heat and humidity. And here, in the UAE, so much sand everywhere all the time.

I love it all, because it means I’m fully living and showing up for my life.

But WOW is that a lot of weird grainy gunk going down my bathtub every day.

Somebody take a photo of THAT. I dare you. Just once, show the world the real uncensored truth. (Of what’s going down the bathtub drain, not you IN the bathtub, please.)

But I’m guessing no one will take me up on it.

I mean, there are some things even I won’t put in my Instagram travel feed. Mostly because, well, I have my travel blogger image to maintain.

 

A REAL TRAVEL BLOGGER ON A REAL DAY. I’M GUESSING THE HAIR WAS COURTESY BERLIN WINTER DAMPNESS, THE BLOODSHOT EYEBALLS CAME FROM JET LAG. AND THE LOOK ON MY FACE? WELL, ASK THE CAT. HE CAN PROBABLY GIVE YOU MORE DETAILS…

2)  Most suitcases don’t come with space for your personal makeup artist and wardrobe assistant.

Oh sure, I love a great travel blogger’s Instagram feed as much as the next person. But clearly they’re not traveling Economy on a budget airline. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I can’t fit a whole MAC makeup store in my one small suitcase. Or the entirety of H&M (for all those obligatory third-world photo shoot wardrobe changes). Or the staff it would take to look that good on site.

Maybe I missed out this course in World Traveler School: “How to Look Amazing in Every Single Photo 101.” Or maybe that was the class after I skipped out because I had a plane ticket somewhere.

Either way, that hasn’t been my experience.

There’s a reason why I choose to show “normal” photos on this blog, and always will. I mean, there’s no reason not to at least try to be presentable. But I live my normal life in the Goodwill wardrobe God provided for me before I left America. And in case anyone’s wondering, the Arabian desert is just waaaaaay too hot to be sporting much makeup. (I need to ask the amazingly-air brushed Arab women I meet exactly how they manage to do it… because they do look amazing!)

Bottom line: living abroad is just living a normal life with all kinds of extra complications. And less space for all the cool, extraneous stuff we forget we have access to at home.

3) Everything takes way more time, for possibly less results. (Other than your increase in patience and a plethora of good stories to tell.)

Somebody, please show me the travel blog where the blogger highlights what it’s like to spend 1.5 hours on a metro to go what would take 30 minutes by car. Or what happens when you stand in line at the visa office, only to be told the official you need is “out for tea.” And let’s not talk about all the sleep you miss, showing up at midnight to wait for the 1 AM bus to Berlin, so you’re absolutely sure you don’t miss it.

Yes, my specificity betrays me. I actually did do that once. In the middle of freaking January ….

Time is a hard thing to represent in photos when there’s no time lapse. It’s like a movie: all the hard work, plus months or years of failures and growth, get reduced down to a montage with upbeat music.

I sure wish my job search in Dubai could be collapsed into a montage. Preferably with a Tina Turner song behind it to keep my eyelids open while I fill out more applications.

But no such luck. Living in a place whose norms you don’t fully understand will always require a price in time.

Sure, the great stories and a lot of personal growth come from these experiences. But if you’re looking to do things the most efficient way possible, don’t travel abroad.

3) Sandy feet. Sandy legs. Sandy hair. Are you sensing a theme here?

Honestly, I never need a shower so badly every day than when I live somewhere I’m not accustomed to. Grime from bus exhaust. Crusted sweat from the heat and humidity. And here, in the UAE, so much sand everywhere all the time.

I love it all, because it means I’m fully living and showing up for my life.

But WOW is that a lot of weird grainy gunk going down my bathtub every day.

Somebody take a photo of THAT. I dare you. Just once, show the world the real uncensored truth. (Of what’s going down the bathtub drain, not you IN the bathtub, please.)

But I’m guessing no one will take me up on it.

I mean, there are some things even I won’t put in my Instagram travel feed. Mostly because, well, I have my travel blogger image to maintain.

Bra Burning, Awkward Stares and Other Things that Happen When you Become a Christian Hippie

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From the time I was small, my mother told me stories about the 70s. One of her favorites was about all the women who burned their bras.

I got the impression she didn’t think too much of idea. Especially when many of those women put their bras back ON again in the 80s and 90s to become die-hard career girls. I didn’t really have a big opinion myself, but I did secretly admire those women for saying “no” to yet another social custom designed to constrict them.

Thirty years later, I followed in their footsteps.

My path to becoming the “Real Me” (which happens to be quite hippie-like, as it turns out) didn’t happen right away. In fact, it took a break-up with a boyfriend I really cared about to help me see the truth.

I learned from him that if he had known how hippie I really was when we started dating — we never would have dated at all.

Having always presented with a rather “normal” exterior, I had no idea my hippie tendencies were incongruous with my appearance. But the more I considered his feedback, the more I realized he was absolutely right.

Right after this breakup, I got an invitation to spend five weeks in Colorado (AKA: Hippie Paradise!). I also did a 30-day fast from meat, dairy and eggs (ie: a Daniel fast) as part of a prayer challenge with a friend. And in the middle of that fast, God wanted me to release these foods from my diet, at least for awhile, by going vegan. I also decided to buzz my hair and … you guessed it … take off my bra for good.

One morning I just didn’t put one on after my shower. By noon, as per Holy Spirit instructions, both of the bras I owned were in the trash.

I did not put  a bra back on again for almost seven months. The closest I get is the built-in support of my workout shirts. And I couldn’t  have been happier.

Because of the time period wherein I released my bra, I’ve come to have greater peace and serenity in my body. I have also come to greater acceptance because I no longer worry about whether or how other people feel about my “lady parts.”

So what if they bounce? So what if the occasional nipple shows through my shirt? So what if my physique looks a bit “flatter” because my boobs are smaller and they no longer artificially “stand up?”

My appearance and my choices are not defined by others. God gave me these two awesome mammary glands to—hopefully someday—provide nourishment for my children.

They are part of who I am as a woman. And that’s just … that.

Please understand, I didn’t go around flaunting my figure or intentionally trying to make it obvious that I was not wearing a bra. I simply didn’t wear one. It was a point of omission that many people couldn’t seem to help noticing, however. Which is a cultural commentary in itself. Were my breasts the problem, or the society who had somehow cast them as “sinful” and “gasp-worthy” to be present in the room?

I don’t suggest that this practice is for everyone; however, I was amazed by the number of women—friends and complete strangers alike—who would come up to me and whisper in my ear that they’d like to do the same, but just didn’t *quite* have the gumption yet!

But I’m here to say: simply not wearing a bra is easy. Just like I simply avoided meat, dairy, eggs, honey or any other animal product (for the most part) during this time.

You just decide you want to do it more than you care what people think.

It’s the releasing your concerns over other people’s expectations that is the tricky (and involved) part.

Being a bit “countercultural” for me at this point in my journey wasn’t for the sake of making a point. It was out of obedience to what I believe God has asked of me. And out of my commitment to be radically and authentically … me.

A few years ago, I could never have made any of these choices, because I was so conditioned to please everyone else and make sure I didn’t stand out too much.

All I can tell you is: my life became  considerably more blessed when I took “off” all my concern over other people’s expectations. Even in my faith community my choices are considered a bit eccentric. But that’s totally okay.

I think we often believe that if we let go of social expectations, we’ll be ostracized. However, I have found the opposite to be true. In my case, people actually show me more respect—and there’s lots more to talk about.

Not to mention that most people don’t forget the woman who has a buzzed head and doesn’t wear a bra.

But hey, at least now, they remember my name.*

*NOTE: As the prompting of Holy Spirit, I have since begun wearing a bra again because of the season of life I’m stepping into here in the Middle East. However, I can feel the difference–I no longer need that garment to make me sexier or more desirable–and I trust I’ll never put “on” the old cultural baggage again when I put on that garment!

 

What It’s Really Like to Live under the Arabian Sun

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Nobody can really prepare you for life in the Arabian desert. Oh sure, they can tell you to bring your sunscreen and prepare to scuttle in and out of the air conditioning like a beetle between patches of shade.

But my God, that sun.

I’ve read that solar power will be the new oil fields in the Middle East—and if that’s even remotely true, I can believe it. From the moment I wake the sun is there, by turns bleaching the color from this muted landscape and touching its more brilliant elements with fire.

You want a rainy day? Forget it. Clouds? Maybe for an hour or two. Storms? Be prepared for a beach of sand on your balcony.

And let’s not talk about air conditioning …

Since the day I’ve arrived I’ve practically been a prisoner indoors: jumping from my air conditioned guesthouse, to the air conditioned bus, to the air conditioned metro, to the air conditioned shopping complexes, each accessible via air conditioned skywalks over the streets, so no one has to set foot outside.

Of course, not every part of town is so well endowed. The place where I sleep, the Dubai side of Al Nahda, on the border with the neighboring emirate, Sharjah, has no skywalks to be found. A trip to the grocery store or the nearby Sahara shopping center will cost you the sun’s standard fare: a dripping-wet body, an empty water bottle and a trip to the washroom to refresh your deodorant upon arrival.

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I try to understand how people lived here for thousands of years before air conditioning. All I can think is that they knew how to hydrate. And how to value the shade. And those lightweight, white and black garments that everyone wears? Well, there’s probably a ventilation secret to that, too.

In the U.S. I never spent much time in air conditioning. In fact, I used to carry a sweater with me everywhere even in the middle of summer, because I hated the air so much.

But here, I crave it like everyone else. I run. I dodge. I scuttle toward the next door, craving the first blast of A/C that gives me goosebumps as I cross the threshold.

Or if I am out, walking in Al Nahda for example, I find myself dodging across the street again and again to walk in the small patches of shade I can find.

It would seem that the beetle and I, we are more one than ever. I am less likely to squash him on the sidewalk—because we are both under the same sun. And we are both slaves to it.

Back at home, the concept of “the sun” really meant so little to me. Sure, it was beautiful and I loved it. But here the sun is so much more than an enhancement to my day. Here, it is the fiery ruler of the sky, the overbearing taskmaster whom no one could forget even if she tried.

I am reminded of the verse in Matthew 13:43:

Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their father. 

Once I would have considered this a beautiful, poetic sentiment. Now I realize it is also a declaration of power, of force and strength that demand to be reckoned with.

Anything that shines like the sun—if it’s the UAE sun, at least—must be full of blinding glory.

I dream of that day. And in the meantime, I’ll keep chasing the A/C …