so I never listen during world civilizations two. the teacher drones on and on and on and makes history (something extremely fascinating) seem as exciting as watching a lightbulb flicker. you think something might happen-that the lightbulb might burst or settle down or something-but nothing ever does. and it's awful.
so usually...
I just think onto paper. it's not always good and put together. but yeah I thought I'd share.
this was written yesterday:
there's a lot to be said about people who make art. I think they are generally thought of as do-nothings and cop-outs. the type of people who have too many feelings and too much time on their hands. I guess this is somewhat true.
however, artists are a crucial part of society.
artists give other people something visual to connect with the quiet whispers of their heart and mind. a lawyer or a doctor or any other person that actually "does something" for the world can look at a piece of art and understand life more.
an artist becomes a cop-out when they stop trying to say anything. they become a do-nothing when they don't care and want to make art for art's sake.
lost in an uncharted sea.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
one thought.
time is not and can never be a crutch.
plan for the future-but act in the present.
"waiting on the world to change" is incredible nonsense.
that's all.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
eight (written yesterday)
this day marks nothing incredibly significant-a child was born.
me.
just like everyday-I mean lots of and lots of children are born all the time.
I'm 19 and feeling my age
-for all at once I am much too old and much too young. I still cling to my toys and games while I'm constantly told to let go of them.
oh, there was a parade for me today.
it came in many waves and stages.
the grand marshall of the parade-the glorious sun-marched in with the soft music of morning. the parade began with quiet breathing and slow stretching-the forcing of my eyelids to open and my muscles to awake. the music grew louder and the sun marched bolder.
a new display entered my parade-containing coffee cups and filtered window light and a pretty girl and some good books and the Good Book.
the wind came next-tossing everyone's hair and peeking up all the nice girl's skirts. the wind blew in happy and whimsy and the celebratory music of tambourines and electric guitars and clapping hands and choirs singing nonsense like "lala" and "da-dee-da" into my day.
with floats and confetti made of sun speckles and old mulch, the parade continued on.
the finale of the parade was loud and boisterous with clashing thunder and rain falling in big droplets. it faded away and all that was left was a soft wind, a clear night, and the hushed footsteps of a long-haired girl joining mine on the pavement.
at the close of the day-for it was just another day: the clock ticked on, you and I inhaled and exhaled-the parade marched on.
down the street to another kid that was born. another adult that's confused. another young person with issues. another girl who feels giddy. another boy who wants to be a man. another birthday.
but that's all good and true and you and I must keep a brave heart.
because, after all,
there was a parade.
me.
just like everyday-I mean lots of and lots of children are born all the time.
I'm 19 and feeling my age
-for all at once I am much too old and much too young. I still cling to my toys and games while I'm constantly told to let go of them.
oh, there was a parade for me today.
it came in many waves and stages.
the grand marshall of the parade-the glorious sun-marched in with the soft music of morning. the parade began with quiet breathing and slow stretching-the forcing of my eyelids to open and my muscles to awake. the music grew louder and the sun marched bolder.
a new display entered my parade-containing coffee cups and filtered window light and a pretty girl and some good books and the Good Book.
the wind came next-tossing everyone's hair and peeking up all the nice girl's skirts. the wind blew in happy and whimsy and the celebratory music of tambourines and electric guitars and clapping hands and choirs singing nonsense like "lala" and "da-dee-da" into my day.
with floats and confetti made of sun speckles and old mulch, the parade continued on.
the finale of the parade was loud and boisterous with clashing thunder and rain falling in big droplets. it faded away and all that was left was a soft wind, a clear night, and the hushed footsteps of a long-haired girl joining mine on the pavement.
at the close of the day-for it was just another day: the clock ticked on, you and I inhaled and exhaled-the parade marched on.
down the street to another kid that was born. another adult that's confused. another young person with issues. another girl who feels giddy. another boy who wants to be a man. another birthday.
but that's all good and true and you and I must keep a brave heart.
because, after all,
there was a parade.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
seven/journal entry
February 11th 2012
we are empty vessels that are continually being filled from an endless fountain.
the fountain is not one of clear, cool water.
the fountain is not one of sweet, golden honey.
it is one of thick, strong blood, flowing from Emmanuel’s veins.
we are being filled so that one day, we will not be lonely anymore.
we are lonely because the Creator of the universe turned His back on us and said “You have become dark and cannot face me anymore-for I am as bright as light can be.” we are lonely because a man who was also God served us to the very end. we are lonely because we cannot save ourselves.
because we cannot be known fully.
because we cannot know fully.
when we acknowledge Jesus as King, the blood transfusion begins. our dark, cold, blood of death is slowly and painfully bled out of us. His bright, warm, blood of life is slowly and painfully poured into us.
we slowly and painfully become more and more like Him.
slowly and painfully.
we cry out for our loneliness to end.
we want to know.
to be known.
to love.
to be loved.
the truth is that we cannot feel those things until we are full of His blood.
full to the top.
the last drop of our blood will fall out us the day that the last drop of His blood is poured into us.
the day we breath our last is when we will be so full of Him that the Father will turn to us and acknowledge us as light again. then real life begins.
but where does that leave us now as we wait to be filled? we cannot simply wait. we have to act-even if that means making mistakes.
we are empty vessels that are continually being filled from an endless fountain.
the fountain is not one of clear, cool water.
the fountain is not one of sweet, golden honey.
it is one of thick, strong blood, flowing from Emmanuel’s veins.
we are being filled so that one day, we will not be lonely anymore.
we are lonely because the Creator of the universe turned His back on us and said “You have become dark and cannot face me anymore-for I am as bright as light can be.” we are lonely because a man who was also God served us to the very end. we are lonely because we cannot save ourselves.
because we cannot be known fully.
because we cannot know fully.
when we acknowledge Jesus as King, the blood transfusion begins. our dark, cold, blood of death is slowly and painfully bled out of us. His bright, warm, blood of life is slowly and painfully poured into us.
we slowly and painfully become more and more like Him.
slowly and painfully.
we cry out for our loneliness to end.
we want to know.
to be known.
to love.
to be loved.
the truth is that we cannot feel those things until we are full of His blood.
full to the top.
the last drop of our blood will fall out us the day that the last drop of His blood is poured into us.
the day we breath our last is when we will be so full of Him that the Father will turn to us and acknowledge us as light again. then real life begins.
but where does that leave us now as we wait to be filled? we cannot simply wait. we have to act-even if that means making mistakes.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
a tree grows through it.
As I'm sitting here, eating a whole giant carrot,(it's huge, trust me) I can't help but think about the fact that in two weeks I'll turn nineteen.
Nineteen is pretty much a no-big-deal year-I understand that fully.
However, the other day my friend and I were talking and he said something about not thinking the same at all as last year-even last semester.
As I consume this monstrous carrot (so delicious), I can say, without a doubt, my thinking has made almost a 180 degree turn since last year.
My eighteenth year has been full of huge "AHA!" moments that have grown me closer to my God (and consequently closer to who I need to be). I have felt the overwhelming presence of God's love. I have felt the thrill of leading someone to Christ. I have been apart of a beautiful Christian community. I have realized my neediness for Christ. I have seen the ugly, disgusting truth about my own heart. I have felt the freedom of forgiveness. I have been blinded by the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death.
I have been mad at God. I have made decisions about my future. I have tasted the calm waters and walked about the green pastures.
all of these wonderful, awful, hard, beautiful, painful, and freeing things came from a Father that loves me.
realizing that this night, with my (now half-devoured) carrot, is the best birthday present ever.
I cannot wait to see where God takes me this year.
I know it will be good.
Climbing up walls with a tree growing through it is so worth the risk and bloodshed.
Coffee three times a day is worth the insomnia.
Headaches are so worth the late-night reading.
And today is so worth the wait of each yesterday.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
six
the note on my palm simply reads "go."
to the mountains I am called to live among the trees.
I'll never be yours, that's something you should know.
the look upon your face betrays your disbelief.
betrays your disbelief.
my dear, I cannot love another.
my friend, I can't keep loving you.
I'm left with my dark thoughts and pocket watch.
I watch the days pass and quietly grow old.
you're left with your strange ideas and cold young blood.
you still walk the streets with your head hung low.
your head hung low.
my dear, I cannot love another.
my friend, I can't keep loving you.
my dear, I'm bound to this sky and this mountain.
my heart is tied with an earthen string.
so you'd do your best to just move on.
you'd do your best to stop loving me.
please stop loving me.
to the mountains I am called to live among the trees.
I'll never be yours, that's something you should know.
the look upon your face betrays your disbelief.
betrays your disbelief.
my dear, I cannot love another.
my friend, I can't keep loving you.
I'm left with my dark thoughts and pocket watch.
I watch the days pass and quietly grow old.
you're left with your strange ideas and cold young blood.
you still walk the streets with your head hung low.
your head hung low.
my dear, I cannot love another.
my friend, I can't keep loving you.
my dear, I'm bound to this sky and this mountain.
my heart is tied with an earthen string.
so you'd do your best to just move on.
you'd do your best to stop loving me.
please stop loving me.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
breathe in. breathe out.
Something I've been thinking about a lot lately is the importance of breath in life.
duh. right?
Yeah, of course breathing is important, but the notion that breath is one of the "givers of life" in our bodies is astounding to me.
During Yoga (which I'm becoming really fond of) our teacher was talking about the importance of breathing in stretching. A steady breath causes a person to be able to relax and stretch up to four times more than a person with a sporadic breathing pattern.
Then while in choir, the teacher was stressing the point of good breathing habits. He spoke of the weak sound of a bad breather in contrast to the full, beautiful sound of a good breather.
While having a mild asthma attack that night, I thought about the comfort a big, long breath brings. It clears the mind.
Then it hit me-the first breath of mankind was directly given by a great, majestic, all-powerful God. Humankind was filled with the "breath of life". How amazing is that?! He decided to form us out of dust (seemingly nothing) and fill us with breath (seemingly nothing) and created mankind.
Just dwell in that today, as you breath in and out. That breath was, and continues to be, quite a lovely gift from God.
duh. right?
Yeah, of course breathing is important, but the notion that breath is one of the "givers of life" in our bodies is astounding to me.
During Yoga (which I'm becoming really fond of) our teacher was talking about the importance of breathing in stretching. A steady breath causes a person to be able to relax and stretch up to four times more than a person with a sporadic breathing pattern.
Then while in choir, the teacher was stressing the point of good breathing habits. He spoke of the weak sound of a bad breather in contrast to the full, beautiful sound of a good breather.
While having a mild asthma attack that night, I thought about the comfort a big, long breath brings. It clears the mind.
Then it hit me-the first breath of mankind was directly given by a great, majestic, all-powerful God. Humankind was filled with the "breath of life". How amazing is that?! He decided to form us out of dust (seemingly nothing) and fill us with breath (seemingly nothing) and created mankind.
Just dwell in that today, as you breath in and out. That breath was, and continues to be, quite a lovely gift from God.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
five
disclaimer: this is completely incorrect and atrocheeous. (see what I did there?) (trochee is a word that's accented on the first syllable)...
the cold makes the corners of the windows so white.
coffee and my dear are my morning companions.
quiet words about the Maker are spoken with delight.
for me and my friend are daughters of Zion.
little laughs come from both of our young lips,
as we share our life's joy.
from our coffee, we take many little sips.
and the rain falls, so coy.
the greyness of the day beckons us near.
ah, how lovely is today and are you, my dear.
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