the life and times of a twenty year old designer

Archive for May 2011

New Music Monday! (Worship Edition)

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I started listening to Gungor this week. And I don’t have a lot to say about him. Because it seems to me anyone who can play guitar like this:

And write lyrics like this:

Isn’t going to need my help inspiring people and changing the world 🙂


Written by Taylor Webster

May 30, 2011 at 5:07 pm

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Both a Beginning and an End

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Seems I’m continually apologizing for not writing frequently enough. I’m going to stop doing that and just write when I can. Here’s a brief essay on May that also sums up the semester.

Finals week was a blur of little sleep and high adrenaline. For a design student, finals week has little to do with tests and papers and a lot to do with projects. My workload consisted of typing up a 50-question take-home exam, creating a business plan for a new theatre company, finalizing my website, [which can be seen here at ] and designing the set for West Side Story, a project which turned out to be much more complicated and much more exciting than I had imagined. The week ended with some theatre traditions which are dear to my heart and which make our department feel like a family, including the departmental graduation, a small commencement held in our own home theatre, which is much more intimate that watching thousands of liberal arts students walk at Moby. At the end of the week I came out with lots of fond feelings for the department and a strong desire to keep going in my field, but not much by way of closure.

Except that I knew, very definitely, that something was over. Something I’ve been fighting to maintain for longer than I can remember. Without going into detail, I’ll just say that back in December, I wrote this in my journal:

I’ve spent my whole life being terrified of losing the things I care about. Now I’m about to lose the one thing I’ve taught myself matters the most. And it’s going to be okay.

Which was followed immediately by this:

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways. My word that goes out from my mouth, it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. – Isaiah 55

Back then, I couldn’t dream what all of this was going to entail. I had expected loss to reach one aspect of my life, which I had identified and was reluctantly struggling to accept. It wasn’t supposed to be multifaceted, reaching into aspects of my personal, academic, and spiritual lives. I did not anticipate it to be such a protracted process, with so many intense pangs of desire for things to return to what they once were. I did not expect it to be so closely linked to re-forming my identity.

And I could not have dreamed the ways in which joy and peace were delivered with the song of the hills and the dance of the trees. Where God was emptying out parts of my heart, closing doors I’d assumed would always be open, he was also filling me up more abundantly than I could have dreamed. Friendships were forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances, with people I’d never dreamed I’d meet. I feel blessed beyond measure to have been cared for by so many wonderful people.

I’m leaving Fort Collins in a few days, and will spend nearly two weeks in Denver before leaving for seven weeks of summer camp in Kentucky. I’m going to miss Fort Collins. It truly feels like home. It’s where I go to school, where I’ve finally found a church, where I cook and eat and sleep and go on long walks, and where I’ll be reunited with friends when fall begins. I think what is most exciting about leaving the people and places you love is the anticipation of just how sweet it will be to be reunited with them again. It’s nice to be able to go, and to know that you’ve got communities to come back to. When I leave this place, I want the process of loss and closed doors that began in December to be completed. What will come next will hopefully be a period of learning to grow, rooted in fresh soil untainted by the past and straining towards a marvelous light I can only hope to someday understand. 

So in the weeks to come, I’m in a sort of limbo between the life that has ended and the life that is about to begin. All I can offer to anyone who finds themselves in such a period,  who is wondering if they’ve got the strength to leave something behind or if they’re good enough for what is ahead, comes out to a series of cliches, but I mean them earnestly. Don’t be afraid to be happy and at peace, or think for a second you don’t deserve it. Find what lights your heart on fire, and work towards it with your whole being. Don’t cling to the past or live in dreams of the future, both of which can extend infinitely and leave no space in your mind to treasure the present as it passes you by. Hold everything in your life humbly, with open hands. And pray. Pray whenever you can. Pray bigger than you can imagine, and smaller than seems important. Because at the end of it all, there’s only one who is going to be able to make a whit of difference in whatever situation you’re thinking about. And he’s the one who created the universe. So. Let him handle the hard stuff.

And bask in the love you’ve been given. It’s everywhere, if you only know how to look for it.

Written by Taylor Webster

May 25, 2011 at 12:45 am

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New Music Monday!

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Listening to banjo music and dreaming of Kentucky. It’s only 40 days away.

Thank you, Horse Feathers, for providing an excellent dose of perspective and some lovely study music.

Written by Taylor Webster

May 2, 2011 at 11:18 pm

Posted in Music

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