Technology-Induced Need for Catharsis

Twice in the past week I've found myself in conversations relating to frustrating moments at the computer or with technology in general. I have to remind myself occasionally that my reaction should be registering a 1 or a 2 and I'm at a 10 (or higher!). I spoke with a friend this afternoon who is a professional videographer. He and I discussed the lack of physical catharsis in our work. We spend most of our frustrating moments working with technology, without a physical outlet for our pent-up emotions (I think of chopping wood, for example).

Interestingly enough, the word "catharsis" means: An experience of emotional release and purification, often inspired by or through art. In psychoanalysis, catharsis is the release of tension and anxiety that results from bringing repressed feelings and memories into consciousness.

"Often inspired by or through art." Not the result of hard, manual labor. Not the result of a 5-mile run. Not the result of 10 minutes with a punching bag.

So what happens, then, when we're too busy to stop for art? Too hurried to notice nature? Too caught up in our screens to listen to a song? Too wrapped up in work to stop for a puppet show or a tea party? Too tired to play pirates or princesses? Too fried to paint or sculpt or write?

When I press play on my CD player, I wish you could see the expressions on my baby girl's face. She absolutely LOVES music. As soon as she hears it, she lights up, she smiles, and she takes my hand along with her big brother's and begins to dance. We push the coffee table to the side of the living room and dance and dance and dance.

One of my favorite movie scenes comes from Life is Beautiful. In the midst of a dull, gray, cold concentration camp, the main character devises a way to broadcast classical music over the loudspeaker. Everyone stops. You can almost feel the intensity of their depravity in a single moment--yet, somehow, there is hope.

Every time I let myself stop and really take in Jenn Johnson's song "A Little Longer," I can't help but cry. That song leaves me completely undone (and, according to the definition of "catharsis," purified and cleansed). Jenn wrote "A Little Longer" after the birth of her baby girl. She transitioned from a lifestyle of writing songs with her husband, leading worship at Bethel Church in Redding, and traveling to help invite others into a sweet place of intimacy with the Father . . . to sleepless nights nursing a newborn, receiving gifts of spit-up and soiled diapers, staring at mountains of laundry with absolutely no energy left. From this place, she wrote "A Little Longer." Take a minute to listen--really listen. Drink it in. Close your eyes. Allow your spirit to connect with His. What if all He wants right now is one moment more?

What is worship? For me, one expression of worship happens when I corporately gather with other Believers and sing songs to our Great King. When I slow down, close my eyes, truly listen to the words, take in their meaning, offer them up to my Great God . . . I am often reduced to tears.

How brilliant of our Father to provide a way to release pent up emotions through the simple act of worship--an act that can happen no matter who we are, where we are, or what our circumstances. Slaves and prisoners who sing songs to each other--with each other--preserve their humanity with song, and hold onto hope. As a prisoner to my own fear, frustration, and unforgiveness, much healing has come simply from worshiping with reckless abandon.

My kids, who are 4 and 20 mos., stop to look at everything. They notice art and music where ever we go. They take in nature. They ask questions. They respond with raw emotion.

How cathartic.


This post is one of many featuring arts and culture: Watercooler Wednesday