The tree stripped
To brown bark bone
Pricks the sky
Urges it to come alive
Sun, come out from
Hiding in your
Blanket gray
Son, insist on shining though
The darkness moves
To stifle day
It's Christmas and
Your imagery consists
Of spackled, shadowed
Brush.
It's Christmas and
Your symphony persists
In yellowed, hazy
Hush.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
A Symphony of Stagnation
Even the wild, sunny
Backyard is imprisoned
In chainlink.
The hum of Christmas
Specials, new cds, ticking
Clocks, quiet conversations
Insists in its sameness,
Melodrama, monotony
And peace is pleasant
When its inner quiet
But when the world
Settles, striving
For nothing but
Sleep and rest
She cannot help but strain
To break away.
Backyard is imprisoned
In chainlink.
The hum of Christmas
Specials, new cds, ticking
Clocks, quiet conversations
Insists in its sameness,
Melodrama, monotony
And peace is pleasant
When its inner quiet
But when the world
Settles, striving
For nothing but
Sleep and rest
She cannot help but strain
To break away.
Christmas 2008
The grass today is
Crisp with frost,
Invisible but for
The sound when
Feet itching for activity
Jump upon the ground
The sun is out and
That makes my hopes
Rise even though
I didn’t know
That hopelessness had
Become the norm
Here in the farmlands
Of central Indiana
On a Christmas
Afternoon.
Crisp with frost,
Invisible but for
The sound when
Feet itching for activity
Jump upon the ground
The sun is out and
That makes my hopes
Rise even though
I didn’t know
That hopelessness had
Become the norm
Here in the farmlands
Of central Indiana
On a Christmas
Afternoon.
Sour Patch Kids
We like the red
And yellow.
So I eat double
My share of red
And yellow just
To fool myself
That you’re
With me here.
And yellow.
So I eat double
My share of red
And yellow just
To fool myself
That you’re
With me here.
Cold Feet
She’s not alone
Sufferer of
Swollen, iced-over
Feet, the
Only detriment to
Running outside,
Crunching black converse
On the snow-scattered
Grassy yard. She and
Her sister are allowed
To be children here,
Wondering at an Indiana
Winter’s golden hour
And breathing heavy
Just to see our
Breath.
Sufferer of
Swollen, iced-over
Feet, the
Only detriment to
Running outside,
Crunching black converse
On the snow-scattered
Grassy yard. She and
Her sister are allowed
To be children here,
Wondering at an Indiana
Winter’s golden hour
And breathing heavy
Just to see our
Breath.
Walls
I sit in a wood-planked room
With my own poetry
On the wall.
But five years is a long
Time ago. And rhymes lend
Their rhythm and
Also stagnate - distance -
Emotion.
I sit under the dark
Cover of night,
Shielded from the
-17 wind chill by
Walls that have embraced
Me as long as I can
Remember.
I sit in what was my
Grandparent’s house,
What now belongs
Only to my
Grandma, but his
Memories are
Whispered in the wood
Plank creaks, exposed in the
Cork board wall that
No longer stands, but
Still seems to cringe
in its own out-dated shame.
With my own poetry
On the wall.
But five years is a long
Time ago. And rhymes lend
Their rhythm and
Also stagnate - distance -
Emotion.
I sit under the dark
Cover of night,
Shielded from the
-17 wind chill by
Walls that have embraced
Me as long as I can
Remember.
I sit in what was my
Grandparent’s house,
What now belongs
Only to my
Grandma, but his
Memories are
Whispered in the wood
Plank creaks, exposed in the
Cork board wall that
No longer stands, but
Still seems to cringe
in its own out-dated shame.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Poetrizin' in Georgia
Rest Area No. 34
Gray fog slumbers,
the folds of her sagging
skin heavy with
sweat settling
over Rest Area No. 34,
over Rest Area No. 34,
etched into Georgia's
lanky frame.
Puddles reflect cool stone
although this winter gloom
of day is warm
and my heart holds
its breath still as
the fog, will
let out a sigh when its
done missing you.
Sifting the Air
Highways and
afternoons that
leave you
sifting the air for
even one streak of sunlight
but the green-gray of forests
and the clear gray of scattered
rain reflect only fog and clouds
and you struggle to
ignore numbed body
parts, the ache of
your hunched-over back,
sore from snaking
northward, bound for
the rural midwest.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Spontaneous Poetry (among other things)
The past few months
have carried with
them burdens,
those regrets and weaknesses and
mistakes and
character flaws,
ignored for so long
beneath a facade of progress.
The past few months
she trained her hardest
lifting weights
exercising limp muscle tissue because
she knew it was time,
time to struggle
in order to
toss broken and mildewed,
torn and stained,
burdens aside.
The past few months
were the truest progress
because that sharp knife of
vulnerability exposes the heart of one
more than meditation,
more than confession,
more than psychosis,
although these methods, in their own way,
were not a far stretch from
her emotional soul.
The past few months
brought poetry and music and love
and living
into a life stagnated by
oppression, depression,
obsession for things that
stifled her from living most freely,
most in the center of her desires,
most centered in God,
in his love and relationship
and stability.
The past few months
were meaningful, glorious, wrenching, torturous
the clearest instance
of fractured radiiance,
the beauty in the broken,
the necessity of feeling to really
live, to really grow.
And she will treasure those moments of
peace, kiss with joy those moments
that taught her.
The past few months,
like a blow to the lungs,
left her breathless, knocked her down
But the very life of God, of restoration,
replaced the stale
air of her regrets.
And she cannot wait to cherish
these next few months...
I'm actually way excited I just wrote that spontaneously.
I'm not sure what happened to hinder my timely update of this blog. Poetic technique exercises came to a near halt and my other classes demanded papers and homework and time-consuming study. But I'm still glad I have this thing. And I have really rather enjoyed this semester. My life has changed so unexpectedly. But I guess that's the joy of living, of letting God urge me where he wishes. I am so thankful for every experience and every struggle. It's been one of the most emotionally draining times in my life. But I like feeling; I like that the ice has melted and that my heart is no longer confined by apathy or bitterness. There are things I could have done better, people I could have loved better. But God is awesome. And my teachers have been awesome. And my classes and friends and boyfriend and family have been intriguing and helpful and loving. And I can't wait to wake up tomorrow because I know it holds promise and hope and a chance for more joy.
have carried with
them burdens,
those regrets and weaknesses and
mistakes and
character flaws,
ignored for so long
beneath a facade of progress.
The past few months
she trained her hardest
lifting weights
exercising limp muscle tissue because
she knew it was time,
time to struggle
in order to
toss broken and mildewed,
torn and stained,
burdens aside.
The past few months
were the truest progress
because that sharp knife of
vulnerability exposes the heart of one
more than meditation,
more than confession,
more than psychosis,
although these methods, in their own way,
were not a far stretch from
her emotional soul.
The past few months
brought poetry and music and love
and living
into a life stagnated by
oppression, depression,
obsession for things that
stifled her from living most freely,
most in the center of her desires,
most centered in God,
in his love and relationship
and stability.
The past few months
were meaningful, glorious, wrenching, torturous
the clearest instance
of fractured radiiance,
the beauty in the broken,
the necessity of feeling to really
live, to really grow.
And she will treasure those moments of
peace, kiss with joy those moments
that taught her.
The past few months,
like a blow to the lungs,
left her breathless, knocked her down
But the very life of God, of restoration,
replaced the stale
air of her regrets.
And she cannot wait to cherish
these next few months...
I'm actually way excited I just wrote that spontaneously.
I'm not sure what happened to hinder my timely update of this blog. Poetic technique exercises came to a near halt and my other classes demanded papers and homework and time-consuming study. But I'm still glad I have this thing. And I have really rather enjoyed this semester. My life has changed so unexpectedly. But I guess that's the joy of living, of letting God urge me where he wishes. I am so thankful for every experience and every struggle. It's been one of the most emotionally draining times in my life. But I like feeling; I like that the ice has melted and that my heart is no longer confined by apathy or bitterness. There are things I could have done better, people I could have loved better. But God is awesome. And my teachers have been awesome. And my classes and friends and boyfriend and family have been intriguing and helpful and loving. And I can't wait to wake up tomorrow because I know it holds promise and hope and a chance for more joy.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Pantoum (Untitled)
An assignment inspired by the Human Rights art exhibit at the Claude Pepper Center:
Fire truck red as the siren's glare
when the eye perceives lime most readily
the patriot's red, we stole with defiance
Why have we always conformed?
Orange is the shade of humid air
fire truck red as the siren's glare
orange is the shade of stagnant sand
when the eye perceives lime most readily
Humans marching toward orange
orange is the shade of humid air
drawn by the pheromones of a cosmic queen
orange is the shade of stagnant sand
Our minds are molded, constrained before me know
humans marching toward orange
and blister-footed children cry out
drawn by the pheromones of a cosmic queen
And smooth-skinned boys are camouflaged as men
our minds are molded, constrained before we know
red eyes, red blood, Red Flag
and blister-footed children cry out
And smooth-skinned boys are camouflaged as men
the patriot's red, we stole with defiance
and blister-footed children cry out
Fire truck red as a siren's glare.
Fire truck red as the siren's glare
when the eye perceives lime most readily
the patriot's red, we stole with defiance
Why have we always conformed?
Orange is the shade of humid air
fire truck red as the siren's glare
orange is the shade of stagnant sand
when the eye perceives lime most readily
Humans marching toward orange
orange is the shade of humid air
drawn by the pheromones of a cosmic queen
orange is the shade of stagnant sand
Our minds are molded, constrained before me know
humans marching toward orange
and blister-footed children cry out
drawn by the pheromones of a cosmic queen
And smooth-skinned boys are camouflaged as men
our minds are molded, constrained before we know
red eyes, red blood, Red Flag
and blister-footed children cry out
And smooth-skinned boys are camouflaged as men
the patriot's red, we stole with defiance
and blister-footed children cry out
Fire truck red as a siren's glare.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
I'm thankful for...
The clear blue of the Tallahassee sky.
A breezy, 65 degrees.
FSU maintenance staff who revel in what they understand as progress in American politics.
Starbucks sweetened, iced coffee (it's delicious; you should try it).
Letting go of petty regrets. All regrets are kind of petty in the long run.
Leftovers from TGI Fridays.
The way the sun shines through my movie posters plastered to Rogers' giant windows.
Poetry.
The ability to pray.
My yellow keds.
"O send out your light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling. Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy; and I will praise you with the harp, O God, my God. Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God." - Psalm 43:3-5
A breezy, 65 degrees.
FSU maintenance staff who revel in what they understand as progress in American politics.
Starbucks sweetened, iced coffee (it's delicious; you should try it).
Letting go of petty regrets. All regrets are kind of petty in the long run.
Leftovers from TGI Fridays.
The way the sun shines through my movie posters plastered to Rogers' giant windows.
Poetry.
The ability to pray.
My yellow keds.
"O send out your light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling. Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy; and I will praise you with the harp, O God, my God. Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God." - Psalm 43:3-5
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Butterfly
The delicate
hollows of her skeleton
exhale an untainted beauty
as this southern cold front
traces ripples onto
spotted wings;
she obeys her fate,
to direct eyes wearied by
the bloodshot of modern monotony
to the perfect imperfection of
scented flowers,
but in the flurry of her anxious
dance
she takes the magic
she possesses, she touches,
for granted.
hollows of her skeleton
exhale an untainted beauty
as this southern cold front
traces ripples onto
spotted wings;
she obeys her fate,
to direct eyes wearied by
the bloodshot of modern monotony
to the perfect imperfection of
scented flowers,
but in the flurry of her anxious
dance
she takes the magic
she possesses, she touches,
for granted.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Two Day Variance
Poems I wrote on Tuesday and Thursday last week. The weather provided quite the contrast:
Up before the sun
has tossed away his sheets
Awake as the day
climbs Tallahassee hills,
its muscles aching
in the dry chill of early
Fall,
Open eyes and thirsty ears
Absorbing the bird-song green
of morning.
The world is dim today
and I ponder the contrast
between the green fragrance of sunlit grass
and this earth enveloped in gray.
Up before the sun
has tossed away his sheets
Awake as the day
climbs Tallahassee hills,
its muscles aching
in the dry chill of early
Fall,
Open eyes and thirsty ears
Absorbing the bird-song green
of morning.
The world is dim today
and I ponder the contrast
between the green fragrance of sunlit grass
and this earth enveloped in gray.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Because at the Beach
Because God personifies
glory
we revel in the sting
of sand
on our feet
Because he chose the
blustery scattering
of salt wind and
fall sea
we smile back at
nothing at all
Because we know that
the rainstick sings
for us and proclaims
a God who is
Glorious.
glory
we revel in the sting
of sand
on our feet
Because he chose the
blustery scattering
of salt wind and
fall sea
we smile back at
nothing at all
Because we know that
the rainstick sings
for us and proclaims
a God who is
Glorious.
Spidery Offspring
Spidery offspring
scampering their beige
underbellies
winds in predatory pursuit
provoked by coal-lined clouds
immobilized
because they wonder at such beauty
sand stops in the crevice of
your Bible's cover
and traces the cracks
of a car-key pod
ancient glass filaments erode
synthetic plastics, rubbers, paints
and you're being stalked by a
digital camera chronicling today
in images that will always fail to
convey the experience.
scampering their beige
underbellies
winds in predatory pursuit
provoked by coal-lined clouds
immobilized
because they wonder at such beauty
sand stops in the crevice of
your Bible's cover
and traces the cracks
of a car-key pod
ancient glass filaments erode
synthetic plastics, rubbers, paints
and you're being stalked by a
digital camera chronicling today
in images that will always fail to
convey the experience.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Lost.
Cringe
as the crow
caws its fury
of burning defiance,
Your hand
inflamed.
The smoke stack mocking
common sense
and tea
and written language.
Cardboard glaring.
Don't judge me
I am real
I make sense.
Your hand
tribal dances,
spinning,
and evolution is lost.
This is me trying to be abstract for a class assignment.
as the crow
caws its fury
of burning defiance,
Your hand
inflamed.
The smoke stack mocking
common sense
and tea
and written language.
Cardboard glaring.
Don't judge me
I am real
I make sense.
Your hand
tribal dances,
spinning,
and evolution is lost.
This is me trying to be abstract for a class assignment.
Ziploc
Sealed fresh
in her ziploc bag
freezer ready, ready
to wait
since mortals do not favor
death
her dead muscles will
be preserved
like ice-hardened chicken
breast, long gone
in that ice chest under
six feet of earth and
worms and various
compost
until God takes her out,
check for freezer burn
and she thaws
alongside the wine
that toasts immortality.
in her ziploc bag
freezer ready, ready
to wait
since mortals do not favor
death
her dead muscles will
be preserved
like ice-hardened chicken
breast, long gone
in that ice chest under
six feet of earth and
worms and various
compost
until God takes her out,
check for freezer burn
and she thaws
alongside the wine
that toasts immortality.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Eating Alone
Here the mall is bright
Windows try to simulate
Authenticity
Camera flashes
Lightning bug in crisp fall air
Stagnant in the mall
Holiday desserts
Pumpkin chocolate sugared dough
Synthetic Starbucks
Dangerous lack of
My originality
Haiku in the mall.
Windows try to simulate
Authenticity
Camera flashes
Lightning bug in crisp fall air
Stagnant in the mall
Holiday desserts
Pumpkin chocolate sugared dough
Synthetic Starbucks
Dangerous lack of
My originality
Haiku in the mall.
My Lady Lover, Poetry
Where did she go,
her breath like melted chocolate
bittersweet
beckoning that flurry
of words to become
tangible emotion
how does noise create
apathy within this ballpoint
that blur of pulsing
bodies moves still
but I am still
and she is here
guilting me away from
bad habits
from coffee shops and
cookies
and she's silent when
all I hear is noise
carelessness, decay and
Hope
and she cannot leave me alone
again.
her breath like melted chocolate
bittersweet
beckoning that flurry
of words to become
tangible emotion
how does noise create
apathy within this ballpoint
that blur of pulsing
bodies moves still
but I am still
and she is here
guilting me away from
bad habits
from coffee shops and
cookies
and she's silent when
all I hear is noise
carelessness, decay and
Hope
and she cannot leave me alone
again.
Retail Therapy
Since everyone either went out of town or made plans this weekend, I am left to entertain myself. That normally isn't difficult at all; there's always a thought or a song or a rhyme or a squirrel to harass. But the past few weeks have been such a whirlwind of social interaction, homework, papers, and movies, changes, and minor stress, it's hard to know exactly what to do when left to my own devices. I haven't written much poetry this week either. Its as if I've felt so much and worried so much and enjoyed so much, to such a degree, that I can't even make those emotions universal or transform them into words. But I had a little poetry party in the mall foodcourt today and got a bit of that spark back. I really love poetry. I honestly find it magical when I can honestly free myself to write, using imagery and experiences rather than grandiose abstractions. Those things have been a hindrance lately because I've been trying too hard.
In other news, this semester has been the strangest one of my life. Half the time I feel as if I'm in a dream, a happy one, but it makes things strange nonetheless. Time is moving slowly, but still weeks seem to sneak by and I only notice when they're over. There are really good people in my life, though. Really really good. And even though I feel like God hasn't been speaking in words I can understand or helping me become active or fulfill some specific task, I see the ways in which He is blessing me and changing my perspectives and holding me accountable and forcing me to work for what I want. And I see the ways He is strengthening those who are near to me.
"'But let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,' declares the Lord." (Jer 9:24)
In other news, this semester has been the strangest one of my life. Half the time I feel as if I'm in a dream, a happy one, but it makes things strange nonetheless. Time is moving slowly, but still weeks seem to sneak by and I only notice when they're over. There are really good people in my life, though. Really really good. And even though I feel like God hasn't been speaking in words I can understand or helping me become active or fulfill some specific task, I see the ways in which He is blessing me and changing my perspectives and holding me accountable and forcing me to work for what I want. And I see the ways He is strengthening those who are near to me.
"'But let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,' declares the Lord." (Jer 9:24)
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
I believe I can fly.
The year after I graduate, I am going to visit here:
Moscowand teach English here:
Czech Republic Monday, September 29, 2008
I have an awesome sister.
This is what is written on the birthday card she sent to me:
"You are my sister and you are old. I mean REALLY old. Not just the, 'Oh, I'm 18, I can smoke,' but you are 20, not even a teenager anymore! Which seems so weird when I think about it. Although, nothing really new comes with being 20, just the fact that you can say you are completely above me or something - but I am pretty sure you've been saying that already for many years. Well, anyway, I hope your birthday is amazing, and that you love your gift, and get thrown in the fountain. Although you annoy me sometimes, you are an amazing sister and deserve an amazing adult-hood" - Jennifer
Thank you Jennnnny.
"You are my sister and you are old. I mean REALLY old. Not just the, 'Oh, I'm 18, I can smoke,' but you are 20, not even a teenager anymore! Which seems so weird when I think about it. Although, nothing really new comes with being 20, just the fact that you can say you are completely above me or something - but I am pretty sure you've been saying that already for many years. Well, anyway, I hope your birthday is amazing, and that you love your gift, and get thrown in the fountain. Although you annoy me sometimes, you are an amazing sister and deserve an amazing adult-hood" - Jennifer
Thank you Jennnnny.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The Prophet
a little stream of consciousness poetry to brighten your day:
time is mere, abstract framework
nonexistent
moving bodies
schools of sardines avoiding
the predatory sword
independence is trivial absence of framework
nonexistent
modern symphony
birds, construction trucks, cell phone conversations
ignoring
the pull of silence
noise is nothing.
time is mere, abstract framework
nonexistent
moving bodies
schools of sardines avoiding
the predatory sword
independence is trivial absence of framework
nonexistent
modern symphony
birds, construction trucks, cell phone conversations
ignoring
the pull of silence
noise is nothing.
Because we deserve
This is the self-entitled generation
threshing bitterness
declaring deceit
Because we deserve
more.
Cheating turns to triviality
cursing, conversational formality
hatred, let it flow through
the streets!
Because
we deserve more.
Letting failure let us fail
insisting failure isn't there
Victory at any cost
Because we
deserve more.
threshing bitterness
declaring deceit
Because we deserve
more.
Cheating turns to triviality
cursing, conversational formality
hatred, let it flow through
the streets!
Because
we deserve more.
Letting failure let us fail
insisting failure isn't there
Victory at any cost
Because we
deserve more.
Every Blade
Every blade of
brown-green
grass
Holds a memory
bears a secret
unlocks a feeling
Each blade listens
its ears toward the
sky
It knows
it feels
it touches
Human life.
brown-green
grass
Holds a memory
bears a secret
unlocks a feeling
Each blade listens
its ears toward the
sky
It knows
it feels
it touches
Human life.
Veil
There are times
when the world is so
lovely
you retreat
when your eyes are so bright
you veil your face
so as to not blind those
who are unaware,
unenchanted
by that magic.
when the world is so
lovely
you retreat
when your eyes are so bright
you veil your face
so as to not blind those
who are unaware,
unenchanted
by that magic.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Old City Cemetery
Bodies so ancient,
decayed down to marrow
mere calcium deposits
Jewels hidden beneath
stone, leaves as dead as this
mismatched village of
Warring Americans, witches, noblemen,
teachers, and infants
in their underground rabbit holes
So content, willing the
first leaves of autumn to
toss themselves earthward
In an effort to live
by dying in a patchwork
of sunlight and gray
And we were alive
and these spectres, by way of rustling
Leaves and bird songs, provoked
Us
to really live.
decayed down to marrow
mere calcium deposits
Jewels hidden beneath
stone, leaves as dead as this
mismatched village of
Warring Americans, witches, noblemen,
teachers, and infants
in their underground rabbit holes
So content, willing the
first leaves of autumn to
toss themselves earthward
In an effort to live
by dying in a patchwork
of sunlight and gray
And we were alive
and these spectres, by way of rustling
Leaves and bird songs, provoked
Us
to really live.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
My dorm looks better already.
Just wanted to showcase the beautiful elephant tapestry I bought this weekend and show viewers how my room looks with home accessories! Mary got me The Diving Bell and the Butterfly poster! :)
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Samplings from Class Reading
"But if I say, 'I will not mention Him or speak any more in His name,' His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot." - Jeremiah 20:9
"Of what paltry worth is human might - yet human compassion is divinely precious." - Abraham Heschel
"And we ought not to listen to those who warn us that 'man should think the thoughts of man', or 'mortal thoughts fit mortal minds'; but we ought, so far as in us lies, to put on immortality, and do all that we can to live in conformity with the highest that is in us; for even if it is small in bulk, in power and preciousness it far excels the rest." - Aristotle
"Therefore, wisdom must be intuition and scientific knowledge." - Aristotle
"And it is those who desire the good of their friends for the friends' sake that are most truly friends, because each loves the other for what he is, and not for any incidental quality." - Aristotle
I'm basically taking the best classes this semester.
"Of what paltry worth is human might - yet human compassion is divinely precious." - Abraham Heschel
"And we ought not to listen to those who warn us that 'man should think the thoughts of man', or 'mortal thoughts fit mortal minds'; but we ought, so far as in us lies, to put on immortality, and do all that we can to live in conformity with the highest that is in us; for even if it is small in bulk, in power and preciousness it far excels the rest." - Aristotle
"Therefore, wisdom must be intuition and scientific knowledge." - Aristotle
"And it is those who desire the good of their friends for the friends' sake that are most truly friends, because each loves the other for what he is, and not for any incidental quality." - Aristotle
I'm basically taking the best classes this semester.
Monday, September 8, 2008
For a Time
I've done a lot of inner searching by the way of various personality tests in the past week because my fundamentals of speech class finds it vital to understand oneself before one can understand the way in which one communicates with others in any social environment. I really love it. But what I'm realizing (well, I realized this a long time ago) is how much I overanalyze everything. And the way in which analytical study, though profound at times, can make us miss the small, simple, beautiful details in nature, in people, in improbable friendships. So I wrote a poem about it of course:
Today, I think
that art loses
its magic when it is analyzed
that tree, its limbs bowing
down to the lime of
grass lit by sunlight
is beauty
stop inquiring
into its nature, its past
its meaning
That breathy whistle
is not so much a
melody, a half-hearted
musical attempt
it is that hum of life,
that buzz of birds and
frogs and crickets and
train whistles and the
sound of spinning
rubber on asphalt
But I am a hypocrite
who analyzes everything
and now I hum because
the wind egged me on
and I realize that
with practice
I may perceive and feel
and maybe
cease to think
for a time.
Today, I think
that art loses
its magic when it is analyzed
that tree, its limbs bowing
down to the lime of
grass lit by sunlight
is beauty
stop inquiring
into its nature, its past
its meaning
That breathy whistle
is not so much a
melody, a half-hearted
musical attempt
it is that hum of life,
that buzz of birds and
frogs and crickets and
train whistles and the
sound of spinning
rubber on asphalt
But I am a hypocrite
who analyzes everything
and now I hum because
the wind egged me on
and I realize that
with practice
I may perceive and feel
and maybe
cease to think
for a time.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Lakehurst Tourney
Well-dressed gentlemen, outside in summer in hats and shoes.
They stare out onto this carnival plain like water buffalo
over untread rice fields
Bright green hopes, awaiting glory
A contrast in expression and demeanor
How normal that while one anxiously wills himself to foresee his success,
the other leans back, a contented smile
drawn like string cheese across his
pruny cheeks, a Biblical
Mary and Martha at the Lakehurst tournament
I struggle to choose between old Harry and Claude
Like choosing a house or a husband or shoes
I want to walk with them, ask
Claude why he leans,
ask Harry why he smiles.
Like Claude, I grow anxious
Will I be immortalized in a painting like him, and
even then,
have no time for a string cheese smile to
peel across my pruny cheeks?
Pardon me for how much this poem struggles. It was a difficult assignment, using phrases from an existing poem and drawing inspiration from a painting at the FSU Fine Arts Gallery.
They stare out onto this carnival plain like water buffalo
over untread rice fields
Bright green hopes, awaiting glory
A contrast in expression and demeanor
How normal that while one anxiously wills himself to foresee his success,
the other leans back, a contented smile
drawn like string cheese across his
pruny cheeks, a Biblical
Mary and Martha at the Lakehurst tournament
I struggle to choose between old Harry and Claude
Like choosing a house or a husband or shoes
I want to walk with them, ask
Claude why he leans,
ask Harry why he smiles.
Like Claude, I grow anxious
Will I be immortalized in a painting like him, and
even then,
have no time for a string cheese smile to
peel across my pruny cheeks?
Pardon me for how much this poem struggles. It was a difficult assignment, using phrases from an existing poem and drawing inspiration from a painting at the FSU Fine Arts Gallery.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Thought for the Day
As I walked back from class this morning, I recognized a couple that lived in my dorm last year. They've been together for at least two years. And I was thinking to myself, how lovely it must be to have that companionship; that's something everyone wants. But then I stopped and really thought about it. What makes that relationship so much more enviable than those relationships with loyal, loving friends or with family? If we stopped thinking about what we didn't have, if we started seeing what we do have, wouldn't that be enough to be content?
I feel like everyone I know is searching for a soulmate. But we have so much to be thankful for. Even outside the relationship sphere, people covet others' goals, talents, styles. We get so wrapped up in what we wish we were that we forget who we are. But it pays to be thankful for who we are in this moment: our flaws, our insecurities, but mostly our friends, activities, living situations, opportunities, and the love available to us in God and in others.
The water that pours from the faucets in my dorm is cloudy. But I can rest in the confidence that it is far cleaner than water in less fortunate parts of the world. And clean water is readily available to me within a leisurely walking distance.
I have so much and still I want more. I think that desire for more is really a desire for perfection, perfection that is unattainable on this earth because it does not exist in this place.
"Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." (1 Cor 13:12)
We have to wait it out. In the meantime, let's hope for the things that will truly make us better. Let's appreciate the things that make our lives so precious, that give our meager bodies and weak minds purpose.
I feel like everyone I know is searching for a soulmate. But we have so much to be thankful for. Even outside the relationship sphere, people covet others' goals, talents, styles. We get so wrapped up in what we wish we were that we forget who we are. But it pays to be thankful for who we are in this moment: our flaws, our insecurities, but mostly our friends, activities, living situations, opportunities, and the love available to us in God and in others.
The water that pours from the faucets in my dorm is cloudy. But I can rest in the confidence that it is far cleaner than water in less fortunate parts of the world. And clean water is readily available to me within a leisurely walking distance.
I have so much and still I want more. I think that desire for more is really a desire for perfection, perfection that is unattainable on this earth because it does not exist in this place.
"Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." (1 Cor 13:12)
We have to wait it out. In the meantime, let's hope for the things that will truly make us better. Let's appreciate the things that make our lives so precious, that give our meager bodies and weak minds purpose.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Hurricane
Overnight, without warning, the good adversary knocked at her door*
He came in unceasing torrents
as the leaves fell into a rain dance
that had been going on for centuries
praising the thickening clouds
the foreboding sky
Screaming, pushing the air
in an effort to escape tree limbs
From the cavern of her room, lit only by
strobes of light that rattled her windows
She saw him but did not answer
And, in time, he departed
The leaves losing their stamina
The night losing its shade
Waiting
For he would knock again.
*Line from Jane Cooper's Long Disconsolate Lines
He came in unceasing torrents
as the leaves fell into a rain dance
that had been going on for centuries
praising the thickening clouds
the foreboding sky
Screaming, pushing the air
in an effort to escape tree limbs
From the cavern of her room, lit only by
strobes of light that rattled her windows
She saw him but did not answer
And, in time, he departed
The leaves losing their stamina
The night losing its shade
Waiting
For he would knock again.
*Line from Jane Cooper's Long Disconsolate Lines
Monday, September 1, 2008
Revelation in Homework Assignments
I've been reading parts of the Old Testament's prophetic accounts for my Hebrew Prophets class and some of it is awesome. The faith, even the struggles and complaints of the prophets are encouraging.
For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings. (Hosea 6:6)
God wants us to know Him. And to really know Him fills us with the inexpressible understanding of His unconditional love.
You must not be partial in judging: hear out the small and the great alike; you shall not be intimidated by anyone, for the judgment is God's. Any case that is too hard for you, bring to me, and I will hear it. (Deuteronomy 1:17)
Bias always gets in the way of understanding people. We choose who we immediately like. But we are called to practice compassion impartially. And when the task becomes too great, God's got it.
...Turn to the Lord your God with all you heart and with all your soul. Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, "Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, "Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe. (Deut 30:10-14)
We start to wonder where God is, where His truth lies. So we leave a place of contentment and peace and wander without direction, hoping understanding will hit us someday. We must understand that turning to the Lord, really following Him, starts in the heart and that power flows through vocal cords and out our mouths, bringing hope to ourselves and revelation to others.
For what other great nation has a god so near to it as the LORD our God is whenever we call to him? (Deut 4:7)
We follow an imminent God. He's not a friend to take for granted. He demands reverence, but above all, He longs to enfold us in His love.
God is not a human being, that he should lie, or a mortal, that he should change his mind. Has he promised, and will he not do it? Has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it? (Numbers 23:19)
God is not a human being, that he should lie, or a mortal, that he should change his mind. Has he promised, and will he not do it? Has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it? (Numbers 23:19)
He's dependable. He's intelligent. He holds our confidence and refuses to disappoint us.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Red Patent Plastic
Red patent plastic
Scuffed at the heel
and the big toe on
the right shoe
A thin layer of dust
along the inside
The pressure of a foot
grinding this compilation
of organic ashes
ever farther into
well-worn fibers
Oh, the dischordant harmony
of man-made materials
and history in a medium of backyard
Dirt
Blending the facets of modern existence
Rendering them inseparable
Nothing remains of the purity.
Twenty-first century dirt, muddied
By hoity toity patent plastic.
Scuffed at the heel
and the big toe on
the right shoe
A thin layer of dust
along the inside
The pressure of a foot
grinding this compilation
of organic ashes
ever farther into
well-worn fibers
Oh, the dischordant harmony
of man-made materials
and history in a medium of backyard
Dirt
Blending the facets of modern existence
Rendering them inseparable
Nothing remains of the purity.
Twenty-first century dirt, muddied
By hoity toity patent plastic.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Haiku
The fountain is dry
Water fails to trickle from
Concentric Circles
The world is awake
Red-cheeked and dehydrated
Slow down for awhile
The palm trees are still
Staying cool in humid air
Planted, immobile
A boy I know sits
Pondering this world's facade
Something lies deeper
The sun is not high
It scorches epidermis
What power it holds
Water fails to trickle from
Concentric Circles
The world is awake
Red-cheeked and dehydrated
Slow down for awhile
The palm trees are still
Staying cool in humid air
Planted, immobile
A boy I know sits
Pondering this world's facade
Something lies deeper
The sun is not high
It scorches epidermis
What power it holds
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Looking In
Things I learned about myself today:
I am capable of having a panic attack.
I will shut down after too much stress.
Pursuing a Graduate degree in Religion may not be my calling if it means sacrificing all other interests, passions, as well as intellectual, social, and ministerial pursuits to compete effectively in academia.
Music means more to me than I understand. And being rejected and refused by FSU's music school and its affiliated programs has disappointed me more deeply than I would like to believe.
I just want to change people, live communally, make a difference. But God clearly articulates a message of peace: "My child, you are doing more than you know."
Sufjan Stevens and I are soulmates.
I run away from my problems. I take the easy way out.
I am intimidated by the young men in my life who could spur me on most effectively in my relationship with Christ. I settle and then wonder why I am disappointed.
I am capable of having a panic attack.
I will shut down after too much stress.
Pursuing a Graduate degree in Religion may not be my calling if it means sacrificing all other interests, passions, as well as intellectual, social, and ministerial pursuits to compete effectively in academia.
Music means more to me than I understand. And being rejected and refused by FSU's music school and its affiliated programs has disappointed me more deeply than I would like to believe.
I just want to change people, live communally, make a difference. But God clearly articulates a message of peace: "My child, you are doing more than you know."
Sufjan Stevens and I are soulmates.
I run away from my problems. I take the easy way out.
I am intimidated by the young men in my life who could spur me on most effectively in my relationship with Christ. I settle and then wonder why I am disappointed.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Life's Color
Today I began my first day of "Poetic Technique." So far, I love its unconventional classroom approach (we sit in a circle of desks) and my professor's emphasis on taking "field trips" to fuel expression. Here's what I wrote today.
Yellow is
The dying leaves on a poster in the hall,
Promising fall's arrival,
Recalling the bliss of cool, dry air.
The hardcover poetry book displayed prominently
in a yellow sea of classroom doors.
It is the sun that streams through the window and into my eyes
after reflecting off rain-drenched, collegiate brick.
The tattered folder that hurries past under arm,
mimicking caution tape and mud-worn tractors
the omens of beauty to come in the midst of chaos
It is mustard, unused this morning, at the hot dog stand.
It is the plaid sweater, unworn, in blistering humidity.
It persists in ugliness, it insists on purity.
It is hope.
Yellow is
The dying leaves on a poster in the hall,
Promising fall's arrival,
Recalling the bliss of cool, dry air.
The hardcover poetry book displayed prominently
in a yellow sea of classroom doors.
It is the sun that streams through the window and into my eyes
after reflecting off rain-drenched, collegiate brick.
The tattered folder that hurries past under arm,
mimicking caution tape and mud-worn tractors
the omens of beauty to come in the midst of chaos
It is mustard, unused this morning, at the hot dog stand.
It is the plaid sweater, unworn, in blistering humidity.
It persists in ugliness, it insists on purity.
It is hope.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
What a Life
As I write this, I sit in my posh, apartment-style living quarters in the ghetto of FSU. Two days in Tallahassee, it's already been a whirlwind of unexpected, sometimes startling moments:
My family and I had originally planned on leaving around 9 am Wednesday, but instead we headed out at 6:30 am with my sister and her friend in tow. It seems the hurricane has no respect for travel plans so we thought we'd get an early start. When I got to Rogers and unlocked the door to my room, my soon-to-be roommate promptly and bluntly informed me that there was no possible way I could live there since she had paid for a single room. After seeking aid at the front desk and confronting her problems, I decided (and thankfully the hall supervisor agreed) that I should transfer rooms to avoid my would-be roommate at all costs.
The room isn't new or even clean. But it has a small living/dining area, a kitchenette, bathroom, and large closet in the bedroom. It needs more work, but a little decorating and strenuous scrubbing may make it mildly charming.
I spoke with a man selling posters in the Union about his jail days (he only committed minor infractions, he assured me). I went to see a French Boys' Choir with a friend I randomly met this summer and who just happens to attend the church my favorite teacher, Dr. Shaftel, attends. I met a girl who is quite possibly in my Hebrew class this semester. I got locked out of my residence hall sometime after midnight last night and trekked around the entire building seeking an open door until a confused student let me in. I bought 13 books for my classes and walked cross-campus at least 3 times so far. And I inexplicably found it impossible to get internet in the room. After about an hour of trouble-shooting, a friend recommended I restart the computer.
Voila! Here I am now, enjoying the intrigue of the virtual world.
If my year is anything like the past two days, it's bound to be interesting.
My family and I had originally planned on leaving around 9 am Wednesday, but instead we headed out at 6:30 am with my sister and her friend in tow. It seems the hurricane has no respect for travel plans so we thought we'd get an early start. When I got to Rogers and unlocked the door to my room, my soon-to-be roommate promptly and bluntly informed me that there was no possible way I could live there since she had paid for a single room. After seeking aid at the front desk and confronting her problems, I decided (and thankfully the hall supervisor agreed) that I should transfer rooms to avoid my would-be roommate at all costs.
The room isn't new or even clean. But it has a small living/dining area, a kitchenette, bathroom, and large closet in the bedroom. It needs more work, but a little decorating and strenuous scrubbing may make it mildly charming.
I spoke with a man selling posters in the Union about his jail days (he only committed minor infractions, he assured me). I went to see a French Boys' Choir with a friend I randomly met this summer and who just happens to attend the church my favorite teacher, Dr. Shaftel, attends. I met a girl who is quite possibly in my Hebrew class this semester. I got locked out of my residence hall sometime after midnight last night and trekked around the entire building seeking an open door until a confused student let me in. I bought 13 books for my classes and walked cross-campus at least 3 times so far. And I inexplicably found it impossible to get internet in the room. After about an hour of trouble-shooting, a friend recommended I restart the computer.
Voila! Here I am now, enjoying the intrigue of the virtual world.
If my year is anything like the past two days, it's bound to be interesting.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Starting Over
I don't know if its just an aspect of my restless personality or a symptom of living a life of mediocrity, but every so often I feel the intense, desperate need to start over. Delete the cracker crumb paths through this forest of living and searching and expressing myself.
I get the urge to smash my computer to pieces, tear out journal entries, make a clean break. And I wish I could understand myself. But I just want to make a difference. I just want to know truth. I don't need to be brainwashed into a life of contentment, I just need to revel in the glory of the harsh truths of reality. I want to look into people's eyes and see their hearts. But I want to do this without getting myself entangled into messy relationships.
But that's not possible. Life may be simple in its most objective form. But people are not objective and cannot view life through a scope of objectivity and stoic reasoning. That's what makes this living thing worth it, but that's also what makes it so hard.
I am convinced, absolutely and passionately, that God has huge, life-changing things in mind for His church on this earth. It's not at all about me, it's about a global body. And maybe if I could come to terms with that, really understand that, I could really start to live. My efforts don't have to be glorious, I don't have to be altogether competent, because I am not all that matters.
I get the urge to smash my computer to pieces, tear out journal entries, make a clean break. And I wish I could understand myself. But I just want to make a difference. I just want to know truth. I don't need to be brainwashed into a life of contentment, I just need to revel in the glory of the harsh truths of reality. I want to look into people's eyes and see their hearts. But I want to do this without getting myself entangled into messy relationships.
But that's not possible. Life may be simple in its most objective form. But people are not objective and cannot view life through a scope of objectivity and stoic reasoning. That's what makes this living thing worth it, but that's also what makes it so hard.
I am convinced, absolutely and passionately, that God has huge, life-changing things in mind for His church on this earth. It's not at all about me, it's about a global body. And maybe if I could come to terms with that, really understand that, I could really start to live. My efforts don't have to be glorious, I don't have to be altogether competent, because I am not all that matters.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Music
Sometimes I think I could lead a life of perfect contentment as long as I had the chance to pound a few notes out on the piano and pretend to know how to play the guitar, all while singing my heart out, humming unwritten melodies, serenading my cat.
What is it about music that makes all seem magical? How does it yield such power over our hearts and minds? I am convinced that the performing arts are not here so much to entertain, but more to make sense of the abstract entanglement of moments that comprise living. Seeing pain in the form of a dance reveals the beauty in struggle. The soaring notes of a violin are the sounds of nature in its majesty. The constant strum of guitar strings is that rhythm of time we must all succumb to.
What is the connection between God and music? Certainly its a gift He's given us, a glimpse of the joy He provides. Even in Heaven, though, all creatures cry out in song, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty, who was, and is, and is to come." Is music a part of that heavenly kingdom on earth, here yet not quite tangible? Perfect, yet not fully recognized? I think that music is the song of our souls; it can be used to stir us to action, both positive and negative. Perhaps music on its own is neither good nor bad, but it is a powerful tool: to express, to persuade, to comfort, and to corrupt.
We must listen. Create. Understand that sway and appreciate its magic.
What is it about music that makes all seem magical? How does it yield such power over our hearts and minds? I am convinced that the performing arts are not here so much to entertain, but more to make sense of the abstract entanglement of moments that comprise living. Seeing pain in the form of a dance reveals the beauty in struggle. The soaring notes of a violin are the sounds of nature in its majesty. The constant strum of guitar strings is that rhythm of time we must all succumb to.
What is the connection between God and music? Certainly its a gift He's given us, a glimpse of the joy He provides. Even in Heaven, though, all creatures cry out in song, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty, who was, and is, and is to come." Is music a part of that heavenly kingdom on earth, here yet not quite tangible? Perfect, yet not fully recognized? I think that music is the song of our souls; it can be used to stir us to action, both positive and negative. Perhaps music on its own is neither good nor bad, but it is a powerful tool: to express, to persuade, to comfort, and to corrupt.
We must listen. Create. Understand that sway and appreciate its magic.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Mother Teresa is smart.
"Everything starts from prayer. Without asking God for love, we cannot possess love and still less are we able to give it to others. Just as people today are speaking so much about the poor but they do not know or talk to the poor, we too cannot talk so much about prayer and yet not know how to pray."
"In Minneapolis, a woman in a wheelchair, suffering continuous convulsions from cerebral palsy asked me what people like her could do for others. I told her: You can do the most. You can do more than any of us because your suffering is united with the suffering of Christ on the Cross and it brings strength to all of us. There is tremendous strength that is growing in the world through this continual sharing, praying together, suffering together and working together."
"There is much suffering in the world - physical, material, mental. The suffering of some can be blamed on the greed of others. The material and physical suffering is suffering from hunger, from homelessness, from all kinds of diseases. But the greatest suffering is being lonely, feeling unloved, having no one. I have come more and more to realize that it is being unwanted that is the worst disease that any human being can ever experience."
"When we have nothing to give, let us give that nothingness. Let us remain as empty as possible, so that God can fill us. Even God cannot fill what is already full. God won't force Himself on us. You are filling the world with the love God has given you."
God has provided us so much wisdom, if we'll only just take it to heart. I want to love because of God's love, and I want to serve Him by serving others, by disappearing.
"In Minneapolis, a woman in a wheelchair, suffering continuous convulsions from cerebral palsy asked me what people like her could do for others. I told her: You can do the most. You can do more than any of us because your suffering is united with the suffering of Christ on the Cross and it brings strength to all of us. There is tremendous strength that is growing in the world through this continual sharing, praying together, suffering together and working together."
"There is much suffering in the world - physical, material, mental. The suffering of some can be blamed on the greed of others. The material and physical suffering is suffering from hunger, from homelessness, from all kinds of diseases. But the greatest suffering is being lonely, feeling unloved, having no one. I have come more and more to realize that it is being unwanted that is the worst disease that any human being can ever experience."
"When we have nothing to give, let us give that nothingness. Let us remain as empty as possible, so that God can fill us. Even God cannot fill what is already full. God won't force Himself on us. You are filling the world with the love God has given you."
God has provided us so much wisdom, if we'll only just take it to heart. I want to love because of God's love, and I want to serve Him by serving others, by disappearing.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Everything's Changin'
This past week bears the marks of transition, the growing pains of change. A week without Tuesday Bible study. My last day of work. The last week before one of my best friends headed back to school. And a mini reunion that ended, as all reunions do, with separation and the dull ache of loneliness.
I feel as if I've finally settled back into existence and accepted my life in Jacksonville. I learned to love my coworkers at Blockbuster. I met new people that have become my friends. I've delved into Song of Solomon with the help of God and tremendous spiritual mentors, beautiful men and women of God. I've changed and learned and recovered. I've come to understand so much darkness, but also loveliness. I like where I am in so many ways that leaving it all behind indefinitely feels like a loss and, to some degree, a cop out. But I know (and anticipate) that there will be joys and laughter and pain in Tallahassee that will shape me further. Things that will shake me, stir me, revive me. And I look forward to a time to meet with those friends I've missed this summer.
At the beginning of the summer, God provided encouragement in the form of a verse in John:
Jesus answered, "But a time is coming, and has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me." (Jn 16:32)
College is a transitory period. Nowhere seems quite like home. We are scattered from community and companionship. And we will feel alone. We will yearn for those from which we are separated. But we are not alone. God is with us. God is WITH us. And, when all else fails, when everything's changing, we can know that companionship. We can praise Him in the sorrow, the boredom and confusion, for the tiniest of daily joys.
When we feel the coldness and shame of distance from God's enveloping love and from His awe-inspiring power, we must follow his sheep. We must aim for wisdom and friendship that exposes, rebukes, hopes, and supports.
Beloved: "Tell me, you whom I love, where you graze your flock and where you rest your sheep at midday. Why should I be like a veiled woman beside the flocks of your friends?"
Lover: "If you do not know, most beautiful of women, follow the tracks of the sheep and graze your young goats by the tents of the shepherds." - (Song of Solomon 1:7-8)
I feel as if I've finally settled back into existence and accepted my life in Jacksonville. I learned to love my coworkers at Blockbuster. I met new people that have become my friends. I've delved into Song of Solomon with the help of God and tremendous spiritual mentors, beautiful men and women of God. I've changed and learned and recovered. I've come to understand so much darkness, but also loveliness. I like where I am in so many ways that leaving it all behind indefinitely feels like a loss and, to some degree, a cop out. But I know (and anticipate) that there will be joys and laughter and pain in Tallahassee that will shape me further. Things that will shake me, stir me, revive me. And I look forward to a time to meet with those friends I've missed this summer.
At the beginning of the summer, God provided encouragement in the form of a verse in John:
Jesus answered, "But a time is coming, and has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me." (Jn 16:32)
College is a transitory period. Nowhere seems quite like home. We are scattered from community and companionship. And we will feel alone. We will yearn for those from which we are separated. But we are not alone. God is with us. God is WITH us. And, when all else fails, when everything's changing, we can know that companionship. We can praise Him in the sorrow, the boredom and confusion, for the tiniest of daily joys.
When we feel the coldness and shame of distance from God's enveloping love and from His awe-inspiring power, we must follow his sheep. We must aim for wisdom and friendship that exposes, rebukes, hopes, and supports.
Beloved: "Tell me, you whom I love, where you graze your flock and where you rest your sheep at midday. Why should I be like a veiled woman beside the flocks of your friends?"
Lover: "If you do not know, most beautiful of women, follow the tracks of the sheep and graze your young goats by the tents of the shepherds." - (Song of Solomon 1:7-8)
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wisdom from the Sisterhood
Due to my apparent inability to think independently or write anything profound these past few days, I decided to leave my dear readers with some wisdom from the The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants book:
"Maybe, she thought as she walked, Brian McBrian was onto something important. Maybe happiness didn't have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures. Wearing slippers and watching the Miss Universe contest. Eating a brownie and vanilla ice cream. Getting to level seven in Dragon Master and knowing there were twenty levels to go.
Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks-the traffic signal that said 'Walk' the second you got there-and the downticks-the itchy tag at the back of your collar-that happened to every person in the course of a day. Maybe everybody had the same alotted measure of happiness within each day.
Maybe it didn't matter if you were a world-famous heartthrob or a painful geek. Maybe it didn't matter if your friend was possibly dying.
Maybe you just got through it. Maybe that was all you could ask for." (Page 282)
"Maybe, she thought as she walked, Brian McBrian was onto something important. Maybe happiness didn't have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures. Wearing slippers and watching the Miss Universe contest. Eating a brownie and vanilla ice cream. Getting to level seven in Dragon Master and knowing there were twenty levels to go.
Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks-the traffic signal that said 'Walk' the second you got there-and the downticks-the itchy tag at the back of your collar-that happened to every person in the course of a day. Maybe everybody had the same alotted measure of happiness within each day.
Maybe it didn't matter if you were a world-famous heartthrob or a painful geek. Maybe it didn't matter if your friend was possibly dying.
Maybe you just got through it. Maybe that was all you could ask for." (Page 282)
Friday, August 1, 2008
Forgotten Memories
I just found something I'd written on November 16, 2006 about a previous journal entry. I literally said "Wow!" when I read it. It's always strange to look back on my thoughts, separated by this chasm of time:
Life. It changes you. Look back at 1-1-06. The girl who wrote that is hiding somewhere, I'm just not sure how to get her back. Am I supposed to seek that innocence? I think so. When the world hardens you - when you toughen up to avoid breaking down - something joyous gets pushed back and forgotten. That child-like naivete, the complete faith in Jesus, in his love intangible but so apparent. Am I wiser than I was on January 1, 2006? I hope so. Am I more aware of my role in this world? Hopefully. Bu am I living each day with the happiness of a child in my heart? I long for it. I asked for growth. In many ways, I have been stretched. But just because I am altered does not give me the excuse to scorn the pain and frustration I've undergone. I've learned to endure, when everything is collapsing, endure. This race has some huge mountains to cross, believe me. But my adrenaline's pumping, my heart is still beating, I am alive and living for Christ. I proclaim this for His glory!
Life. It changes you. Look back at 1-1-06. The girl who wrote that is hiding somewhere, I'm just not sure how to get her back. Am I supposed to seek that innocence? I think so. When the world hardens you - when you toughen up to avoid breaking down - something joyous gets pushed back and forgotten. That child-like naivete, the complete faith in Jesus, in his love intangible but so apparent. Am I wiser than I was on January 1, 2006? I hope so. Am I more aware of my role in this world? Hopefully. Bu am I living each day with the happiness of a child in my heart? I long for it. I asked for growth. In many ways, I have been stretched. But just because I am altered does not give me the excuse to scorn the pain and frustration I've undergone. I've learned to endure, when everything is collapsing, endure. This race has some huge mountains to cross, believe me. But my adrenaline's pumping, my heart is still beating, I am alive and living for Christ. I proclaim this for His glory!
Prayer
"I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe." - Ephesians 1:18-19
I pray that we all experience that. That we all pray that prayer.
I pray that we all experience that. That we all pray that prayer.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Creative Female Artists
I've recently become enamored with those female singers who manage to write and deliver music that is lyrically inspiring, witty, offbeat, and honest.
Ingrid Michaelson is my all time favorite artist since I first heard The Way I Am. I love the heartfelt honesty of her lyrics. She, more than any other artist, seems to put into words the depth of pain and joy that comes with heartbreak, whether of a romantic nature or more generally. My favorites are Overboard, Keep Breathing, and Die Alone, although I adore and appreciate everything I've heard so far.
Kimya Dawson's music is overflowing so thoroughly with quirks that some people find her annoying or unworthy of the notice she's received, especially after the success of Juno. But I love the way she tells stories in the most childish of words and the simplest of chord progressions. Because this simplicity stands in such contrast to her obvious grasp of the span of human experience and pain, her songs become profound, anthems to hope and moving on and appreciating the little things. I especially like I Like Giants.
I've only heard one song from Amber Rubarth so far. But You Will Love This Song is simply charming. Sweet, understated, and a bit juvenile, I can't help but smile when I hear it.
I'm surprised at myself for truly admiring those undiciplined, untrained, and altogether irregular female vocalists because of my own experience as a singer. But they help me realize that music and art are not about classes and pronunciations and correct posture (although these things certainly help), but about expressing what's going on in a style all my own. In a way I hope will reach others and teach them a little about my heart.
Ingrid Michaelson is my all time favorite artist since I first heard The Way I Am. I love the heartfelt honesty of her lyrics. She, more than any other artist, seems to put into words the depth of pain and joy that comes with heartbreak, whether of a romantic nature or more generally. My favorites are Overboard, Keep Breathing, and Die Alone, although I adore and appreciate everything I've heard so far.
Kimya Dawson's music is overflowing so thoroughly with quirks that some people find her annoying or unworthy of the notice she's received, especially after the success of Juno. But I love the way she tells stories in the most childish of words and the simplest of chord progressions. Because this simplicity stands in such contrast to her obvious grasp of the span of human experience and pain, her songs become profound, anthems to hope and moving on and appreciating the little things. I especially like I Like Giants.
I've only heard one song from Amber Rubarth so far. But You Will Love This Song is simply charming. Sweet, understated, and a bit juvenile, I can't help but smile when I hear it.
I'm surprised at myself for truly admiring those undiciplined, untrained, and altogether irregular female vocalists because of my own experience as a singer. But they help me realize that music and art are not about classes and pronunciations and correct posture (although these things certainly help), but about expressing what's going on in a style all my own. In a way I hope will reach others and teach them a little about my heart.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Switchfoot = Genius
I've been a fan of Switchfoot since the good ol' days of The Beautiful Letdown. I've been listening to Nothing is Sound in my car recently. And I am struck by the ever eloquent truth presented in their lyrics. Lonely Nation:
She turns like the ocean/She tells no emotion/She's been gunning down the fight/She's just reminiscing/Blood, sweat, and one thing's missing/She's been breaking up inside, inside
Singing without tongues/Screaming without lungs/I want more than my lonely nation/I want more than my lonely nation/Desperate we are young/Seperate we are one/I want more than my desperation/I Want more than my lonely nation
I love the following verse:
We are the target market/We set the corporate target/We are slaves of what we want/We're just not amused/And we're just used to bad news/We are slaves of what we want...
because I think it captures the cry of my generation. We've become burdened by materialistic enterprise and the longing for acceptance. We're surrounded by emptiness masquerading as the joys and comforts of life. We're corrupted by darkness masquerading as light. And we feel powerless to escape.
I work at Blockbuster and I see it every day. Grown adults throw the best temper tantrums. We've become desensitized to anything but fulfilling our desires, or rather, the desires advertising agencies have suggested that we pursue. I feel like we're standing on the edge of a great chasm. And if people don't reawaken to community and humility and respect soon, we're all going down. We are desperate underneath forced social etiquette and painted smiles.
Separate, we are one. We don't let people in. We hide behind texts, emails, blaring music, even blogs. But happiness is only real when shared. People need people.
So read 2 Corinthians 11. Read Ephesians. Watch Lars and the Real Girl. Listen to Switchfoot. And, after realizing the depth of God's extraordinary, unearthly love, have the courage to love others. Listen and let them in. Refuse to believe Satan when he masquerades as truth. Because the world does not know truth; the truth is in God's spirit. Read John, too.
She turns like the ocean/She tells no emotion/She's been gunning down the fight/She's just reminiscing/Blood, sweat, and one thing's missing/She's been breaking up inside, inside
Singing without tongues/Screaming without lungs/I want more than my lonely nation/I want more than my lonely nation/Desperate we are young/Seperate we are one/I want more than my desperation/I Want more than my lonely nation
I love the following verse:
We are the target market/We set the corporate target/We are slaves of what we want/We're just not amused/And we're just used to bad news/We are slaves of what we want...
because I think it captures the cry of my generation. We've become burdened by materialistic enterprise and the longing for acceptance. We're surrounded by emptiness masquerading as the joys and comforts of life. We're corrupted by darkness masquerading as light. And we feel powerless to escape.
I work at Blockbuster and I see it every day. Grown adults throw the best temper tantrums. We've become desensitized to anything but fulfilling our desires, or rather, the desires advertising agencies have suggested that we pursue. I feel like we're standing on the edge of a great chasm. And if people don't reawaken to community and humility and respect soon, we're all going down. We are desperate underneath forced social etiquette and painted smiles.
Separate, we are one. We don't let people in. We hide behind texts, emails, blaring music, even blogs. But happiness is only real when shared. People need people.
So read 2 Corinthians 11. Read Ephesians. Watch Lars and the Real Girl. Listen to Switchfoot. And, after realizing the depth of God's extraordinary, unearthly love, have the courage to love others. Listen and let them in. Refuse to believe Satan when he masquerades as truth. Because the world does not know truth; the truth is in God's spirit. Read John, too.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Joy and Promise
I am refreshed. I look forward to tomorrow and see the present with great quanitities of joy and promise. I have hope. I have faith.
I know a fraction of God's restorative, intense, selfless, uncalled for love. A love that opens me up to see how I love others.
Lord, let me see the depth of my sin and smile all the more by understanding how much farther your love expands.
"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge— that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." - Ephesians 3:17-19
I know a fraction of God's restorative, intense, selfless, uncalled for love. A love that opens me up to see how I love others.
Lord, let me see the depth of my sin and smile all the more by understanding how much farther your love expands.
"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge— that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." - Ephesians 3:17-19
Friday, July 18, 2008
Oh how he LOVES us
I was admittedly a little skeptical my first week of studying Song of Solomon from the persective of Christ as the lover and His people as the Beloved. The text is so intimate and metaphorical that I initially had a difficult time seeing God through it's scope and symbolism. Five verses into it now, and I am hooked.
We can't be selfish in our outlooks or in our faith. But I've been so focused on fulfilling a duty that I forgot to work on a relationship with the God I profess to follow. I need to know, in the depth of my heart, in the forefront of my mind, in the entirety of my spirit, that God loves me. That he loved me before I made mistakes, in full knowledge that I would commit treacherous acts in my heart and in my actions. And He loves me through them and after them. He LOVES. He loves me. And he loves you. And He'll go on doing so.
"Dark am I, yet lovely." It's about realizing the blackness of my heart, the imperfection of my humanity, and understanding that I am absolutely lovely still. And I have to live as one who believes in my loveliness, however flawed. To understand the love of God, to truly grasp it, is the key to loving others, it's the key to eternal life, to "know Christ."
It's been nearly three months since freshman year came to a close and finally I feel hope bubbling underneath my skin. I trust God. I trust Him because I KNOW he LOVES me.
"Wait for the Lord, be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." - Psalm 27:14
http://youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps
We can't be selfish in our outlooks or in our faith. But I've been so focused on fulfilling a duty that I forgot to work on a relationship with the God I profess to follow. I need to know, in the depth of my heart, in the forefront of my mind, in the entirety of my spirit, that God loves me. That he loved me before I made mistakes, in full knowledge that I would commit treacherous acts in my heart and in my actions. And He loves me through them and after them. He LOVES. He loves me. And he loves you. And He'll go on doing so.
"Dark am I, yet lovely." It's about realizing the blackness of my heart, the imperfection of my humanity, and understanding that I am absolutely lovely still. And I have to live as one who believes in my loveliness, however flawed. To understand the love of God, to truly grasp it, is the key to loving others, it's the key to eternal life, to "know Christ."
It's been nearly three months since freshman year came to a close and finally I feel hope bubbling underneath my skin. I trust God. I trust Him because I KNOW he LOVES me.
"Wait for the Lord, be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." - Psalm 27:14
http://youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Lars and the Real Girl
Lars and the Real Girl is one of the most unusually and unexpectedly beautiful films I have ever seen. It reveals the beauty and hope and sincerity in life's most seemingly desperate individuals. In helping those we find absurd or peculiar. In loving others unconditionally. In finding the humor in the desperation and disconnect life inevitably presents.
Lars is the type of person I feel for, the character I yearn to help. I want to help people. I want to see the tremendous ways in which people can become better, enjoy life, see hope, and establish meaningful relationships.
Lars is the type of person I feel for, the character I yearn to help. I want to help people. I want to see the tremendous ways in which people can become better, enjoy life, see hope, and establish meaningful relationships.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Motives
Lately, I've been reading a blog called The Search (the link is on my blog list) by this guy who's written for Relevant magazine.
I was particularly struck by his commentary on Christian Hipster culture. It's ridiculous that churches and individuals within the church feel that they must live up to some visual standard of "cool" to disguise the perceived un-hipness of Christianity in modern culture. I know this, I feel this, I scowl and shake my head. But where do my motives lie?
Because I want people to think I'm cool. I listen to obscure bands, blog, splatter paint, and read murder mysteries. I rely on my quirkiness to attract others to me. It's not that I choose my hobbies to suit others' tastes, because I truly enjoy the things I do. But at the same time, I market myself and my interests out of selfish, compliment-seeking motives.
Maybe it's the pervasive social networking culture. We've been so brainwashed into typing and retyping lists of our hobbies, interests, activities, and quirks that we think that these things define us. And that mindset has gone so far as to mar our understanding of Christianity. Subconsciously we think that Christ can't draw people to him on His own and that the fruits of the Spirit aren't enough. We've got to market ourselves. We've got to provide a hip facade or people won't like Christians. In reality though, it seems far more likely that the facade is becoming more important than the matter underneath.
A few months ago, I was passionate about starting a house church, singing songs to acoustic strums, living like a hippie. Because I thought this was spiritual awakening. But what I question now is whether I was just immersed in the concept of making my brand of Christianity cool. I do feel like the church, at least as it stands in my neck of the woods, is weak, hidebound in a pattern of awkward and ineffective traditions and convictions. But real change can't happen if it's done in an effort to be marketable. Like the blog says in it's conclusion, maybe Christianity has stood the test of time because it's not cool. Because it's authentic.
And maybe Christians draw people to them simply by being authentic themselves.
I was particularly struck by his commentary on Christian Hipster culture. It's ridiculous that churches and individuals within the church feel that they must live up to some visual standard of "cool" to disguise the perceived un-hipness of Christianity in modern culture. I know this, I feel this, I scowl and shake my head. But where do my motives lie?
Because I want people to think I'm cool. I listen to obscure bands, blog, splatter paint, and read murder mysteries. I rely on my quirkiness to attract others to me. It's not that I choose my hobbies to suit others' tastes, because I truly enjoy the things I do. But at the same time, I market myself and my interests out of selfish, compliment-seeking motives.
Maybe it's the pervasive social networking culture. We've been so brainwashed into typing and retyping lists of our hobbies, interests, activities, and quirks that we think that these things define us. And that mindset has gone so far as to mar our understanding of Christianity. Subconsciously we think that Christ can't draw people to him on His own and that the fruits of the Spirit aren't enough. We've got to market ourselves. We've got to provide a hip facade or people won't like Christians. In reality though, it seems far more likely that the facade is becoming more important than the matter underneath.
A few months ago, I was passionate about starting a house church, singing songs to acoustic strums, living like a hippie. Because I thought this was spiritual awakening. But what I question now is whether I was just immersed in the concept of making my brand of Christianity cool. I do feel like the church, at least as it stands in my neck of the woods, is weak, hidebound in a pattern of awkward and ineffective traditions and convictions. But real change can't happen if it's done in an effort to be marketable. Like the blog says in it's conclusion, maybe Christianity has stood the test of time because it's not cool. Because it's authentic.
And maybe Christians draw people to them simply by being authentic themselves.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Adventures
Goals.
1. Study abroad Summer '09
2. Go on a road trip around the country
3. Go camping in the Smoky Mts. Spring Break '09
4. Live in Germany
5. Visit Paris and small villages in France
6. Learn French, Hebrew, and German
7. Visit every major art museum
8. Go to Alaska
9. Swim with dolphins
10. See Ingrid Michaelson, Jon McLaughlin, and Switchfoot live
11. Volunteer at a soup kitchen
12. Donate to a charity
13. Never borrow money from the bank
14. Sing at a wedding
15. Love people
16. Be in a local theatrical production
17. Learn an instrument well
18. Start a church
19. Write a book
20. Be a part of a selfless relationship
1. Study abroad Summer '09
2. Go on a road trip around the country
3. Go camping in the Smoky Mts. Spring Break '09
4. Live in Germany
5. Visit Paris and small villages in France
6. Learn French, Hebrew, and German
7. Visit every major art museum
8. Go to Alaska
9. Swim with dolphins
10. See Ingrid Michaelson, Jon McLaughlin, and Switchfoot live
11. Volunteer at a soup kitchen
12. Donate to a charity
13. Never borrow money from the bank
14. Sing at a wedding
15. Love people
16. Be in a local theatrical production
17. Learn an instrument well
18. Start a church
19. Write a book
20. Be a part of a selfless relationship
Into the Wilderness of Today
"They were sitting/They were sitting on the strawberry swing/Every moment was so precious ... People moving all the time/Inside a perfectly straight line/Don't you wanna curve away?/When it's such/It's such a perfect day/It's such a perfect day." (Coldplay)
"To the desert go prophets and hermits; through deserts go pilgrims and exiles. Here the leaders of the great religions have sought the therapeutic and spiritual values of retreat, not to escape but to find reality." (Paul Shepherd, Man in the Landscape)
"No man ever followed his genius till it misled him. Though the result were bodily weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that the consequences were to be regretted, for these were a life in conformity to higher principles. If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a frangrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, is more starry, more immortal, - that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have cause momentarily to bless yourself. The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are the highest reality. ... The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of the morning and evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched." (Henry David Thoreau, Walden, or Life in the Woods)
"To the desert go prophets and hermits; through deserts go pilgrims and exiles. Here the leaders of the great religions have sought the therapeutic and spiritual values of retreat, not to escape but to find reality." (Paul Shepherd, Man in the Landscape)
"No man ever followed his genius till it misled him. Though the result were bodily weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that the consequences were to be regretted, for these were a life in conformity to higher principles. If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a frangrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, is more starry, more immortal, - that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have cause momentarily to bless yourself. The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are the highest reality. ... The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of the morning and evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched." (Henry David Thoreau, Walden, or Life in the Woods)
Monday, July 7, 2008
Modern Nature
Oh, what a world this life would be/Forget all your technicolour dreams/Forget modern nature/This is how it´s meant to be. (Modern Nature, Sondre Lerche)
Just finished reading The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. What hope and simple eloquence Jean-Dominique Bauby managed to grace his readers with in spite of locked-in syndrome, a condition that essentially trapped his healthy brain in a paralyzed, decaying body. He wrote by painstakingly blinking his left eye, spelling out words with a special alphabet.
There is such joy in simplicity, in valuing the most simple and mundane events. Driving down a road. Coincidences. A smile or laughter among friends and strangers alike. Fragments of the thread of life that connect humanity in all its frivolous drama. Things that encourage us to fly by grounding us in the poetry of reality.
Yesterday at church I went to the alter. But words failed me, no understandable ideas were forming. Only a yearning. And after searching through Psalms for the phrase "One thing I ask," I found Psalm 27 this morning:
One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life...
Dwell. I desire ONE thing alone, to dwell with God. Not work, speak, sing, praise, act, stress, agonize, laugh, or weep. Dwell. That word connotes contentment, peace, an inner joy not found in any frantic action or confused pondering. My desire is to do for God by dwelling with Him. That closeness. If that is the yearning of the deepest part of myself, it is no wonder I am discontent apart from Him.
I don't understand. I don't get it. But I must dwell. Live life. Cherish every tear, whether born of laughter or of grief. Because I dwell with Him, I see His beauty radiate in the literary genre that is the human experience.
Just finished reading The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. What hope and simple eloquence Jean-Dominique Bauby managed to grace his readers with in spite of locked-in syndrome, a condition that essentially trapped his healthy brain in a paralyzed, decaying body. He wrote by painstakingly blinking his left eye, spelling out words with a special alphabet.
There is such joy in simplicity, in valuing the most simple and mundane events. Driving down a road. Coincidences. A smile or laughter among friends and strangers alike. Fragments of the thread of life that connect humanity in all its frivolous drama. Things that encourage us to fly by grounding us in the poetry of reality.
Yesterday at church I went to the alter. But words failed me, no understandable ideas were forming. Only a yearning. And after searching through Psalms for the phrase "One thing I ask," I found Psalm 27 this morning:
One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life...
Dwell. I desire ONE thing alone, to dwell with God. Not work, speak, sing, praise, act, stress, agonize, laugh, or weep. Dwell. That word connotes contentment, peace, an inner joy not found in any frantic action or confused pondering. My desire is to do for God by dwelling with Him. That closeness. If that is the yearning of the deepest part of myself, it is no wonder I am discontent apart from Him.
I don't understand. I don't get it. But I must dwell. Live life. Cherish every tear, whether born of laughter or of grief. Because I dwell with Him, I see His beauty radiate in the literary genre that is the human experience.
Oh the glory of friendship
There is no feeling that matches that of being the object of a giant group hug you've earned for just for being alive, glasses pressing against your face, a tangle of arms sprawled in all directions.
At the New Way concert last night, I fully expected to burst into tears, to miss the singing, the worship experience, even the work. But I discovered, to my surprise, that I missed nothing of the framework of New Way. I just missed the people. I adore them, respect them, and want so much to encourage them. The capacity we have to care for one another after less than three weeks of day to day contact and over a span of an entire year is profound. God blessed me immensely by leading me to such intelligent, funny, Christ-like, and immensely talented individuals.
So what I yearn for is not New Way so much as the ability to spend time with the 11 remaining members of New Way 2007.
At the New Way concert last night, I fully expected to burst into tears, to miss the singing, the worship experience, even the work. But I discovered, to my surprise, that I missed nothing of the framework of New Way. I just missed the people. I adore them, respect them, and want so much to encourage them. The capacity we have to care for one another after less than three weeks of day to day contact and over a span of an entire year is profound. God blessed me immensely by leading me to such intelligent, funny, Christ-like, and immensely talented individuals.
So what I yearn for is not New Way so much as the ability to spend time with the 11 remaining members of New Way 2007.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
MOCA
Redcoat by Alex Katz"Study the anatomy of the subway lines flowing under the city's skin" - John Bailley
My sister is dead set on visiting every art museum in Florida by the end of the summer. That goal gives me the motivation to admire all sorts of visual art with her. Today we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Jax. Good stuff. I'd add more pieces if pictures were available online. I love the way that art inspires artistic endeavors. We might do a photoshoot at an old Catholic church tomorrow.
Get out there and start exploring.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Book Reviews
Authors and literature that have shaped my understanding and my outlook:
Agatha Christie: Her murder mysteries are entertaining, but her autobiography is honest, amusing, and profound.
I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
C. S. Lewis: A brilliant man. It is evident that every phrase within his books and every word of advice comes from personal struggle and experience. He saw the world: its beauty, its pain, its compromise, and the subtle humor in living.
Paul: He's smart, passionate, and genuinely in love with Jesus Christ. I have a feeling he and C. S. Lewis would have had some interesting discussions were they not hindered by the timeline.
The Book of John: Less narrative, more spiritual. Its metaphors present such a wealth of understanding. God uses them to make profound connections. He teaches me again and again.
And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and will be in you. (14:16-17)
Jane Eyre: contemplating the balance of passion verses reason never grows old. Eyre is an extremely well-developed character and the novel values internal conflict far more than plot development, even though it spans a lifetime.
The Picture of Dorian Gray: presents a moral and ethical discussion in the most subtle, creative of ways. Every time I read it, I am left speechless, deep in thought.
A Tale of Two Cities: The best demonstration of selfless love ever presented in literary format.
It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.
The Awakening: What is empowerment? When we stand at odds with society, how can we overcome? Is suicide evidence of true enlightenment or of cowardice?
The Poisonwood Bible: I questioned the sincerity of my faith and the motives of my heart. Corruption of the heart is sometimes more pronounced within a facade of Christianity.
Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I’ve only found sorrow.
Watership Down: I would have never expected a book about the lives of rabbits to pull at my heart strings or immerse me so completely in the story.
My Sister's Keeper: In an effort to save the life of their ailing child, a family genetically configures their next daughter to provide necessary transfusions. But at what cost? And could they ever truly love their youngest child as much as the one they'd created her to save? Intriguing ethical conundrum.
Atonement: You know what they say about assumptions. Briony's life long battle for relief from the guilt that has consumed her and destroyed others is moving and thought-provoking.
Agatha Christie: Her murder mysteries are entertaining, but her autobiography is honest, amusing, and profound.
I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
C. S. Lewis: A brilliant man. It is evident that every phrase within his books and every word of advice comes from personal struggle and experience. He saw the world: its beauty, its pain, its compromise, and the subtle humor in living.
Paul: He's smart, passionate, and genuinely in love with Jesus Christ. I have a feeling he and C. S. Lewis would have had some interesting discussions were they not hindered by the timeline.
The Book of John: Less narrative, more spiritual. Its metaphors present such a wealth of understanding. God uses them to make profound connections. He teaches me again and again.
And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and will be in you. (14:16-17)
Jane Eyre: contemplating the balance of passion verses reason never grows old. Eyre is an extremely well-developed character and the novel values internal conflict far more than plot development, even though it spans a lifetime.
The Picture of Dorian Gray: presents a moral and ethical discussion in the most subtle, creative of ways. Every time I read it, I am left speechless, deep in thought.
A Tale of Two Cities: The best demonstration of selfless love ever presented in literary format.
It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.
The Awakening: What is empowerment? When we stand at odds with society, how can we overcome? Is suicide evidence of true enlightenment or of cowardice?
The Poisonwood Bible: I questioned the sincerity of my faith and the motives of my heart. Corruption of the heart is sometimes more pronounced within a facade of Christianity.
Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I’ve only found sorrow.
Watership Down: I would have never expected a book about the lives of rabbits to pull at my heart strings or immerse me so completely in the story.
My Sister's Keeper: In an effort to save the life of their ailing child, a family genetically configures their next daughter to provide necessary transfusions. But at what cost? And could they ever truly love their youngest child as much as the one they'd created her to save? Intriguing ethical conundrum.
Atonement: You know what they say about assumptions. Briony's life long battle for relief from the guilt that has consumed her and destroyed others is moving and thought-provoking.
Friday, June 27, 2008
I'm screwed up.
What provides objective value quickly becomes a means to seek acceptance. The fruit of pride is sin, I'm convinced. I want to write, to teach, to reach others. But I've grown so accustomed to hiding behind my supposed verbal eloquence, crafting sentences to portray a watered-down version of my struggles. Making myself strong simply by willing myself to believe that I am. But I'm weak, terribly weak. Flawed, broken, incapable of blunt, raw, honesty with myself or with others. When I feel weak, I lean on superficial talents, creating a diversion that allows me to hastily repair the fortress of distrust I keep around my heart for protection. But at what cost to my quality of life, to my quality of faith in a dependable God? I long to love and be loved: to live selflessly and peacefully. To break is to admit my weakness. But, by persisting in weakness and brokenness, maybe I can find that loving selflessly is the most rewarding experience we undergo as human beings and the means by which God is most glorified.
What provides objective value quickly becomes a means to seek acceptance. The fruit of pride is sin, I'm convinced. I want to write, to teach, to reach others. But I've grown so accustomed to hiding behind my supposed verbal eloquence, crafting sentences to portray a watered-down version of my struggles. Making myself strong simply by willing myself to believe that I am. But I'm weak, terribly weak. Flawed, broken, incapable of blunt, raw, honesty with myself or with others. When I feel weak, I lean on superficial talents, creating a diversion that allows me to hastily repair the fortress of distrust I keep around my heart for protection. But at what cost to my quality of life, to my quality of faith in a dependable God? I long to love and be loved: to live selflessly and peacefully. To break is to admit my weakness. But, by persisting in weakness and brokenness, maybe I can find that loving selflessly is the most rewarding experience we undergo as human beings and the means by which God is most glorified.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Get up and Go!
Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip "Get up and go toward the south to the road that leads to Gaza." (This is a wilderness road.) So he got up and went. (Acts 8:26-27)
"Who are you Lord?" The reply came, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do....Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. (Acts 9:6-8)
My beloved speaks and says to me "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.
The Lord is speaking. It's time to get up and go. For a month and half at least, I have agonized, mourned, and pitied myself. My relationship with Christ had grown stagnant because I had pushed Him away. But He is calling me to rise up, to take action. He's calling me to the wilderness of an unknown future and I must take initiative. When I falter, I have brothers and sisters who will lead me by the hand. The winter is past. The flowers are blooming. And I am called to move, to get up and go, to follow Him. There's a path through this wilderness. And I have companions to guide me. Now, if I only knew where I'm supposed to go.
"Who are you Lord?" The reply came, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do....Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. (Acts 9:6-8)
My beloved speaks and says to me "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.
The Lord is speaking. It's time to get up and go. For a month and half at least, I have agonized, mourned, and pitied myself. My relationship with Christ had grown stagnant because I had pushed Him away. But He is calling me to rise up, to take action. He's calling me to the wilderness of an unknown future and I must take initiative. When I falter, I have brothers and sisters who will lead me by the hand. The winter is past. The flowers are blooming. And I am called to move, to get up and go, to follow Him. There's a path through this wilderness. And I have companions to guide me. Now, if I only knew where I'm supposed to go.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Intricacies
Why life is always worth living.
Seeing the full moon peak through residual rain clouds as "The Music of the Night" begins to play on the radio.
Waiting for a rabbit to hop across the street.
Hearing birds sing in the middle of the night.
Sharing a smile with someone, as if you hold a secret between yourselves.
Knowing that the bright, immobile object in the sky isn't just a star, but a planet.
Thinking about aliens and fairies, and letting yourself believe they exist.
Praying outdoors, out loud, afraid of danger, but alive with joy.
Seeing the full moon peak through residual rain clouds as "The Music of the Night" begins to play on the radio.
Waiting for a rabbit to hop across the street.
Hearing birds sing in the middle of the night.
Sharing a smile with someone, as if you hold a secret between yourselves.
Knowing that the bright, immobile object in the sky isn't just a star, but a planet.
Thinking about aliens and fairies, and letting yourself believe they exist.
Praying outdoors, out loud, afraid of danger, but alive with joy.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The Remnant
Here's to putting what few brain cells we have to better use.
Blame it on the state of education, on pop culture, drugs, technology, rock & roll. Today it seems almost taboo to bring up a topic that challenges the status quo, that forces us to think deeply. I am so frustrated with the mindlessness of modern society and the modern church. Why are we trying so desperately to convince ourselves that mediocrity, timidity, and stoicism are virtues? We avoid our problems by convincing ourselves we don't have them. We settle for conversations about clothes and we gossip about celebrity scandals instead of letting the intricate beauty and pain and desperation of living in its rawest, sincerest state affect us. We're afraid to state our opinions for fear of social scorn. And news travels fast because the key to socialization has evolved to almost universal connectivity. We don't communicate face to face; the acceptance of this social degradation gives us yet another excuse to avoid actually living.
To understand the purpose of humanity, interact with humans. Look at them and you'll see that not far beneath the surface, they long to be set free. We want to live beyond technology addictions and social profiles. Above political correctness. We want to be challenged. We want a chance to respond. We want to rise out of societal confines, take a stand for a belief we've confidently chosen to possess, and feel deeply, emotionally, and publicly, even if it puts our pride on the line.
But we're stuck in sinking sand and too many of us fear persecution if we admit to ourselves that there is a way out. Maybe if we could stop living for ourselves for once, we'd be humbled, able to work as a team, able to rise out of the pit. Maybe we'd start to make a difference.
We've got to think, and think deeply. We have to start thinking for ourselves by thinking in community. We fear opposition. But no one wins a tournament by refusing to participate.
Blame it on the state of education, on pop culture, drugs, technology, rock & roll. Today it seems almost taboo to bring up a topic that challenges the status quo, that forces us to think deeply. I am so frustrated with the mindlessness of modern society and the modern church. Why are we trying so desperately to convince ourselves that mediocrity, timidity, and stoicism are virtues? We avoid our problems by convincing ourselves we don't have them. We settle for conversations about clothes and we gossip about celebrity scandals instead of letting the intricate beauty and pain and desperation of living in its rawest, sincerest state affect us. We're afraid to state our opinions for fear of social scorn. And news travels fast because the key to socialization has evolved to almost universal connectivity. We don't communicate face to face; the acceptance of this social degradation gives us yet another excuse to avoid actually living.
To understand the purpose of humanity, interact with humans. Look at them and you'll see that not far beneath the surface, they long to be set free. We want to live beyond technology addictions and social profiles. Above political correctness. We want to be challenged. We want a chance to respond. We want to rise out of societal confines, take a stand for a belief we've confidently chosen to possess, and feel deeply, emotionally, and publicly, even if it puts our pride on the line.
But we're stuck in sinking sand and too many of us fear persecution if we admit to ourselves that there is a way out. Maybe if we could stop living for ourselves for once, we'd be humbled, able to work as a team, able to rise out of the pit. Maybe we'd start to make a difference.
We've got to think, and think deeply. We have to start thinking for ourselves by thinking in community. We fear opposition. But no one wins a tournament by refusing to participate.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Real life isn't scripted. Sure, it's obvious. But it's a phrase that just strolled through my head as I watched Gilmore Girls, a show I adore for it's wit, quick chatter, and pop culture references. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I've always wished I could bring even a part of the spunk displayed in Lorelai Gilmore's conversations to my own.
But nothing beats spur-of-the-moment, spontaneous conversation with a willing conversationalist. The situational humor, startling realizations, eye-opening stories. Inside jokes, glances, teasing. Realizing after hours of talking that you adore the person or people you've shared so much of your life experience with.
I value this more than I know. But, out of American dream complex it seems, I've fallen prey to wanting to be more, say more, know more.
Today I want to talk to people, establish dialogue worthy of cherishing. I may not be Lorelai Gilmore, but as a human, I have a gift for communication.
But nothing beats spur-of-the-moment, spontaneous conversation with a willing conversationalist. The situational humor, startling realizations, eye-opening stories. Inside jokes, glances, teasing. Realizing after hours of talking that you adore the person or people you've shared so much of your life experience with.
I value this more than I know. But, out of American dream complex it seems, I've fallen prey to wanting to be more, say more, know more.
Today I want to talk to people, establish dialogue worthy of cherishing. I may not be Lorelai Gilmore, but as a human, I have a gift for communication.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
"But what do we mean, what should we mean, by saved? Does it not also include freedom and power here and now, to live a life so transformed that others glimpse in it the possibility of their own transformation? Please, let us always, in the name of the God who saves us, mean this by the gospel as well." (Christianity Today)
There seem to be two schools of thought, two main lessons being emphasized in the modern American church: that of personal advancement and that of peace in the afterlife. The pastor who speaks the former is as dynamic as a traveling inspirational speaker; find God and you will be wealthy, healthy, and wise. Find God and you will be happy on earth. The pastor who emphasizes the latter ignores the present altogether. Instead, his or her focus is on saving as many people as possible from eternal condemnation. Both perspectives leave what should be the healthy body of Christ in a state of mere congregation, perpetually weak and unfulfilled.
Jesus Christ himself emphasizes in John 4 that He is all that satisfies. He is "living water, welling up to eternal life." Notice that there are two points being made in this phrase. His living water absolutely, fully, and consistently fulfills the yearnings of our hearts. And it leads to eternal life. There is no guarantee of material happiness; good deeds and charity don't bring monetary gain. And those who expect it have not grasped the point of following Christ. Likewise, achieving eternal life does not bring an existence anything like living if we've forgotten that eternal life has begun for His disciples already.
The key is in the phrasing: this water that quenches our thirst is overflowing, "welling up." If we have accepted it, our lives are pouring out joy and forgiveness. God's "spirit of truth" is making itself known to all whom this living water touches. One sip and the water overflows into an ocean that reflects Christ, that covers everyone.
C. S. Lewis describes our hearts, purified in Christ, as mirrors that reflect Him outward. But what truly lies within us is more of a spring, completely pure and wholly refreshing. A spring that never runs dry.
How have we gone on in complacency for so long? Christianity, the religion, the mindset, the practice, the relationship, has nothing to do with pursuing selfish dreams either now or in an uncertain future. The writer of Ecclesiastes understood the purpose of life perhaps more than most modern intellectuals. Materialistic living is "utterly meaningless" and even the animals go to their graves. Above all, he exhorts, "Fear God, and keep His commandments; for that is the whole duty of everyone."
We're called to do God's work, to "believe in the One He has sent" (John 6:29). Belief brings water so plentiful that we must share. Doing God's work is no longer an obligation; it is freedom, the ripples resulting from a life devoted to following Christ.
There seem to be two schools of thought, two main lessons being emphasized in the modern American church: that of personal advancement and that of peace in the afterlife. The pastor who speaks the former is as dynamic as a traveling inspirational speaker; find God and you will be wealthy, healthy, and wise. Find God and you will be happy on earth. The pastor who emphasizes the latter ignores the present altogether. Instead, his or her focus is on saving as many people as possible from eternal condemnation. Both perspectives leave what should be the healthy body of Christ in a state of mere congregation, perpetually weak and unfulfilled.
Jesus Christ himself emphasizes in John 4 that He is all that satisfies. He is "living water, welling up to eternal life." Notice that there are two points being made in this phrase. His living water absolutely, fully, and consistently fulfills the yearnings of our hearts. And it leads to eternal life. There is no guarantee of material happiness; good deeds and charity don't bring monetary gain. And those who expect it have not grasped the point of following Christ. Likewise, achieving eternal life does not bring an existence anything like living if we've forgotten that eternal life has begun for His disciples already.
The key is in the phrasing: this water that quenches our thirst is overflowing, "welling up." If we have accepted it, our lives are pouring out joy and forgiveness. God's "spirit of truth" is making itself known to all whom this living water touches. One sip and the water overflows into an ocean that reflects Christ, that covers everyone.
C. S. Lewis describes our hearts, purified in Christ, as mirrors that reflect Him outward. But what truly lies within us is more of a spring, completely pure and wholly refreshing. A spring that never runs dry.
How have we gone on in complacency for so long? Christianity, the religion, the mindset, the practice, the relationship, has nothing to do with pursuing selfish dreams either now or in an uncertain future. The writer of Ecclesiastes understood the purpose of life perhaps more than most modern intellectuals. Materialistic living is "utterly meaningless" and even the animals go to their graves. Above all, he exhorts, "Fear God, and keep His commandments; for that is the whole duty of everyone."
We're called to do God's work, to "believe in the One He has sent" (John 6:29). Belief brings water so plentiful that we must share. Doing God's work is no longer an obligation; it is freedom, the ripples resulting from a life devoted to following Christ.
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