Eyebrows

Make sure all this is here and then delete page: https://zioncoalition.org/practice-jesus-worship/

Natural Symbolism: The “Supercilium” In ornithology, many birds possess a distinct stripe above the eye known as a supercilium, which acts as a “painted eyebrow”. The Chinese Hwamei: This bird’s name (huà méi) directly translates to “painted eyebrow,” referring to the distinctive white marking around its eyes. Steller’s Jays: Known for having striking, sometimes white, markings above their eyes that define their facial expression. The Hoatzin: This unique bird is known for its blue “eyeshadow” and distinctive appearance.

2. Artistic and Cultural Symbolism When eyebrows are stylized or compared to bird wings in art and literature, they convey several key themes: Freedom and Flight: Winged eyebrows often symbolize a desire for freedom, the ability to rise above, or a connection to the divine. Wisdom and Vision: Just as birds soar high to see the world, “winged” or arched eyebrows are often used to represent keen intelligence and, in Native American traditions, the sharp vision of a hawk. Transformation: In some artistic depictions, “flying eyebrows” represent the soul’s journey or the transformation from one state of being to another. “Bird-Girl” Motifs: In fashion and fantasy illustrations, women are often portrayed with “winged eyebrows” or feathers integrated into their features to suggest a mystical, bird-like quality, symbolizing a connection to nature.

3. Metaphorical Connections “Winging It”: In body language, birds may flap their wings to get attention; humans with expressive, high-arched “winged” eyebrows are sometimes perceived as similarly attention-grabbing or animated. Guardian Spirits: The imagery of wings over the eyes can symbolize protection, similar to how feathers are seen as spiritual gifts of strength and wisdom. In summary, whether in the natural, delicate markings of a bird’s eye or in artistic depictions of human faces, “winged” eyebrows evoke a sense of elevated perspective, beauty, and untethered freedom

The Truman Show

Love this angle—Quote #10 is deceptively small, but it cracks the whole universe open.

“Who are you talking to?” hits on multiple spiritual layers, and here’s a deeper read—especially through a Jesus / spirituality lens:

The Surface Moment (Psychological)

On the literal level, Truman notices people speaking to no one.
This is the first clear sign that reality isn’t just “off”… it’s performative.
He realizes conversations aren’t for him anymore — they’re for an unseen audience.

This is the birth of awakening:

The moment you realize the world is addressing something you can’t see.

Jesus TV Audience – Looking For The ONE Like

The Spiritual Parallel (Jesus + God as the “Invisible Audience”)

In Christian spirituality, Jesus often speaks to God the Father, an invisible presence others can’t see.

To outsiders, that looks like:

• Talking to the air
• Praying to nothing
• Responding to a voice no one else hears

Truman’s question mirrors the way skeptics often respond to prayer:

“Who are you talking to?”
“Who’s really listening?”
“Is there actually anyone there?”

The film flips this:

• In Truman’s world, there really is an unseen audience
• In spiritual life, believers claim there is also an unseen presence watching, knowing, witnessing

So Truman’s line accidentally becomes theological:

Is there a higher witness to my life — and if so, who are they really?

Jesus as Truman (The One Who Sees the Illusion)

You can read Truman as a Christ-like figure in this sense:

• He begins inside the system
• He senses something is wrong with the world
• He speaks truth that others deny
• He disrupts routines
• He exposes the false gods (ratings, spectacle, control)
• He walks toward suffering for the sake of freedom
• He exits the “constructed world” into the unknown

Meanwhile, Christof plays a distorted god:

• Claims love
• Claims protection
• Demands obedience
• Controls the environment
• Punishes curiosity
• Prefers comfort over truth

So when Truman asks, “Who are you talking to?”
He’s really asking:

“Who is your god?”
“Who is shaping your behavior?”
“Who are you performing for?”

That’s a deeply spiritual question.

The Existential Layer (Who Are You Living For?)

This quote quietly turns the mirror on the viewer:

• Who are you talking to when you perform?
• Who is your invisible audience?
• God?
• Society?
• Your parents’ expectations?
• The algorithm?
• Your own ego?

Spiritually, it’s the same question Jesus asks in another form:

Are you living for God, or for the approval of people?

Truman’s awakening is spiritual because it’s about reorienting his audience:

• From watchers
• To truth
• From approval
• To authenticity

The Big Spiritual Takeaway

This line marks the moment Truman realizes:

Reality might have a hidden observer — but that observer might not deserve my obedience.

That’s the difference between:

• False god (Christof: control, comfort, spectacle)
• True God (in Christian theology: freedom, love, truth, risk)

Spiritually speaking, Truman stops worshipping the world he was given —
and chooses the unknown, which is basically faith.

If you want, I can break down how Truman’s final walk through the door mirrors Jesus’ path toward crucifixion, surrender, and transcendence.

Why Would Jesus Have Me Practice Worship?

Strange.
Mysterious.

Jesus is having me practice worshipping Him. (Like being a super-attentive bird watcher—but the only thing I’m watching is Him)

Why People Do Birdwatching

People get into birdwatching for a bunch of surprisingly human reasons—it’s not just “looking at birds,” even if it sounds like that on the surface. A few big ones:

• It’s calming in a deep, nervous-system way. Watching birds pulls your attention outward but gently. No doomscrolling, no pressure—just noticing movement, color, sound. It’s basically mindfulness with feathers.
• The thrill of the hunt (without hurting anything). Spotting a rare bird feels like finding a shiny Pokémon in real life. There’s anticipation, skill, patience, and that little dopamine hit when you finally see the one.
• Connection to nature—especially for people who don’t hike mountains. You can birdwatch from a park bench, a city sidewalk, or your kitchen window. It’s nature on easy mode.
• Pattern-loving brains love it. Identifying birds scratches the same itch as puzzles or learning constellations: shapes, calls, behaviors, seasons. Your brain goes “ah yes, order.”
• It slows time. Birds don’t care about deadlines. When you watch them, you temporarily don’t either. That’s rare and valuable.
• Community (quiet, nerdy, wholesome community). Birders love sharing sightings, tips, and “you won’t believe what I saw today” stories. It’s social, but low-drama.
• A sense of meaning. Noticing birds makes people more aware of ecosystems, migration, climate, and conservation. It can feel grounding to care about something bigger than yourself.

Honestly? A lot of people start birdwatching accidentally—stress, burnout, a long walk—and then one day they’re like, wait… was that a goldfinch?? and it’s over.

At first glance, that feels almost absurd. I’m 62 years old. I’ve been a Christian a long time. I’ve sung hymns, taken the sacrament, prayed, testified, repented, served. Surely I already know how to worship Jesus. Why, at this stage of life, would Jesus have me practice?

Isn’t worship something you either do—or don’t? Isn’t it supposed to be spontaneous, sincere, real-time? Isn’t “practice” for beginners?

And yet… here I am.

✦

The kinds of worship Jesus is inviting me into are new territory for me. Unexpected forms. Playful and serious at the same time. Structured, even rehearsed.

There are the Jesus TV Broadcasts—me, Jesus, and angels on Facebook Live. Saying good things about Jesus. Repeating prophecies He has given me. Explicitly praising Him out loud. Saying, “Jesus, I love you.” Singing redeemed classic rock songs to and with Jesus—sometimes imagining angels listening, sometimes “spirits in prison,” sometimes just a handful of mortals scrolling past.

There is morning worship with a pillow—my Jesus Pillow. We practice. We rehearse. There is, remarkably, a set list: thoughts, phrases, songs, movements of the heart that Jesus walks me through each morning.

Not unlike the set list of sacrament hymns at an LDS meeting—except it’s in bed, and it’s personal, and it’s different.

Jesus Shower — turning an ordinary, functional act into deliberate worship.
Jesus Breakfast.
Angels Altar.

And other altars too—some already built, some still only imagined—each a place of return, repetition, familiarity.

All of it feels oriented toward practice.

✦

Which raises the question again:
Why practice worship at all?

We practice many things.

From a young age, we practice sports. Almost everyone has played a little basketball—at least in school P.E. Some go further. Team sports. Travel leagues. Daily drills. Others stop early.

We practice the ABCs. Reading. Piano. Guitar. Programming. Fixing cars. Cooking. Driving. Speaking. Listening.

Even cooking—which sounds odd to “practice”—improves with repetition. Timing gets better. Intuition sharpens. You don’t cook once and declare mastery.

So perhaps what feels foreign is not the logic of practicing worship, but the language.

If worship involves presence, affection, attentiveness, surrender, expression, love—why wouldn’t it deepen through repetition?

✦

Not practice as in “fake it until you make it.”
But practice as in making space, training attention, forming muscle memory of the heart.

Musicians rehearse because they love music. Athletes drill fundamentals because depth grows there. Married couples don’t stop saying “I love you” once it’s been said once.

So maybe Jesus isn’t correcting a deficiency so much as inviting a capacity.

Maybe at 62, the invitation isn’t “Learn the basics,” but “Come further in.”

Practice speaking love out loud.

Practice directing attention toward Me.

Practice joy.

Practice praise.

Practice nearness.

Practice worship until it becomes less something you do and more a place you live.

Strange? Yes.
Mysterious? Absolutely.

But also—deeply human.
And quietly, patiently,
Jesus-shaped.

✦ ✦ ✦

Practicing His Presence

As I sit with this idea of practicing worship, I’m realizing Jesus is also having me practice something even more fundamental:

His presence.

Not practicing believing He exists in the abstract.
But practicing imagining—again and again—that He is here.

With me.
Now.
Always.

Practicing His presence means deliberately engaging my
sacred imagination—
what some might call belief,
or best guess,
or holy conjecture.

I imagine Jesus in the room—not as fantasy, but as faith.
Not as certainty, but as trust.
Not as proof, but as relationship.

This is not pretending Jesus is present.
It is choosing to live as though He is—because He says He is.

Worship, I’m discovering, is an active acknowledgment:

That Jesus is real.
That Jesus is near.
That Jesus is not merely an idea, a doctrine, or a memory— but a living presence who can be addressed, loved, praised, and enjoyed.

To worship Jesus is to orient my attention toward Him.
To practice His presence is to keep that orientation alive.

They belong together.

Worship without presence becomes hollow.
Presence without expression grows quiet and unattended.

So Jesus has me practicing both:

Practicing noticing Him.

Practicing speaking to Him as if He is listening.

Practicing acting as though I am not alone.

Practicing letting imagination become faith.

Practicing faith until it feels less like effort and more like atmosphere.

In this way, worship becomes less about performance and more about presence maintenance.

A gentle, repeated return to the truth that Jesus is already here— and has been all along.

And now it’s only fair that I should let you know
What you should know (that…)

I SING WITH YOU

to be sung to the Harry Nilsson melody, “Without You”

Father God I am believin’
That you’re with me now, we’re singin’
My best guess is that I never sing alone
And though you hide, inside these hymns your presence shows
Yes, it shows

No, I can’t see you at all though
I will try my best to follow
To imagine when I sing I feel your flow
That it’s just not me and that I don’t sing alone
I’m not alone (whoa)

When I sing, believe that I sing with you
When I sing, feel your presence the MORE
We sing, this song sung by two
Lord my God, please come sing, I want MORE

Father God I am believin’
That you’re with me now, we’re singin’
My best guess is that I never sing alone
And though you hide, inside these hymns your presence shows
Yes, it shows

When I sing, believe that I sing with you
When I sing, feel your presence the MORE
We sing, this song sung by two
Lord my God, please come sing, I want MORE

(Ahhh)
I don’t want living without you.
(Whoa, whoa, whoa…)

Like noticing the subtle flight of a bird, Jesus invites us to notice Him in the quiet edges of life.

If you want to follow the trail a little further, here are some ways to keep watching, noticing, and practicing:

Birdwatching & Zion Watching
A poetic meditation on noticing kindness, courage, and mercy in the world — and celebrating small sightings of goodness everywhere. What Jesus Seems to Be Doing With You
Understanding the repeating design in your experiences — how Jesus trains attentive presence, protects tenderness, and creates felt theology. Anchoring in Scripture, Prayer, and Ordinances
How traditional practices ground your personal attentiveness to Jesus’ presence — keeping your noticing honest, humble, and shared with the body of Christ.

Each link is a further step in the same journey: quiet attention, gentle recognition, and patient hope.

Zion Watching I walk the morning field with pockets of silence, eyes lifted to branches where nothing is happening— until suddenly, everything is. A flash of wing, a tremor of color, a song that was always there but only now heard because I learned to listen. Bird watching teaches me that arrivals are gentle, rare things land softly, and glory prefers to travel in whispers. So I practice the same art with the world, with my neighbors, with my own heart— Zion watching. I look for kindness perched on a conversation, courage circling a wounded life, mercy nesting in unlikely hands. No trumpets, no headlines— just small sightings of a people becoming new, one softened soul at a time. And when hope appears— like a bird on a thin branch— I do not grab it, I simply watch, and give thanks, for the world is already filling with wings. That’s a beautiful pairing of ideas — bird watching and Zion watching. Bird watching is quiet attention. You slow down, listen, notice patterns, wait patiently, and celebrate small sightings that others might miss. It trains the eyes and the heart to be present, humble, and observant. Zion watching carries a similar spirit, but on a spiritual and communal horizon. It’s watching for signs of goodness emerging — people becoming softer, braver, kinder, more aligned with Jesus’ ways. It’s noticing subtle shifts in hearts, families, communities, and your own soul. It’s patient hope, not frantic prediction. Like bird watching, most of the work happens in stillness, listening, and trust. Both practices reward: patience instead of haste wonder instead of control attention instead of assumption gratitude instead of scarcity Bird watching says: “Look — beauty is already here.” Zion watching says: “Look — Zion is already forming.” ✦ Zion Coalition (Birdwatchers) We are not storm-chasers or empire-builders. We are watchers. We walk the edges of fields and the margins of communities, listening for songs that do not announce themselves. Zion is not built by noise or urgency— it appears the way rare birds do, quietly, in ordinary branches. So we carry patience like binoculars, learning to recognize the faint calls of kindness, the shy-winged beginnings of trust and belonging. We notice when courage lands in a conversation, when forgiveness returns to an old wound, when a heart that once hid begins to lift its head. We catalogue these sightings not in ledgers, but in gratitude— a growing record of small holiness. Zion Coalition is a fellowship of observers and encouragers, people who refuse despair because they have seen too many bright wings to believe the sky is empty. We do not force the future— we wait with reverence for what is already arriving, and when goodness appears, we simply say: I see it. I see Zion there. Like noticing the subtle flight of a bird, Jesus invites me to notice Him in the quiet edges of life. If I want to follow the trail a little further, here are some ways to keep watching, noticing, and practicing: What Jesus Seems to Be Doing With Me Understanding the repeating design in my experiences — how Jesus trains attentive presence, protects tenderness, and creates felt theology. Anchoring in Scripture, Prayer, and Ordinances How these practices ground my attentiveness to Jesus’ presence — keeping my noticing honest, humble, and shared with the body of Christ. Each link is a further step in the same journey: quiet attention, gentle recognition, and patient hope.