cloudy blue thoughts

a poem

2010-10-22T08:51:00.002-05:00

fields turn from green to brown
as the torch bearer slowly
wanders through the trees
one by one, each set a-flame;
mother nature’s arsonry.
a gasp of breath: the world’s on fire
[and we smile for a time]
til the flames subside;
the falling leaves, fading embers
and with the last is left a skeleton of ash,
an empty tree: the soul’s sadness.

death and winter are upon us.

screaming into the wind, perhaps

2010-09-09T11:34:00.003-05:00

I have been mulling over this and moving between rage and sadness. Who does this Jones guy think he is? What is he trying to accomplish? Why are the Muslims to inclined to violent retaliation? Why is the whole world involved in this?

I could sit here and go and on and on with every complaint, side, and argument. But that’s pointless.

The majority of my sadness (and yes, anger) comes out my perspective as a Christian in this situation, and how I feel that the tenets of our own faith have been ignored.

I think there are two main problems causing all this ruckus, and one simple solution:

1. Christians thinking it’s okay to burn Qurans.

This is– or should be– obvious. It’s not okay for Christians to burn Qurans.

Where is the love in this act? What’s the point? If you burned every book that opposed the Christian faith or was “full of lies” you’d have an eternal inferno. And have we ever read the Quran? In what ways is it so offensive that burning it is somehow a sensible solution?

It’s their holy book. And Muslims have faith that it is true, just as we have faith that our holy book, The Bible, is true. Both religions believe they are right.

Targeting the religion of the country from which the September 11th terrorists came is in the same vein of the Muslims who want to destroy the whole of America because of one church who burns their religious book. Both sides are WRONG.

Which leads me to the second problem:

2. Muslims threatening violence because of Quran burning (and our response to it)

The threat of violence in return for such an act is simply adding fuel to an even bigger fire. Hate begets hate, and it is an endless cycle. It is wrong for the Muslims to be retaliating in such a way, but that can’t drive our response as Christians.

Herein lies the proverbial comment “well people burn bibles all the time and no one says anything”. True, but why? Are Christians doormats? Has the “liberal media” polluted our minds and hatched a devious plan to ignore all bible burning related news items and brainwash the American public?

It doesn’t matter, the real issue is that Christians are not supposed to retaliate. We are told we will face trouble, be persecuted, hated, rejected (Matthew 24:9). It’s all there, we aren’t left in mystery as to what will happen to us in this life if we follow Christ.

We are to pray for those who persecute us, not bomb the heck out of them, not destroy them, not even to seek justice on our own behalf. (Luke 6:27-36)

That is the difference.

So in looking to a solution, we shouldn’t pursue the idea that because Christians don’t get justice we shouldn’t cater to the Muslims, nor that we are weak for backing down in fear.

The solution lies simply in the fact that if Christians are truly followers of Christ, we must obey Him by loving others, and doing unto them as we would have them do to us, no matter how much we are hated.

If we don’t want people to burn our bibles, we shouldn’t burn theirs.

But they still will.

And no, it isn’t “fair”, but Jesus never promised it would be. In fact, He warned us that it wouldn’t be.

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

So, really... who cares! Burn all the Bibles you want, you can’t shake our faith! Our God has already conquered.

Everyone just needs to take a deep breath, back up and open our eyes to the eternal picture. As Christians our hope is in Christ, and that in the end, He will bring justice.

But until then, our calling is love.

So please, Mr. Jones, put your matches away.

grand theft auto: the sequel

2009-04-07T09:51:00.007-05:00

who would have thought there'd be a sequel? isn't once enough? i had my suspicions, recognizing that i still live in lawrence, a city of safety, wealth and overly sympathetic cops who are definitely NOT corrupt, oh no...

but my greatest fear of a repeat offense were realized this morning when i proudly left the house on time for my dentist appointment. this time there was no shock, i just stood there going "NONONONONONONONONO". probably out loud. too bad my neighbors don't sit on their front porches drinking coffee in the morning. they would be provided with endless amounts of entertainment from my goings-on alone.

yes this time was different. instead of being dumbfounded and almost amused, i was genuinely pissed. AGAIN?! seriously?! though it's somehow believable, anticipated possibly but definitely not something that should be a reality.

and i can't help but feel that it's by no fault of my own. i didn't spring the cash for an alarm yet (because i have all this money burning a hole in my pocket but... now i'll just spend it on another deductible!) and it's not like they sell clubs at the grocery store (which is the only place i have time to shop at). maybe i am too forgiving of human nature, or was too hopeful that lawrence's finest had done their job and secured justice. well, i was wrong. fool me once, shame on you... fool me twice... shame on me?

yesterday was a bad day. by normal standards. workload is overwhelming, software non-compliant, the doctor's office proved a comedy of errors (deserving of it's own blog entirely) and then my computer went on the fritz and is now in a "coma". when relaying all of this to my roommate she said "wow, sarah, your life really sucks". to which i was taken aback- my life doesn't suck. i really can't complain esp after watching videos about the horrors of sex trafficking... but her point was that a lot of crap happens to me a lot of the time. which i acknowledged but shrugged off with a "whatever".

today, i conceded to her opinion. yeah, this sucks. today sucks. but you know what. it's not my life that sucks, it's just all the crap that happens to me that sucks. but i think it's good for me. i think i have a healthier perspective on life.

life is tough. bad things happen. ALL THE TIME. to most people. and you know what, the bad things that happen to me pale in comparison to cancer patients, slum-dwellers in third world countries, women who are abused all over the world... the list could go on...

and there's nothing i can do but keep on living and do my best to help those who have it worse off. i am blessed to have people who do care about me, who will lend me their car for the whole day... i really have nothing to complain about (i've also been through the whole range of emotions from swears to tears today so i've gotten it out of my system).

and if you are one of those people where things just magically work out for you, or if you feel like you lack excitement... or even if you feel like your life sucks, do something for someone who you know is worse off. lend a car-theft victim your car, donate to a place like Love146 or sponsor a child in the slums of Africa, be there for your friends who are in a bad relationship, LISTEN to those around you and let their problems trump your own. even if you have a crummy day, chances are, someone around you is having a crummier one. be mindful of that.

i am learning that over and over again. yeah my day sucks but how's yours? what do you need? hopefully, if we all do our part someone will take care of me so i can take care of whoever "you" are.

with a full heart...

2009-03-06T16:24:00.002-05:00

i have made a major life decision (yikes!)

i will be attending trinity evangelical divinity school in chicago this fall. while i don't know the end, the means will be an mdiv degree.

some of you may known i've had a desire to go to seminary or that i feel a constant thirst for change... the culmination of these two factors woke me up every morning with the same thought: i want to go to seminary. and i want to go somewhere new.

i sent away for info from the east, west and in-between. the west coast... how exciting! however... after visiting trinity over the holidays and finding it quite enticing, i deliberated, prayed, and eventually succumbed to practicality and the achings of my heart to not only be at an excellent school, but closer to my family (now what will they bug me about??)

the gradual peace and confidence that God has given me to do this was long awaited but now consumes me. i am excited and totally freaked out. while i grew up in chicago, i have lived in boston for almost 9 years.

9 beautiful years including college, epic ocean moments, the red sox winning the world series, life-long friendships and a church home.

so it is with a heavy heart that i say goodbye. goodbye to a place that i fell in love with, have had a relationship, and will now leave for a city only known in childhood. goodbye to the dearest of friends, the best of co-workers and a network of people who have supported and loved me.

but it is with a full heart that i welcome a new opportunity to learn, to stretch my comfort zone even within a familiar place, and that i embrace the love of a family i have so dearly missed. while chicago is not portland, seattle or san francisco, it is a chance at something new, something different and now something i am truly enthusiastic about.

so, come august: my dear east coast friends, i will be blowing you kisses through the tears; and my dear family and soon-to-be chicago friends, i look forward to undeniably good times ahead.

and Big G... thanks for the invitation and for giving me the heart to say yes.

grand theft auto

2009-02-10T09:53:00.006-05:00

no, not the video game. this is the real thing.

friday morning i nonchalantly left the house- coffee in hand- and was stopped short at the sight of an empty driveway. I wish there had been a camera to capture the look on my face. where was my car? it took me a few minutes to run through the list of possibilities- some wild- before i concluded that it had to be stolen. i do live in lawrence where such an incident is highly likely. but to me? in disbelief i went inside to do what all people do when their cars get stolen: call the [highly sympathetic] police.

now this was great. behold, my conversation with the lawrence's finest:
me: "hi, i'd like to report a stolen vehicle"
highly sympathetic woman: "oh you have to fill that report out in person"
me: "i don't have a car!"
highly sympathetic woman: "well, take a cab"

daaaannnggggg... they are serious over there. so luckily i got a ride to the station, which is a portrait of efficiency and cleanliness. the highly sympathetic officer helping me acted like i was reporting a stolen tube of lipstick.

one thing i did get was a little perspective. there was a woman in line with me who didn't speak a word of english, and had to have another walk-in translate that she needed a restraining order b/c someone was trying to murder her. the reaction she got from the highly sympathetic police officers was as if she was trying to get a restraining order b/c her teddy bear was trying to strangle her in the night.

i just got my car stolen...

surprisingly, the whole fiasco was more entertaining than traumatizing for me. who steals a crummy honda from a driveway in possibly the nicest neighborhood in lawrence? joke was on them really. i gave up hope of ever seeing sexy sadie again (yes, i named my car and yes, it's after the beatles song). which is fine except that new cars, even new used cars, cost money.

it was in shock and awe that i received a call from a highly sympathetic police office later friday evening reported that they had indeed recovered my "vehicle". they told me which towing company to call. i called. the well-spoken gentleman on the other end proceeded to tell me that my car was not there and to call the police back and tell them they were crazy. right. so while i was on the phone with the police somehow all the geniuses involved figured out my car was indeed at this fine establishment. i called back to find out when i could come see my car and the thick massachusetts accent replied "well you'd better come when it's light out". yikes! what did that mean?

saturday i go to the tow lot to find the damage far better than expected. all they took was the rear bumper and the tail lights, they tore apart the inside as if i had something of value (ha!) and made off with my phone charger and, of all things, my bible.

basically, these people are idiots. that's all they took? my scratched up, hanging on by a thread bumper, my cheap-o phone charger (not my expensive ipod paraphernalia) and my beat-up bible. at least they took the bible, and you know, i honestly hope to meet them in heaven b/c of it. (and i hope the first passage they turn to is Exodus 20:15)

so... i am grateful seeing as it could have been worse. no one was hurt, my car can be fixed, and sadie and i will be reunited once again.

my only moment of disappointment was upon reading the police report which stated "no arrest made". what?! they didn't stake out my car? no snipers were involved? whatEVER.

for now i have a rental (which smells like someone killed a pack of cigarettes and them fester and rot in a puddle of water). life could be worse. no one is trying to murder me.

THIS JUST IN: as i was writing this insurance guy #3 called me to inform me he just checked out my car, but i can't get it fixed yet b/c the police haven't released the vehicle.

why is that, you might ask? well, turns out lawrence's finest are indeed highly sympathetic and are, in fact, fingerprinting my car! wow, who knew they actually "cared"? (maybe seeing as there is a giant hand print on the passenger window, they saw the potential for a smooth investigation...)

well, we'll see how this all turns out... in the meantime, those criminals better be doing some serious reading...

an honest look at compassion

2009-01-30T11:02:00.007-05:00

"Compassion is the virtue of being moved to action by the sight of suffering" [oliver o'donovan]

there is such a strange conundrum when it comes to the issue of compassion. it comes from our nature to judge the appropriateness of need.

For example, no one can argue that children living in the slums of Africa deserve compassion. However, what about the unstable woman of wealthy Andover who calls the church in desperate need of money b/c she blew it all on nose jobs, gambling and possibly drugs? a woman who has never known "need" and who is in the position she's in only b/c of her own poor choices? Does she deserve compassion, and if so can we say that it is the same compassion deserved by the African child who has never known anything but utter poverty, hunger and need?

i personally struggle with this. my heart aches for the poorest of the poor in Africa. i sponsor a child, i've been on a mission trip to Kenya and would go on a million more. but when it comes to a woman who has been irresponsible with her means, i am not as easily "moved to action". of course, i listen to her as she goes on and on, i promise to connect her to a pastor and to help her in any way we can, but my level of sympathy is very low. she questions the presence of God and His provision and it is so hard for me not to tell her to wake up and get a grip. she calls her situation "dire" and i want to yell in her ear that she can't even begin to know what "dire" actually is.

what i did tell her was that God does provide, but not in the way we always expect. He won't dump money in your lap but He might give you the opportunity to take an odd job here and there. after saying this, my mind immediately went back to the poor person in Africa who may not even have that chance. is it ok for them to question God's provision under their circumstances? How does God provide for the impoverished? does He?

and i digress...

there is so much that is hard to digest. when you mention volunteering at a local soup kitchen you hear a story from someone who works in that town and says that the people there get plenty of funding and government assistance but they squander it, and therefore her claim is that they are not truly needy.

when i was recently in arizona, we drove through a lot of indian reservation land. there was sadness b/c of all the run-down trailer homes, but raised eyebrows at the amount of nice cars outside them. we heard from several locals that the native americans on the reservations no longer work, but depend on checks from the government and the casinos. they receive a free car from the government at age 16, and are eligible to receive multiple replacements. most are alcoholics. i found myself torn between being upset and disappointed that they could live like that, abandoning the work ethic of their earlier generations who would farm that land– and frustration with the root of the problem, which our government started in the first place.

how do we deal with two-faced issues like these? how do i deal with the people that come in the church asking for money and food- and they drive away in a nicer car than i have, or they come back a different day with a different story and you know they are lying to you? i have to admit my first reaction is anger. how can they be so selfish and lazy and lie to a church just to get a couple bucks?

the only thing i can come back to is Jesus. what did He say about this? He said: "I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'(from Matthew 25)

when have i been "moved to action"? am i willing to help anyone, so matter what the circumstance?

clearly, i've failed at that. or i have helped, but with a sour attitude.

there's been a few incidents when i've heard the holy spirit tell me to do something compassionate for a random stranger. most of those times, i refused to act on it. it was in those moments that i missed Jesus.

i refused to help Jesus.

out of all of those times, i can't really remember all the ones where i did obey His voice, i am only haunted by the times i didn't.

compassion is an everyday opportunity. the real dilemma is not if we agree with the reasons that make a person "needy", or trust their motives, or have the audacity to think we can decide if they are deserving of our compassion (as i am guilty of), but rather how we are going to act towards them in a way that is Christ-like, as if they are Christ himself.

the truth is we are all needy- we all need Jesus and that is the greatest thing we can share. without Him, we are all destitute, and our situation is indeed "dire".

inspiration at the opera

2009-01-25T21:19:00.004-05:00

an unexpected occurrence, indeed. not for lack of beautiful music, of course, but opera plots are reputably wild and obscure.

today's performace of haydn's orfeo was unstaged, consisting simply of orchestra and voice. this arrangement could easily have allowed a divorce from plot if one did not follow the translated text. at times they seemed indifferent, perhaps– the plot acting as a vehicle for the musical composition. I personally believe in this instance the simplicity allowed the beauty of the music and the voices to dominate the performance, rather than theatrics or plot.

however, i made a discovery. i was ambivalent to the plot itself, but it was the words which aroused my inspiration. first of all, italian is a language dear to my heart given my experience in italy, and when sung by this caliber of voices it channels the divine. secondly, a fact so often overlooked is that these composers were also poets. haydn was indeed a poet with carefully crafted and delightfully descriptive lyrics. his sensitivity to the consequences of love rings true.

here are the excerpts i enjoyed the most:

Thought is concerned with objective;
every desire stems from them.
We are governed by our affections,
and yet claim to be free.
So a bird will spread its wings
and think that it can fly,
when the unfortunate beast is tied
by its foot, all unknowingly.

...

One can love even in old age
when the hearts are those of lovers.
True love never alters
when it rules the heart.

...

Closed are the beautiful
eyes full of lovelight;
their splendor
now gleams among the stars.

...

One who lives but does not hope
for love and love's delight–
it would be better to be dead
than living thus.

The sense are sharper,
the joys more intense,
of one whose days are spent
in the arms of love.

...

Hope is nothing but a siren song

...

Constancy you ask of me?
Ah, before the constancy
and ardor of my loving heart desert me,
the stars will be snuffed out,
the sun turn to ice,
shadows radiate light, the sky turn dark!
The beauty that set my heart on fire
has made my heart invincible.

perhaps it was the romance of attending "the opera", or the magnificent quality of music... but my belief in love resurfaced. my numbness to the idea of ever being able to know that feeling again– or even want it– melted away. not completely, for i have not yet found it. but i believe in it again.

thank you, joseph haydn, for writing this masterpiece of music and poetry and for waiting 60 years to have it performed. it was worth it... for all of us.

the Word

2009-01-12T15:17:00.006-05:00

having just celebrated the birth of Christ, the Word made flesh, it seems appropriate to express my passion for studying the Word and for seeking a deeper knowledge and love of Christ.

"Since I have first gained the use of reason my inclination toward learning has been so violent and strong a passion that neither the scoldings of other people... nor my own reflections... have been able to stop me from following this natural impulse that God gave me"
~Juana Ines de la Cruz (1691)

i thirst, i ache to learn, to always seek beyond what i already know. perhaps this is a healthy lust for truth, or maybe i am just eager to keep my eyes open, my mind alive. in any case, i have always enjoyed learning. a college professor once, intuitively acknowledging my eager nature, advised me never to stop, and encouraged me to continue learning even after my formal education was complete. at that time i assumed that my undergraduate college experience would be the completion of my formal education, but i held loosely to the possibility of grad school.

over the past few years, as i have been growing in my faith and my desire for Christ, my passion for knowledge has shifted from the worldly to the theological. i want to learn about the Word of God, I want to know the details, the original Greek, Hebrew, history... and i want to be able to approach it from an informed, analytical standpoint. i have so many questions, and there is so much i would like to discuss with fellow believers and share with those who seek a greater understanding of God and the Bible, those who may not know Him.

i feel that the only way to quench this thirst is to attend seminary. so, that is what i am attempting to accomplish. one step at a time, but i am on the path, regardless of those who intimidate or criticize, and with all gratefulness to those who encourage and assist.

the next few months are crucial... i will have to work hard to apply, decide, and prepare my heart for whatever lies ahead. i will need to be constantly in prayer and i will need your prayers. i will also need things like a new computer, new kinds of software (i thought i'd be upgrading to Adobe CS4, but instead i am trying to acquire a copy of Logos, bible software!) and booksbooksbooks.

while this seems daunting and scary, i couldn't be more excited. i start my first class at Gordon Conwell at the end of January, my first taste. hopefully it will be only the beginning, the whetting of my palette.

as many of my previous posts have expressed, i can't shake the idea that there is more to life, that i am somehow missing out on something greater. this might be it! i guess we'll see what God has planned...

a sense of place

2008-08-13T14:11:00.005-05:00

sometimes i feel lost. i realize where i am and where i am not and wonder what i am doing here and not there. but i never feel like i'm home. nothing is "it". maybe that's why i can't stop moving from place to place. Am i looking for "it" or just trying to scratch an itch? do i have an incurable desire for change, for motion? change, risk, to be in motion: these all make me feel the most alive.

how can i ever leave this place? the boats and beaches and warm adventures of a summer night. hands down autumn is my favorite season, and as we draw nearer the time, i can't help but long for the leaves to change and give way to the wealth of inspiration that is new england in the fall. the descent. and the only respite in winter: the empty shores and active seas. but can i stay here forever when there are other cities to explore, only places to be?

the sense that earth is not my home aggravates my ability to find peace anywhere. yes, i can make any apartment, house or room a comfortable place to live, but i have ceased to become attached. who cares about anywhere when the only place I really want to be is heaven.

i have experienced 2 significant deaths within the past week. my sense of real or right or heaven or earth is all confused right now. our time here on earth is so short, so fleeting, like a vapor (eccl. 1:2) if we have a faith in jesus christ there is an eternal home waiting for us, and we should look to it with hope and expectation. but for those left behind, there is a devastating emptiness left in the absence of someone we love. we shed tears not for their sake, but for our own desire to have them still with us. the tragedy is that we are still left here with earthly trials, and they are finally home.

i used to be afraid to die. really afraid- i dreaded it every time i got into a car. but now, i see the joy in looking heavenward. nothing on this earth matters. we live to serve God, to glorify him and to expand his kingdom. He has been gracious and good to give us family, friends, nature and other pleasures to enjoy. But nothing lasts except our relationship with Him, and if we are called to love Him above all else, why wouldn't we want to be with the one we love the most?

reading in the library

2008-02-05T15:13:00.000-05:00

quiet. and suddenly you look up from the page... familiarizing yourself with reality outside the binding. has it only been an hour? it seems like an eternity that you've been lost between the lines, down lanes, at cocktail parties, watching people's upper lips, back in the 1950s, the 30s, in the mysteries of a marriage... it is a strange feeling to look around and see that the world is still going about its normal business, unaware of where you have just been. you reluctantly slide the book back into its neatly stacked place, and as you approach the door, you take one more breath to revere this silent alternate reality before stepping into the cold and misty existence that is yours.

absence

2008-01-23T16:29:00.000-05:00

absence from someone you want to be with is torture. there is the kind when you aren't sure when you are going to see them again, and the kind when you know exactly how long it will be. these are two very different forms of torture: either the days begin with new hope and the end with the sickening weight of disappointment, or you wake up dreading all waking hours, but the last moment before sleep will have you giddy with joy that another day has passed. while one form of agony is suspense, the other is the awful knowledge of time. how many days hours minutes you will have to wait. which is worse? well, i have to say that at least in the knowing there's a smile.

nothing to lose

2008-01-22T23:21:00.000-05:00

as soon as she completed the act she felt she had lost. the attempt was like a drop in a bucket that would never be filled. the obvious heat of the midday sun evaporating all hope almost immediately... until the first crack of thunder... and it rains...

at peace

2008-01-19T15:53:00.000-05:00

...what a concept. how hard is that, to be "at peace"? it seems almost unattainable (esp for one who thrives on change). BUT... i've had an epiphany.

maybe being at peace doesn't have to do with liking where you are or what is happening in your life, but realizing that life is going to be hard, and there will be ups and downs, but that's okay, and that beauty can be found even in the darkest of times.

realizing that made me feel that i was going to be okay, that having your life in order or being content does not equal being at peace. no, it is taking the good and the bad in stride, and trusting that God is there to carry you through both, and you can always learn something and grow some more.

that is my new vision, and i know that no matter what happens, i can be at peace.

deception

2008-01-15T21:49:00.000-05:00

mist lifts thickly off snowy fields
as the last signs of winter
evaporate
into false spring

it is too soon for the smell of mud
everything is wet and dull
browns and greys
with no immediate promise of greens

the false hope
like a dream of love that feels
so real
is this balmy weather
and its mid-january appeal

window

2008-01-08T13:36:00.000-05:00

from a window up high i see
morning light on the rooftops:
a Hopper-esque scene.

from the same window i see
the fiery orb of the setting sun
the orange blaze sinking into the trees
like a dying ember
ends a seemingly perfect day

and who's to know what tomorrow
will bring
just yellow light cast on houses
like a painting
if only to hold this moment
to keep the feeling
the uncertainty
of an unbelievable dream

from spiralling ecstatically this

2007-12-11T12:50:00.000-05:00

from spiralling ecstatically this

proud nowhere of earth's most prodigious night
blossoms a newborn babe:around him,eyes
--gifted with every keener appetite
than mere unmiracle can quite appease--
humbly in their imagined bodies kneel
over time space doom dream while floats the whole

perhapsless mystery of paradise)

mind without soul may blast some universe
to might have been,and stop ten thousand stars
but not one heartbeat of this child;nor shall
even prevail a million questionings
against the silence of his mother's smile

--whose only secret all creation sings

e.e. cummings

[painting is Correggio's "Nativity (Holy Night)"]

an inner winter glance

2007-12-09T15:48:00.000-05:00

a benefit of winter's thieving the leaves is that you can see through the trees. new things that you never knew were there: houses, streams, rocks, secret roads, etc. everything is exposed, the bare tree branches, pretty houses on the hill. it is a time for seeing clearly, for breathing clearly as the cold crisp air attacks your lungs- making you feel more awake, more aware you're alive. but it can be painful. the undiscovered stream may not want a visitor, the icy air stings your fingertips, the truth hurts. discovery doesn't always give way to a pleasant reality. at least it's the season for hibernation. for comfy sweaters and warm drinks, for an excuse to stand on the inside of the window pane, watching snow clothe the naked trees.

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

~e.e. cummings

escapism

2007-11-30T15:28:00.000-05:00

suddenly the overwhelming desire to change location descends like a ton of bricks. really heavy and clear ones. time to go. to move on. somewhere else. to leave.

what a beautiful thought. i've finally subscribed to the disease of escapism. or maybe i'm just realizing that there are so many other places out there to explore, to get to know.

i hate the idea of running away from people. they're the same everywhere. moving to a new place just means revisiting the same problems with new faces. leaving close relationships to start from the beginning again.

it is the notion of new coffee shops, beaches, waves, apartments, jobs, streets, loves that is so enticing. and where will i go? portland? colorado? san francisco? chicago? (no, not chicago. not yet) what will i find? what will i learn?

maybe this is an itch i could scratch by spending some time isolated in the mountains or something. but i'm not convinced it would, i long for change. cities feel like other planets, and i've always been keen on space travel...

imagine that... to watch the earth from above, to see it turning, the freedom from gravity, the quiet distance from all people, and the poetry of something so majestic... i wonder how Jesus must've felt- looking down from the heavens, with control of the entire universe, knowing he would be subjected to human nature. to birth, death and all the joys in between. i wonder what he dreaded more... the descent from heaven into human form or the pain of death. sure puts the advent season into perspective.

in all circumstances

2007-11-27T10:18:00.001-05:00

the appointed day of thanks has passed. but i am thankful today. and i was thankful yesterday. and i pray to God i will be thankful tomorrow.

i am thankful...

for my morning commute so that i can think about these things.
that i can listen to music and it can send me to all kinds of places.
that someone discovered their ability to make music, that there are those who have the gift of creating music, and that i can be inspired by it.
for the wind that wakes you at 4:43 am.
for rain and the beautiful sound it makes, and for the excuse to stay inside.
for red wine, hot water and candlelight.
for trees that provide paper and for textures like trees and paper.
for colors and the fact that they mean different things and that when you put a bunch of them together in a certain way it makes a painting.
that there is a theory that everything could be composed of vibrating strings.
that the day i arrived in rome i realized it was moving, that it existed and i think we are seemingly unaware that other cities and places are actually alive because we don't see it.
that i can people-watch in the piazza navona while chicago is waking.
for other cultures and that rome is so different from boston which is so different from nairobi and yet we are all human, we are all subjected to the same emotions, the same successes and the same shortcomings.
that you can have the privilege of sitting next to really cool people on an airplane for a change.
that i can see someone in need and want to help them, and that i can feel sorry that i didn't.
that God is our creator and that He wasn't selfish and allows us to create in our own failed human way.
for the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.
for the ability to taste and for food and that i get to eat it everyday.
for the gift of memory.
for the hard times in life because they make us who we are. that some good can come out of them.
for the unknown and that we don't know what will happen tomorrow but that i do know that it won't always be easy, that all my dreams won't come true and that's okay because whatever happens will give me the choice to be someone wiser.

i am thankful for existence. for being human. for the Trinity which gives access to God who promises to be our Father. we are not detached from Him but a part of this tension between birth and death, darkness and light, heaven and earth. and it is nothing short of magnificent.

this week's playlist

2007-11-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

1. lullaby the cure
2. three doors vast
3. iiiee tori amos
4. 10,000 days (wings pt.2) tool
5. i will not forget you sarah mclachlan
6. misguided angel cowboy junkies
7. donut song tori amos
8. i'm dying vast
9. the hanging garden the cure
10. in my time of dying led zeppelin
11. you vast

leaving new york

2007-10-24T23:00:00.000-05:00

i remember why i stay away from new york city. it's 5 am, and though the city is half-asleep, its highways are a tangled mess of confusion and intimidation. crossing the tappan zee proves effortless- the city glitters in the distance, giving the illusion of allure- the waning parties, the intoxicated masses stumbling out of bars and clubs at this ungodly hour. i'm glad to be watching from here.

the saw mill parkway is missed and the first bout of frustration ensues. the wrong highway is unknowingly being followed nearing wits end... and the final straw: mount kisco. what are the odds that the only exit i decide to venture off to pursue a dunkin donuts turns out to be a wild goose chase through a known and feared abyss of a NY town? miles and minutes of aggravation finally reward. the florescent lights of the dd are the only sign of life in this sleepy hollow. and somehow we do end up on the saw mill after all, and now much farther south than ever anticipated. and yet i still find inspiration as i clutch my coffee- driving as fast as i can on the road out of NYC.

i am meant to be in motion. though 19 hours of driving is by no means fun for anyone- it is the hilly roads that wind us through the small country towns of southern ohio that inspire. wishing you could stop at the local festival in bainbridge. gaping as the setting sun sets the oranges and reds of the autumn leaves on fire. realizing that a tiny desire to live the simple life exists deep within. or maybe not so deep.

travel is a relief to those who feel that life as we know it isn't enough. not necessarily lacking, just very single-minded. we only know this. day in and day out. here. if we could know that, too, how much more satisfied would our perspective be? what would there tell us, teach us? i seek to live everywhere- to try everything. i fear this cannot be the case. but the desire to know- to broaden the horizons of the mind, the soul- will always move me forward.

as i drive along the familiar new england roads, the leaves are falling, swirling around my car and i snap out of auto-pilot to smile and acknowledge that i can find beauty here. now. the colors of october trees are more brilliant than they were 18 hours away. i couldn't smell the ocean in ohio and i know where to find the best sushi north of boston. but this is not home. and neither is there. or anywhere. this sense of detachment- not from moment but from place- this desire for movement is freedom that makes it okay to just go...

echoes in the memory

2007-10-10T09:57:00.000-05:00

a hypnotic retreat into memory can be the most dangerous adventure. and there are pockets in the memory- like wormholes- that are not the recollection of an event, but the memory of a feeling, a dream, a vision... something that never actually happened but your mind at one point sought to explore. this could send you reeling into the mental cosmos of so many places in time, so many portals with no real grounding for where and when you came from. going from reality to imagination into a sensation that no longer exists except as a remembered feeling. it's the closest thing to tripping out i'll have- this journey through the mind.

time travel is possible in that sense- i can go back to any moment in my past, to any feeling of any moment- and the experience that follows is so strange and beautiful. to feel a feeling again but outside of it's context- to see something in an illusory way that reminds you of a place you have been to only in your mind. to be in a place you have been so many times but b/c of the memories that reside there, your experience of that place and that moment is so different from anyone else's. and these instances of time travel through the memory are how i imagine the real concept of time travel is. we can't control to what time or place we go, we only know we have found a portal somewhere, and not to take it would be ignorant of the exploration of the soul.

And as my boy t.s. says...

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

in lieu of an alternate reality

2007-06-11T20:46:00.000-05:00

the thrill of the rising tide
as it slowly nears outstretched toes
legs dangle from the roughly textured rock
waiting for the surge that submerges
beyond anxious ankles the chill of the water cannot be endured
the brief sting delights
a strange icy numbness in the heat of the afternoon sun.

there are moments, brief and almost unbearable, when reality is better than the alternative. we drink, we get high, we take pills... all in search of an alternate reality. what is isn't enough, we seek to trump it with a state of being that is false and temporarily thrilling.

the only truly thrilling thing is finding moments in our existence when the alternative reality seems least appealing. where we don't need any stimulation besides what is simply there.

watching the pull of the rising tide, warm sun on your face, an approaching thunderstorm, the moment you find out someone loves you... the moment you realize you love them back... the list is endless and unbiased

sometimes these moments are more brief than a high, but they can feel like an eternity- for they are outside of time. when we encounter heightened sensation by purely natural means, the experience is more intense than any high, and the memory far outlasts that of any other.

in these moments, time is forgotten.

[to love is to be outside of time.]

the sound of thunder

2007-05-11T11:15:00.000-05:00

Reminds that there is hope of summer. That this isn't just a spring tease- the long days of light, of sunkissed skin and the smell of sand- they are to come. and they will. like the gentle roll of thunder. so thrilling, and sadly, so brief.

it must have been a silent day [draft 1]

2007-04-06T11:12:00.000-05:00

the ninth hour

it must have been silent that day
when centuries of prophesy-
nearly fulfilled-
heaved and sighed
took one last breath
struck the ancient chord
and fell to rest.
surely the man was the Son of God

all Jerusalem solemnly regards
the bitter wind with a heavenward gaze
a brief moment of hope- a plea
a deep shudder
not with chill, but the realization,
in a deafening silence,
of all that had passed before their eyes.

saturday

it must have been a silent day
the world not moving
in quiet discord
with that which had come to pass

what was to happen
has happened, almost
in silent pause
the truth lays buried now
in a cold a lifeless tomb
behind the stone
in that aching silence
the ache of the stillness
and all that had passed before their eyes.

i will arise

2007-03-19T23:02:00.000-05:00

there is the heavy storm that is stress. but it does not approach with dark clouds and thunder- it is continuous downpour. incessant gray. bleak and colorless horizons if any at all. but sometimes- just for a moment, a cloud breathes in and there is a pause. we begin to see things again.

the way the setting sun reddens the tops of the dull winter trees. the poetic motion of a bird in flight- suspended middair- by chance in time with the music. the way your memory burns my heart. the way honey sticks oh so sweetly to my lips as i lick sticky fingers, the taste as awkward and delightful as an unexpected kiss. and i can remember things again... and the memory burns the way the heat of the midday sun feels against my skin- so pleasantly warm and so delicately painful.

and with the sigh of a cloudshift the moment is gone. you are gone. and i can only remember the memory. but now even the gray is seen in different shades.

today's forecast: clear and cold

2007-01-17T11:20:00.000-05:00

the cold is like a drug- breath sharpens, numbness becomes a living thing.
heat is weakness, cold is desensitizing.

i decided that our resistance to God is kind of like our resistance to getting out of bed in the morning. we lay idly tangled in the sheets of apathy and selfish desire, until in one unexplained moment, we throw off the covers and put our feet to the floor, ready to embrace the Day.

an amelie after-effect

2007-01-07T15:28:00.000-05:00

the first movie i watched in the new year was Amelie- an old, comforting favorite. but this time around i felt strangely inspired to take action against the sad world as amelie did. with no idea where to begin, i simply lamented the fact that i do not ride the subway regularly and would therefore have no hopes of a love affair on colored flyers and in photo booths.

then i received a knock on my door. a neighbor's complaint. perfect. let it be known we live in such close proximity to the surrounding houses that i could practically crawl into this particular neighbors bedroom window via my back porch. so in order to restore harmony and up the ante on window-porch hopping potential... i decided to bake as a peace offering. then i had the brilliant idea to extend the gesture to other neighbors. and after the making the rounds and being met with utter shock and unwarranted pleasantry, i walked away from the final delivery with a sense of satisfaction and a smile on my face not unlike that of the triumphant amelie.

i have decided that this calls for more good deeds. subway trains and love affairs or not.

flip-flop phenomenon

2007-01-06T18:10:00.000-05:00

i do not know what month it is. the weather is a sporadic chicanery- i can hear laughter in the warm wind that mocks the january expectation. i am wearing flip flops. i am walking through harvard square and there are chess players at tables surrounded by crowds of people wearing scarves of denial or t-shirts & shorts of embrace. it is like the last days of summer or the first of spring, but this is the supposed dead of winter. and what does that mean? i find myself smiling at the crowds of people gathered outdoors, the alive feeling that the dark of winter is somehow subjected to. i know the cold will shriek in heavy upon us. and i will enjoy the winter chill, the dark days and the reincarnation of hibernation. when it comes.

we must move on.

2006-12-29T11:56:00.000-05:00

we hate what has happened. it repulses but renews. the chance to start again, though ill. to erase the past— no, to replace the awful memories with better ones. the thoughts that sicken weigh us down.

we must move on.

we love what has happened. we cling to it, we don't want to let it go as we fare into the unknown. the possibility of losing something beautiful. we are happy, and we don't want it to change.

we must move on.

is the future brighter? there is no empirical data to suggest that today is any better than yesterday. the future and the past— both so bittersweet. it's the movement forward that is meaning. moving toward love. the movement toward light, for we may always be battling the darkness, but the light must be ahead. for when it is not even visible there is no hope, no meaning. the light is love, love in the most rich and simple sense of the word. everything that the Word claims it to be, everything that the One who loves us the most embodies, exemplifies, urges.

but we can only try. and go on trying. for satisfaction, achievement, actualization — these are towers of egotistical temptation which can never be realized. they are as illusory as 'happiness'— which is only a dsitraction from the joy which lives "sudden in a shaft of sunlight": the brief moment, the brief pause between past and future.

"love is when here and now cease to matter". when we— ourselves, myself ceases to matter. when the overwhelming and inexhaustible sense of inadequacy, of shortcoming ceases to affect us, we are love.

and to get there, we must move on.

a theme of love

2006-12-25T23:53:00.000-05:00

what is time but to be in an out of time? For now is the time when the retreat— the escape into childhood memory is welcomed, encouraged— perhaps made inescapable. This moment, this day, this ritual enhanced by music & precious memory— like building blocks: year upon year, era upon era. to this, now— never to repeat or outweigh the past— only to remember. nostalgia sustains.

fission. fusion. what is self-sustaining? the sun sustains its energy by nuclear fusion— how do we sustain ours? by a pulling apart of slamming together? by combining our existence with a higher power? or pulling apart from the sin which so easily entagles?

why do we do what we do? why do we self-destruct? annihilate? masochise? why do we hurt ourselves without a thought— but we cringe when others do it? we are repulsed when we see our sinful potential manifest in another. why is there such anger and distress when we have been and will be no better? there is a hatred within me for something, somewhere. but i cannot figure out what. is it the rejection? the walking away? the momentary denial? the everyday turning away? but i was, i am guilty of such things.

is that why i hate them now?

i think— all we want is is love. all we seek is love. we want to be loved. we want others to be loved. we want to love ourselves and we want others to love themselves. if we do not see evidence of any of these forms of love, we get distressed. or at least, i do.

i do not understand the lack of love. why can't someone love me? why can't someone love my best friend? why can't my friends love themselves? love has been the dominant theme this advent season. God loved. loves. us. we are only called to

1. love God
2. love ourselves
3. love our neighbors

so... we need to love God. We need to love others. but to understand love we must learn to love ourselves and accept the love of Christ. the unconditional love of Christ. the unimaginable love of Christ. this is the hardest thing to do. because we suck. people suck. but God still loves us. and cares about us. how? why? what the f—? but we have to accept it if we are going to experience it. to accept the gift. the most important gift. so that we might only begin to know Him, to know ourselves. to give hope to our seemingly unredeemable souls.

a Word

2006-12-15T10:08:00.000-05:00

who are we to constantly perceive our existence as potentially better or worse?

it is.

I AM

you talk about me, you talk, you talk.
you talk endlessly about me, about your Savior.

but you sit, you sit in crowded bars
and do nothing with your precious revelations.

un done.

2006-11-26T18:53:00.000-05:00

i used to be inspired. alive in my mind. now has that been lost? have i allowed people to bring me so low... to this point of grasping for return? i used to feel love and compassion. i used to feel. now my tears are of unexplained frustration. unwarranted unhappiness with the world. my depressive nature used to have focus— now it is so vague. so uninspired. just a heavy weight— not necessarily on but around— like walls or bars keeping me from where i want to be.

memory is release. dreaming is release. from the present? i do feel caged. and i can't even complain. my godfather is dying and i am crying b/c he hangs on every word and i am without love. he has a giant wound across his brow and i am unsatisfied with the yield of inspiration. this could be the last time we see him. this could be the last time we see anyone. so why don't we all embrace the preciousness of life? embrace what little inspiration is left and turn to look outwardly?

1.618

2006-10-19T20:09:00.000-05:00

i am used to travelling alone. faring forward- not looking ahead nor behind- only this transient moment is made known on the faces of my fellow travellers (who i do not wish to know), in the understanding of a poem which leads to tears, in this music which is valuable not only for it's sound or aesthetic pleasure but for how and why it was written- the depths of a soul and fervor of a mind.

such is this poem, this plea, this life-
we are seeking, seeking
moving and not seeing,
knowing and understanding this brief and significant journey-
not birth nor death
but only this moment.
this shaft of light where the dust is now settling,
all that was in darkness seems foolish now.
for here is the music of day, of light, of being alive:
faring forward- not from nor towards-
but only dying to ourselves
again and again
for this, is love.

the last disappointment

2006-10-13T01:02:00.000-05:00

i have nothing left to contribute
in a world of perpetual solitude
words are perpetual reformations
of the same letters
again and again
i write
with no meaning at all
despite that nothing is heard
there is only the passing of words
as a breath, a sigh
no more shall i
breathe
give in to the empty breeze
shadows of the heart

yes! i am a long way from home...

2006-10-12T00:17:00.000-05:00

the night sky is glowing
though it is pouring rain
what a sound, so soothing
so pleasantly reliable

candles are glowing
though i am alone
what mockery- the chance to be,
the choice not to be...

a clear note rings
along the horizon line
here in a somewhere
i am meant to be instead

the red tree is dying

2006-10-09T15:43:00.000-05:00

across fields of memory. to oceans of the mind.
the red tree is dying, the waters move to tide

heaving, sighing, crashing, foaming
the sea breathes in, subsides.
all is quiet now.

the stormy weather of our discontent-
our misintent- all come to failed resolve
all is quiet now.

breathing in now, like the sea
knowing the briefness of the pause,
that soon will be stirred up again
tormenting and unresolved.

the red tree is dying
though the sun is still warm
the world still moves in one direction-
steadfast, unyielding to that which can't keep up

the churning tide, a tumultuous mind
to move with the sea of thought is aching
unfulfilled, the unending cycle
the ebb and flow that never moves ahead
only back and forth, back and forth
heaving, sighing, crashing, foaming

the red tree is dying
and all is quiet now.

s-a-t-u-r-d-a-y

2006-10-07T22:30:00.000-05:00

i hate saturdays. yes, you can sleep in and do nothing all day- if you aren't working or if that obligatory weight doesn't fall upon your shoulders. i have to get up and do laundry, clean my car, clean my room... all these things you can't get done during the week are forced into one day of pressured productivity. saturdays feel weird, wrong. not relaxing and free like a sunday (until about 6 pm when you realize that you have to get up and start you work week again in a matter of hours...). it has an aura- a negative one. that soon after the luxury of hitting snooze on your alarm 27 times setttles in that obligation to get your lazy ass out of bed and do something with your day off.

unfortunately, it is only worsened when the weather is sunny and warm. if it is raining, there is felt no urgency to spend your day outside. when it is raining you are forced into doing the things that a. you have to do and b. that you want to do (like read or watch that netflix movie that's been sitting there for almost a week now). fantastic and so socially contradictory...

the only days to look forward to anymore are holidays. rainy ones.

emptiness

2006-10-06T00:29:00.000-05:00

the empty glass.
it is completely empty. there is not half this or half that.
my parched lips wish only for a taste of something full to quench the impassioned nature.
anything, now.
the sun hurts my eyes. this music strains my ears.
love hurts my eyes and my heart. now.
because of you.

*

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essesnce
And the descent
Falls the Shadow

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
not with a bang but a whimper.

[excerpts from T.S. Eliot's 'The Hollow Men']

ascent

2006-10-04T21:00:00.000-05:00

diagonal, above the loud earth (it is so small now)
things are happening , the but we cannot see them
they mean nothing now
as silently climbing- the only sign of life the shifting beams of sunlight
between patchy clouds– until we are above, above
layers of white, their billowing figures worshipping the morning sun,
the smooth blanket of the stratosphere falling below us now
glowing lakes interrupted by colorful grids of land
where rays of light fall to the earth
when we fall back to the earth we are consumed again
but here is the silent and the safe
so surreal, so simply realized
and soon forgotten
til we ascend again

from this moment til the dawn

2006-09-29T00:15:00.002-05:00

the light of all that is true. here in the darkness now. we have this epiphany, this glory until the morning sun exposes a new reality. was it there?

from this moment in the wee hours of the night, time not realized til the actualization of now, until that harsh beam of light wakes us from a dreaming sleep... we have these next few hours to hold on to that truth of the night, the events of what happened. the connection that was made. these are precious hours, disturbed only by sleep and the progression of time.

can we keep it? and how?

motets in the morning

2006-09-24T22:50:00.000-05:00

listening to motets in the early morning sunlight is an experience i can't do justice to describe, but i can prescribe it as a most enlightening way to begin your day. palestrina and a cup of tea makes for a coy smile before breakfast. this is happiness.

the death of a long dark night makes way for the birth of a second chance. new inspiration. reconciliation with light and life.

everyone has a someone else. we somehow choose to love the one just out of reach.

i know not the joys that lie ahead, nor the tragedies that i will have to face, but in this moment of music out of voice, of light out of sunlight, a shaft, a note, warmth, a song... i know only that i am in communion with Christ, my Lord.

the still point in the turning world

2006-09-20T23:20:00.000-05:00

i take delight in seeing words scrawled across a page– whether or not they yield coherence– as long as they prompt the assumption of mysterious prose. (such delight i must trade for the satisfying click of keys and legible type)

i am also growing increasingly fond of fall– as the air chills, and it becomes easier to breathe... just for a moment before the cold tightens the chest. the red trees, the orange leaves and the bluer sky- the scent of a season changing... the everything that comes with memory: beautiful and terrible as it is– a curse but so welcomed when you can subconsciously be reminded of happiness. the secret hideaway where no one can ever find you– the trapdoor to the crawlspace of memory (the only real secret passage i ever had): the mind. imagination. rather, memory of imagination– for, like childhood, it is gone now.

memory is why i am here now. for here is where the memories i wish to be my future live: the sea, the quaint houses, the windy streets lined with unnessary shops, the ships.

time past and time future,
what might have been and what has been
point to one end, which is always present

this is a place of my childhood imagination, where i always dreamed to be. this is where memory manifests, where reality is some twist of fate that has united my past with my present. where the future is a continued manifestation of all i have always wished it to be. here. now. all is always now.

i'm quite sure i'm in the wrong song

2006-08-23T21:33:00.000-05:00

my desk is empty except for my computer and streaks of dust previsouly hidden by pens, papers, and the usual clutter of feeling at home. my walls are empty, there's boxes stacked in the hall... everything is suddenly uncomfortable in this familiar place.

soon my boxes and pictures will be in different closets and on different walls. i'll add a new key to my key ring and have a mailbox and an electric bill with my name on it. i'll fall asleep to a different ceiling and different sounds.

i hate this part of it all because it doesn't feel right. there's something eerie and distant about the transition. i welcome the change, but i dread the barage of boxes up three flights of stairs. i fear the pause before the new place feels like home.

i despise the misery of this suspended state. but eventually, the change is worth it all.

the turning of the first leaf

2006-08-15T22:49:00.000-05:00

today i saw the first burst of orange in a sea of green leaves. i gasped at the abrupt shift in color. it's mid-august and still 80° and humid... are we ready for the change? the seasonal change is inevitable. whether you like it or not, those leaves are going from green to orange to brown in no time. whether we are afraid of it or not, a change occurs.

like seasons, love shows it's first signs abruptly, but will there be a change? 9 times out of 10, no. nothing will change. a sprig of oak leaves could stay orange forever while the rest of the tree stays the same. and this is because we are afraid. i used to wonder if we were afraid to give into love, afraid to let that feeling overtake us and change us.

it's mid-august and already the first chilly breeze has blown off the ocean. i enjoy summer but i can't wait for the fall. i hate the moments between but relish the anticipation, like love. but do we dread the reality? the few hours of marked bliss before utter agony sets in. this is the reality of love. and perhaps life in general.

there isn't a cloud in the sky and the infinite blue is daunting. perfection rests even in the smell of low tide.

something has got to give. we fear change yet things have already changed. even since yesterday. even since the turning of the first leaf. even since the last thing you said.

i love this time of day. i love this place, this moment. and i'm not afraid to love anymore.

ode to lunching in a small town

2006-08-14T21:20:00.000-05:00

after an unusually tumultuous lunch today, i decided this lifestyle of venturing into a world of a small town everyday deserves tribute.

used to seeking solitude, this was a day for being bold and I seated myself right in the center of everything: the post office, the banks, the boutiques, and an exceptionally noisy parade of large utility trucks, soccer moms piloting vehicles of rivaled size, and balding men in Lexuses (which- pahleez- if it where an aston martin -or had more hair- i might be remotely impressed with this deliberate peacocking).

I made this brave attempt at an intellectually stimulating, low-calorie, public performance on perhaps the windiest day of the year. so what really happened was a wasted effort of appearing apprised of current events as i spent a divided effort between trying to read my newspaper- which would have served better amast- and making a similarly embarassing attempt to carefully consume my veggie wrap- which ended in a disatrous explosion of red peppers and onions into my lap of crumpled newsprint.

Next time I shall forego the triumph in bravery and settle for the quiet greenery of the park, where the creepy old man will watch my calculated slices into a tomato and mozzarella salad and so rudely intrude on the delight to my taste buds with his wheezy puffs on a cheap smelling cigarette. park benches are lonely islands which offer no privacy- only observed solitude.

perhaps in public we are more apt to disappear into the choas as we pen our thoughts- a parade of tumultuous words- under the shade of a shared tree.

the open window lets the rain in

2006-08-07T00:16:00.000-05:00

i am a chameleon, isn't everyone in some way? chameleons don't change their color based soley on the color or texture of their surroundings. in fact, the change is made according to mood, light and temperature. but doesn't each chameleon have a true color? would that one true color be brought out by the most favorable of conditions?

i believe so. and i believe that in our ambiguous chameleon-human condition, our true colors are brought out best by only our most truely favored "conditions".

63°. clear. waxing gibbous. waxing poetic. conditions are favorable, indeed.

saturday. 6:42 pm. one moment in that minute.

2006-08-05T22:13:00.000-05:00

every person on this earth has a different approach to life. different personalities, motives, objectives, likes, dislikes, opinions, ideas, hopes, habits, expectations, disappointments, memories, realities ... it's a wonder anyone can get along, can connect. a moment two people's souls can touch through our monstrous barriers of communication is like the sun breaking through the trees. the late day beams inbetween for a brief moment is a flicker of truth. this music, this ray of light in your eyes for this passing second is real and something happens. one moment of one day of many meaningless days: something real, something true takes place, and there is hope.

a welcomed descent

2006-07-25T22:57:00.000-05:00

from fall into winter, the warm shades of orange fade to gray and white, deep into the cruelty of the cold new year. falling in love with the wrong person is an equally welcomed descent– the sweetest decline– from the first surge of feeling to the miserable winter of a cold heart. when you choose to invest your love in a futile prospect, it is like choosing to be infected with a terminal illness. but this cancer is benign. it is a dead mass anchored to a heart which fears emptiness, and it cannot give birth to anything, even the richness of misery when it is unjustified.

make haste, oh grand scheme of life. wipe the clouds from this starless night and renew the deep hues of autumn so we can gracefully descend once again.

the awkward grasp for the pen

2006-07-18T22:15:00.000-05:00

it's after midnight again. it's another night of restlessness and as my head hits the pillow thoughts come alive. i groan, roll over and click my bedside light on. now for the pen. without leaving the comfort of my twisted sheets, i reach precariously for the only pen in sight. the essence of pen to paper must be kept alive, for there will always be time for blogs later.

like now.

so what were these revelations so worthy of postponing the attempt at sleep?

#1: the sobering realization that i no longer believe in love. (just for me- i am sure you have a wonderful "in-love life" – there's a difference between love and 'in-love', you know) but i just don't believe i will ever love again (or be loved for that matter). not at least in the way i have loved. it's like when you go long enough without feeling something, you forget what it felt like and in forgetting, you dismiss it as a possibility. i have forgotten what it feels like to be in love, and i have only seen it's dark side for the past several years. i suppose that since i cannot comprehend it's re-appearance, when it does emerge i will cherish it, for i have never known the love i will someday experience.

#2: sometimes when you set out looking for something, you find yourself instead

#3: bodies are physical traps for shining souls if only we could see beyond the darkness of appearances

#4: will our small actions change anything at all? such as an attempt to make a connection with someone that would otherwise never have been made. does this affect the pull of the universe– to extend communication to those who are far away, to those who least expect it? what is destiny and what is just a failed scientific experiment? mixing worlds by choice, not default.

i'm nuts. for ever turning the light back on. but then again, even stars look blurry in the heat.

the perfect summer evening

2006-07-09T23:14:00.000-05:00

when the air is thick and warm, but with the stir of a fresh breeze is brought the hint of chill. the moon hangs full and pink... pink? is it the sun setting in La Jolla? golden waves are rolling in there now, as the breeze is rolling through the east, here, clueing us in to what we have missed as we step out onto the pavement, realizing we'd lost this perfect summer evening. but in your eyes the promise of many perfect summer evenings to come rose, full as the moon.

a suggestion of permanence

2006-06-27T07:28:00.000-05:00

it's a strange phenomena to live in someone's home. when guest-hood takes on a more permanent life, and it isn't long before you find yourself cleaning hard-to-reach places and organzing the tupperware drawer.

i write this as i am comfortably enjoying breakfast at someone else's table in someone's else's house. i am babysitting the house, the 2 dogs and the 2 goats for the week, and am marvelling at the sense of ownership i feel over the pile of clean dishes in the sink and the coffee mug with little airplanes on it that i have used every day. the cluttered master bedroom is now my domain, my smell on the sheets, my toiletries lined up next to the sink, my books piled at the top of the stack.

what's even stranger about this whole thing is that when i go "home" at the end of the week i am going back to someone else's home. a home in which i have lived for 7 months, and one where "comfort" has gone out the window. (the irony is killing me) there's awkward-guest-mode, then there's comfortable guest mode, then there's just comfortable, then there's part-of-the-family. i have achieved this upper-eschelon of live-in-hood, but i am still cleaning unrest out of my fingernails.

as i lay in someone else's bed last night and listened to someone else's crickets chirping outside someone else's window, I went back in time. i remembered how the locusts sounded at my house growing up, through my open window. the surge and lull of their song was so soothing, and i was so imaginative then. that was my home.

the only thing retaining permanence is memories. they are always there, always packaged with a certain feeling. they don't go away, you can't change them, and no one can take them from you. my memories can never be someone else's.

our God almighty

2006-06-03T21:39:00.000-05:00

lighting cuts the heat of a thick night. then rain released drenches vision- causing near blindness on the dark highway. fear ensues for a brief moment before the shuffle of music delivers the first notes of my favorite praise song. i crank the volume to drown the noise of the thunder. lightning. hydroplane. lightning again. holy holy is our God almighty and fear is gone. joy is flowing faster than the water off my windshield. i raise my hands to the roof of my car singing at the top of my voice. my God is in the thunder and the rain, my God is a God who speaks to me in a whisper, whose assurance is breathed in silence. my God is mighty, and we raise our hands for a reason.

effects of weather

2006-05-19T21:12:00.000-05:00

it is strange how when one gets used the same pattern of weather for a week's time, one's attitude surpasses aggravation into apathy and then hopelessness. you give up. then the sun comes out for one single and surreal day, and you want to bask in it but you don't believe it is real. because the next morning, even before you open your eyes, through the open window you hear the all too familiar sound. so familiar it doesnt phase you. the only thought that crosses your mind is that you will need to change your shoe plan- no heels today.

then suddenly the voice of the thunder awakens a new motivation today will be different. but it isn't and you wonder how you will deal with tomorrow if there is sun. will it be real? it hurts your eyes, it's hot. if it would just rain again than you would know what to expect. traffic and flooding and puddles and mess. but if's the mess that you know now, and since weather has so accutely affected you for so many days in a row, it is impossible to imagine it not having such a precise effect on your attitude for many days to come.

the day after rain

2006-05-17T21:32:00.000-05:00

historical. paramount. aggravation at it's best. worst. whatever you want to call it and a day after rain i cried. for the first time since godknowswhen. but it all revolved around traffic and politics and dyslexia. which, thank god, i don't officially have the diagnosis. otherwise the goings on of the day would have proved inexcusable. instead, they were minorly offensive + coming to the realization that i have a political fight to uphold + waiting on the onramp to the highway for 20 minutes = tears.

i am being somewhat vague (which should come as a shock) but each small frustration of the day surmounted to a tense jaw and a release of salty tears of which i have not had in ages. what a weird phenomenon. crying. so humbling and so relaxing and so pathetic but so needed. you're covering your face from the car next to you but you're embracing the emotional undertones of the music on your stereo and you let go. it's letting go and admitting defeat to a world of stresses. a world flooded with them in this case. literally. it's a chaotic nightmare- imagine a category 4 hurricane. done for. does god have a message for new england this time? i am sure he does but i didnt think he'd even try to get it across. people here have their heads where the sun dont shine. good luck getting anything through except stock prices and mercedes models.

enough on that. the day warranted wine and obscessive blogging. i brace myself for what lies ahead.

tomorrow's forecast: thunderstorms.

incessance

2006-05-13T22:00:00.000-05:00

i am listening to the rain. still. still moving in downwards diagonal drumming on rooftops and roads. the depressing drip and drizzle, a steady down-beat defeating the pulse of life. as standing in a crowd surrounded by those you love but connection is overwhelming and breeds contemplation: negative. you retreat inside- through wet clothes, through tough skin and the calouses on your heart, you move deep inside until the walls are thick and your eyes are heavy with boredom and reasoning with it all.

i can only now be silent and be still. i can only listen to the clack clack of rain as it falls as the downpour of words that beat upon my heart.

rain delay

2006-05-02T16:33:00.000-05:00

it’s a grey rainy day, you join the parade
of chimeras traveling the wet highway.
their misty capes of rain
ghostly and billowing
from the wheels of these modern chariots
shrouding sight
sleek with speed
as you try to see, to piece together this reality
in the s u p e r n a t u r a l i t y
of
  cars
      in
        the rain.

the unexplained science of another

2006-05-01T22:48:00.000-05:00

chemical reactions across the board but all so different so mixed up in their own delirious concoction and where is the control group?

when you meet and fall in love with a complete stranger– man or woman– you have fallen for outer ghost of their own reality. you are drawn in by the outward answers of superficial questions, the leaks of light from the inner core that cannot possibly define a soul but can give a glimpse that leaves the assumption in favor of a grand portrait.

the control group is our own reality, our own core, and our interaction with those of others.

then there is the science of disection and taking it to the next level. the familiar and the meticulous undertaking of getting to that core. it's delectably frustrating and warrants the unexpected and the uninhibited response. it is all so real and yet so formulaic, so pursuant of something we are hoping to find rather that delighted and surprised at what is there. what cannot be changed or excused. what is beautifully present and eternally that which we must love for what it is.

there is no control group. only the continuous education of another. another being, another existence. for that which it is. not to be compared to any other.

the point of intersection

2006-04-28T20:22:00.000-05:00

when two universes run parallel, at one poignant and perfect moment they collide in a simple interaction, an intesection of you and me and this time there's nothing in between and here we are. there it is. all is always now. there is no such thing as coincidence. just the dipping in and out of these universes in occasional touch and go kisses and the fleeting recognition of it all.

my vagueness is overwhelming, but at this point (so to speak) it's the thrill of the words, the roll of the tongue, the clicking of keys, the inherent rhyme... don't fault me for this. i'm a prosiac.

the texture of the sky

2006-04-23T14:21:00.000-05:00

today the sky was eerily gray and textured, which i found to be somehow beautiful. as i drove north on I-93, where they are doing many road repairs, i approached the rough, grooved pavement. the roar of the vibration shook me to the realization that the texture of the sky could best be described as that of grooved pavement. between the two surfaces of earth and sky i felt i was moving along two parallel universes. like music and memory– two very separate entities with their own purposes– but together achieving a synergistic value that totally obliterates the need for drug use. the power of memory and dreams and the confusion of reality with the unconscious mind is a trip in itself that cannot be replicated by any other means.

so i crawled out from under my blanket of grooved stratosphere into the comfort of a home that is not mine, put on my new favorite song and indulged in favorite foods. it is raining now and the wet streets do not beckon. i am alive and it is the simple moments that are the most perfect reminder of that.

mercurial emotions: on the rise

2006-04-13T21:58:00.000-05:00

i finally am reconnecting with that which has been somehow absent and evasive: emotion. I have experienced frustration, exhaustion, confusion, and anxiety. These should fall under a new category that is yet to be named, but should reflect the lack of depth such feelings possess, and the negativity they impart.

recently i have regained sensitivity to the powerful and been moved by the subtle and the deeply spirtual. these encounters have been increasingly frequent, even to the point of tears which i so rarely let flow, and i must question the why.

is it because i have come closer to God? it is like love in that if you choose to love someone each day, if you put love into practice, that soon emotions will ensue as a waterfall to dry rocks? patience and perseverance, when serving God, never goes unrewarded. a choice of devotion, of putting an effort into talking to God and seeking His words, of listening in the silence of waiting and hoping- will soon burst forth in a wave of emotion, of truly being in love with Christ.

i believe such patience and perseverance through the apathy, the aggravating and the weariness of life's trials will be rewarded with a renewal of hope, a depth of feeling and a love for the truly sacred. this i have found for a moment and will cherish it.

the universal loss of 5 minutes

2006-04-09T22:19:00.000-05:00

my cellphone clatters to the floor, followed by the thunk a water bottle and then the clash of keys against the cold linoleum. I'm running late again. somehow i am gathering my things at 9:36, i rush out the door after collecting my trail of clumsy left-behinds and by the time i make the 30 foot trek to my frosted vehicle, the clock reads 9:47. not possible.

somewhere in the universe 5 minutes is stolen. some cosmic force swoops down and snatches it from my grip countless times each day. hence, i am always, without fail, 5 minutes late. it's a true injustice and completely unfair to already scatter brained types such as myself. cut me a break. i should be granted 5 minutes in all fairness. the math just doesn't add up. there must be a scientific explaination for this, but really i suppose time just isn't on my side. it holds a grudge.

more thoughts on the rolling sea

2006-04-05T10:52:00.000-05:00

it is in the interim periods that life evolves- that inspiration lays dormant until the climax of many things: the unexpected, the long-awaited and the eagerly hoped for. Once the sea breathes deeper: when relationships surge and others crash to the shore... it is the rising pulse that inspires, and the aftermath that gets it down in writing- the poem of the calm before the next wave of emotion that will leave you exhausted and breathless as you surface from the blow.

when is the interim? you can never see it until you look back and realize there was a pause. the pause is boredom and anxiety, the pause that is unrealized or appreciated until you are being spun upside down by a wave of drama or confusion that has knocked you from behind, off your feet. Your mouth is full of salt water and it's a moment before you realize what's going on, and it isn't until you can breathe again that you figure out what happened. it's in the half-spin that you realize your in trouble, and getting out ain't gonna be pretty.

getting out is never pretty, especially when you're taken by surprise. or are you? if you're swimming in the ocean, there's gonna be waves.

§

2006-04-03T14:47:00.000-05:00

the divorce of a love, a job, a guilty pleasure, a punishment fullfilled and a promise renewed... all so gradual and peaceable. life is like the endless rolling sea: calm and distressed

deep inside

2006-04-02T20:37:00.000-05:00

there's something to be said about descending to deeper levels of relationship. with a piece of music, a work of art or the soul of a person: each is to be treated with a delicate sense of understanding. there is of course the initial attraction- to the tune, the subject or the personality. if one is invited by desire beyond this point, than the next level must be breached with a sense of curiosity, a devotion to discovery and carefree open-mindedness. getting to know something is a process and a commitment.

there are some pieces of music that i was raptured with at first listen, then as you spend time with it and begin to really hear the notes and understand the composition, the love for the piece grows and is deepened.

the same is true with art. i have had countless experiences with a work of art where i was ready to write it off b/c i hadn't taken the devoted the effort to researching the artist, the techniques and the motives behind the piece. once i understood why certain brush strokes or colors were used, or what the artist intended, i had a whole new appreciation and relationship with that work of art.

a talented artist once answered the age old question in a most believable way: "art is defined by intention". i carry the same truth into the light of relationships. intention.

why are you spending time with someone, what are you really after and are you willing to make the effort to get to know that person, to devote understanding and open-mindedness to their person, to their soul. you cannot write someone off until you give them this chance. and you cannot allow yourself to be sized up without the same depth of intention.

how to slice strawberries

2006-03-31T19:04:00.000-05:00

today I learned how to properly slice a strawberry. I made neat little piles of wedged red slivers, and as my blade slid through the seeded skin, I realized that I hate the texture of strawberries. I hate how the lines of seeds LOOK. i stared at the neat rows of hideous seeds and cringed, then recalling the multitude of textures i hate.

from closely notched tree bark to the webbing of cracked desert sands i shutter to bring up images of certain textures that make my skin crawl. it has nothing to do with touch, but is merely a horrific torture to see. it's like when you drive past a car accident: you don't want to look b/c you know it would be gorey and horrific, but at the same time you cannot avert your eyes. the same can be said of a list of textures i hate.

someday i plan on taking pictures of all of them and then you can see it from my perspective

wading the murky mire

2006-03-13T10:55:00.000-05:00

and if for just awhile the world could stop, the endless sifting through papers and legal matters, financial obligations and the pressure of a working life... if it could all be incinerated in a moment of brilliant cleansing.

and it did for 16 days the reality of piles of bills, tax forms and court papers evaporated into a beautiful existence on another continent: Africa. where one descends Maslow's pyramid to discover that the most important thing here is survival. and between the struggle to eat and the fight against a slew of diseases is a joy beyond understanding: a joy rooted in knowing Jesus Christ.

when life is so simple, when what you need is anything and everything, He IS your everything, He IS all you need.

why when our lives are so complicated and muddled with such trivial issues of tax percentages, credit cards bills and finding the "perfect job" and the right outfit to wear, do we feel God isn't necessary? is our tangled involvement with paperwork and superficial desires so above the need for a higher power? for deliverance from the mire of obligation and financial assessment?

i cannot describe the dread at leaving a place where i was afraid to walk the streets, after breathing dust and smelling burning garbage for 2 weeks to return to mire of paper and battles against money, bills and the legal system. not that i am ungarteful for the life i have been born into. i am so thankful to have had food on the table 3 times a day for 24 years, to have always had a roof over my head (and a nice one at that) and to always have clothes on my back, in-style or not. but with blessing comes responsibility: a responsibilty to manage the money and blessings properly, and the responsibility to serve and bless others who are not so fortunate. and for that i did not want to leave a joyful people and an opportunity to make a difference somehow.

the people of Kenya seek deliverance from acute poverty, from terminal disease, and from criminal brutality. all they want is a chance at a better life. their faith in God serves as their deliverance, and for the moment it is enough for them. as i gazed across a sea of tattered clothes and dusty, tired feet- all i noticed was the smiling faces as these precious children sang their praises to God. these people will surely be first in the kingdom of heaven.

we, too, can seek deliverance from God. i came to realize shortly after returning that my dread of this messy reality could be qualmed by giving it up to God. He is bigger than famine and He is far bigger than bills and taxes. He is a deilverer for all people of all nations: so why do the nations who have the least, sing the most praise? And why do we, who God has blessed in abundance, ignore the fact that He is our provider?

to shine as stars

2005-12-15T11:36:00.000-05:00

And yet again, I find myself hit head on with a very humbling experience.

I have been called to be grateful, to watch my words against my neighbor, even the person i dislike the most, and to praise God always. I have been guilty of practicing none of these qualities as of late, and I am ashamed.

I want share the following passage with you because it is something we all need to hear and take to heart. I have been discouraged b/c of where I am at, where I am and where I am- at present- NOT going. What is life for? It is all futile if lived in vain ambition, if it is not to serve an eternal purpose.

With Christmas as the only upcoming certainty in my future, this piece of Phillipians 2 resonated with me. What a powerful portrait of He who humbled himself in the most raw and horrific way possible.

If you words are pure and your way is blameless, let this be a simple reminder of the miracle of Christ coming to earth.

"If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.

Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life—in order that I may boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor for nothing. "

I soberly hang my head, but i rejoice within.

perpetuity

2005-12-01T12:41:00.000-05:00

i am alone. alot. this comes from working alone (well, with my boss but he either disappears for hours on end or, if he is actually here, sits in his office cranking out subpar design) and from living at a quite a distance from all my friends.

last night as i was driving to alpha, the dark rainy road seemed especially devoid of other cars, and even when there was scattered traffic, even at the arrival of the stream of white lights that is rush hour... i felt i was the only person in the world. the only alive, real, existing person. it was an oddly comfortin feling for amoment- not lonely or depressive. i have gotten so used to the company of myself and myself alone, all else seems obtrusive and taxing.

i have decided though, that as much as i value the company of a select few, being alone with one self is a beautiful. you can take that self with you anywhere, over time. if you arent bored with who you are, or limited in the creativity of your imagination or simple amusements conjured by necessity... than you are all set for wherever life takes you or whatever it deals you.

all i need is a bigger music collection and the open road is mine.

more providentials and some funny things

2005-11-30T00:40:00.000-05:00

So, after a longer-than-anticiapted weekend it's back to the reality that is new hampshire. chicago is flat, dull and is plagued by sporadic weather patterns. there are far too many strip malls. i am glad i did not move there (aside from the sweet-as job factor). however, there were good things and they are pictured here:

thankfulnesses:

my christmas tree! [my brother put a million lights on]

funny things:

providentials:

1. due to the inconvenience of having my flight cancelled monday (AFTER i was dropped off at the airport), i got to stay an extra night at home, beat kathy cathey in boggle one more time, sit in the economy plus section of the airplane, and not have to be at work til 1 on tuesday.

2. i returned to nh to realize that it is now officially winter. snow patches on the ground, the salty film on cars, frosty breath and the dull brown and grey tones that neutralize the scenery. it is also the perfect season for jazz.

3. when i finally got home, i was greeted by 2 adorable children who were overly excited to see me. priceless. i then proceeded to go to my room and reacquaint myself with my baby (my new 'puter), only to find that in my absense a crayon had been left on my desk, and not just any crayon- a cerulean crayon. this is providential b/c cerualean is my absolute favorite crayon color in the whole world. what are the odds?

busiest travel day of the year : 7:11 a.m.

2005-11-23T17:11:00.000-05:00

providential occurances:

1. waking up at 5:33 a.m.– 3 minutes you are supposed to be leaving for the airport
2. being alone on the road except for the snow
3. securing one of the last parking spots and having the shuttle pull up as you are getting out of your car and therefore
4. making your flight (even though it is the farthest gate down the terminal)
5. getting safely home before the madness

injustices:

1. 5:33 a.m.
2. trying to bring one's cup of coffee through security. (i woudnt recommend this)
3. having your gate be the last one in the terminal
4. the deceit of having lines of people "board the plane", then getting on the jetway and realizing that's where they all still are
5. coach. and having 2 empty rows in front of you b/c it's "economy class" and "a different rate" according to our prestigious flight attendant/steward man.
6. sitting in the middle seat. when you have a pulled back muscle. and having your elbow getting chummy with the elbow of the man next to you.

it's good to be home.

photographic memory

2005-11-22T00:29:00.000-05:00

to you, this picture probably looks like a very pretty place. that is because you have the distinct privilege of not knowing where it is, and not having any physical or emotional associations with it what so ever.

aren't you lucky.

this is outside of where i work. do not be deceived: one is not to judge a work environment [souly] for it's view. it just fascinates me that 2 people can look at the same photo, and one can be completely unaffected while the other is sent reeling into waves of memory. [unfortunetely in this case, not the best ones ever]

i will say– in defense of this lovely scene– that this picture for me represents freedom i long for. i stare out the big paned window at that sunlit field fighting the urge to just run out the door and into the glowing grass. due to circumstances including that of a closed-minded neighbor, i have yet to accomlish such a zealous feat.

the best pictures are the ones that speak a thousand words only to the soul who knows them.

aftermath

2005-11-20T15:45:00.000-05:00

sometimes there are no words left.

to be alone deep in thought is often the best remedy for an anxious heart.

sweetest decline

2005-11-17T00:13:00.000-05:00

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas

this is how the moon looked tonight. well, sort of. i took this photo while driving (i like to live dangerously) so it's sub-par.

nothing like a blustery november day when you can roll down your windows and let the balmy breeze whip your hair around. smells of warm air, firesmoke and bubble gum. the half-hidden moon between low hanging orange clouds.

who says november isn't gorgeous. this was just the end of my day. the beginning was just as rewarding. thick with a fog that wasn't eerie like the dark and warm-y weather i welcomed through an open door this afternoon. no, it was beautiful and restored a peace with nature. glorifying the stately trees still retaining their autumn diginity, not yet weatherbeaten and tired. this noted subtlety provided encouragement as i brace for the descent. a bittersweet shift into winter. the anticipation of snow and holidays and being curled up with hot chocolate are visions which fade into the daunting l e n g t h of coldness. dreary and gray.

autumn is our season champion, winter has it's triumphant moments... but let's not forget the simply delightful , delightfully simple, days along the way.

voodoo lady

2005-10-27T13:20:00.000-05:00

"i was thirsty for everything
but water wasn't my style
guess we might have to teach me something
guess we might have to show me how"

it's a tricky thing, realizing your plans might fail. that where you are might not be a beginning but an end. when you stop asking "where am i going?" and start to wonder "where am i and what am i doing here?".

sometimes the required change isn't in the scenery itself but the eyes that view it. this, my friends, is the hardest battle to face. it's easy to pick up and go- to run- to be free and up against new things. but the scariest scenario is standing still and facing your current position in life, the things you have come to know the best, but now are your worst enemy.

"relax and let your ears hear this beautiful song
that's hidin' underneath the sound"

hey jupiter

2005-10-26T23:57:00.000-05:00

i have learned that when confronted with the consequences of being a victim of someone else's evil, we have a choice. there is the option to be angry, bitter, resentful. we can also choose not to let such things destroy us. but why is there a grotesque obscession with being self-destructive? we would rather cling to depression, embrace our sorrow and reject any form of hope. why is this, when what we long for is happiness and peace? why is masochism a more viable route than the road to repair?

thunder entered her

2005-10-13T12:28:00.000-05:00

Arvo: writer of music that is beyond human comprehension, Part Deux:

:: magnificat :: revelations ::

such is the story of Mary. she keeps to herself the greatest mystery of all time: the Virgin birth. she was the first to receive the Holy Spirit in the physical sense, and in the most powerful & consuming way possible. this was no tongue of flame, but the seed of life— and not just any life... the body of Christ Himself.

i don't think that this idea has ever been explored— for who could dare?

the only other (i know of yet) to explore the incarnation in written word was St. Ephren:

"Thunder entered her and made no sound;
there entered the Shepherd of all;
and in her He became the Lamb, bleating as He comes forth"

this text was explored by Tavener in his composition "Thunder entered Her" but neither have sucessfully captured the power of such an occurance. well, i am now seeking to, because i want to understand. (if only i were a poet or a composer!)

we are familiar with the story of the Annunciation. it has been depicted in all unique and ubiquitous ways. the Magnificat has been sung by children in Christmas pageants and by an Estonian chorale, and it has been beautiful (to say the least). but there is an event that must have occurred between these two happenings, and that is time when the Holy Spirit CAME UPON Mary and planted the seed of the Christ child into her womb.

I am not approaching this as a sexual experience, for it would have been far beyond that. i have felt the intense aching in my womb as i hold a child in my arms, i have been sent reeling into the realm of orgasm, and i have felt the divine power of the Holy Spirit come upon me and fill me with his presence. None of these physical experiences can be accurately represented with words— try rolling all three into one & multiplying the power to an intensity you can't imagine.

Mary undoubtably had one of the most incredible & AWESOME (in the truest sense of the word) spiritual encounters— one that no man will ever begin to understand— and it was made physical WITHIN her.

there could not have been just a simple, emotionless "poof" and she was suddenly pregnant with Jesus. It did not just "happen" and then one day she noticed her belly was growing.

oh no– there was an event, an event so mystical and uncomprehendable that it has never been justly spoken of in the words of men. and it was hers.

no one will ever, can ever, know her ecstacy, her fear, her amazement, her pleasure. I would have written a Magnificat, too.

criss-crossed in a parallel universe

2005-10-06T11:26:00.000-05:00

chills: there is something beautiful in the parallel universes of music and movement. it's a brilliant moment when you cue up the music with your mood, surroundings, etc. if executed at the right time in appropriation with the environment, you have reached synergistic perfection.

chills: when randomly, mistakingly, universes criss-cross: music with mimicking movement, events with pre-meditated thoughts or dreams, dreams with reality or with another dream.

chills.

as i lazily gazed into the morning mirror and recalled the events of last nights perplexing dreams, images, encounters in an enchanted sleep world.. running parallel to waking reality.. or does it? [my favorite is getting the 2 worlds confused... thrilling, really.]

i have had the same dreams repeated, continued, viewed from within another dream... and last night as i dreamt a recurring dream and interacted with a long, lost friend i was brought to wonder... did that same friend dream of me [but from her perspective]? why is there recurrence in dreams so consistently and so powerfully?

the subconscious is a scary place. dreams are the only window through which we can view that enigmatic world. 80 percent of our dreams are generated based on events of the day... do they run parallel? people are awake while others are dreaming. are dreams outside of time? some say dreams occur in real time. i would have to argue against that.

some nights i have shared similar if not the same dreams with others. criss-crossing in dreamlandscape... how often does this happen when we dont know it? am i the faceless person in someone else's dream?

am i running parallel to another's reality? am i the movement cued to a music i cannot hear? strange to think what is floating above the real and waking world, what chooses to run parallel, what chooses to descend and entangle...

open your minds

§

2005-09-26T17:03:00.000-05:00

the most beautiful thing on a rainy day?

leaves of a silver oak tree teased by a breeze... [on cue with Berliner Messe]

do not call it fixity

2005-09-26T10:46:00.000-05:00

so. i made a decision. [i think.]

i have felt so close to God and i was waiting for a moment of revelation but instead i was given gradual peace and possibility which overrode potential. i was sure. til now. suddenly i am sent reeling back to a realm of questions. did i do the right thing?

someone told me that if you are trusting God, no matter what decision you make He'll bless it. i know He will. but He is so weird, and so cool, so mysterious and so... the best. i am excited to see what happens because i have chosen here, but then again, we should all always be excited for what God is going to do with our lives. if we let Him.

still waiting on convergence and lightness of being. yowser.

laudamus

2005-09-23T13:08:00.000-05:00

convergence...

where the dance is— the still point
where God reveals himself
as he does through music:

:: te deum ::

and it fills you. laying on the cold concrete of a cathedral floor.

who knew you'd go back in time: the place you could never find, to get outside of the here and now. but somehow there exists the overwhelming gift of peace amidst the forgotten joys of life and the ever-strain of never-ending days towards.. where?

and that, we do not know. but can only hope an answer is near, as in prayer we commit to surrender and possession of all to the one on High: Almighty God. He who is often forgotten to be glorious. astouding.

we are reminded by the Estonian choir... Arvo, we thank your dedication to the most beautiful piece of written music: Te Deum. God-breathed, as Scripture— but equally timeless and resonant and all things beyond human comprehension. This music is a portal to God.

§

2005-09-20T08:42:00.000-05:00

as there is not a cloud in the clear blue sky,
so i have not a thought, nor a word
just a sigh

and after all this as i was nearing home, i passed a single pear- untouched- in the middle of the road. it stood upright, basking in the last rays of the sun. and i was amazed. surreal encounter #3

glosoli

2005-09-19T09:46:00.000-05:00

i think that in icelandic, the word "glosoli" means "the answer to everything". after yesterday, i'm convinced of it.

from... the early fog of sunday morning... so thick that i could have been anywhere: the dark and decaying piers interrupting the glassy water, the sand along the bay reflecting pools of water in such a way they could have been snow... it could have been anywhere but the road to boston, it could have been iceland (i wish).

in-between... a more heavenly voice: the anglican mass. the music of the liturgy, the overwhemling smell of incense, the chilling power of God and the tall church walls. (thus fullfilling my first ever church of the advent sunday experience)

an artist recently told me that where there is convergence, that is where we find God. i couldn't agree more. neither could flannery o'connor ("everything that rises must converge") or t.s. eliot (more on him and the liturgy to come...). it is all coming together now. slowly, inevitably. and i have to decide between 2 very separate ways, but where they converge: that's where i am supposed to be.

to... alone on the night highway, the full-moon sky taunting me with a false sense of clarity about the world, sigur ros reassuring me that there is still something beautiful to it all.

§

2005-09-16T11:44:00.000-05:00

i wish my dreams played out as beautifully as my imagination...

but mine are absurd, taunting and nightmarish. except for last night when i dreamt about a really large picture book of an imaginary country that was a cross between greenland and iceland and started with an "H". glorious. but... a dream.

ASA & more on why i love the bass guitar

2005-09-15T08:38:00.000-05:00

apparently my original post about bass guitar wasn't quite enough. so... here's going deeper:

bass is... ok, amazing. (gotta start somewhere) i think a good bass line, though so often unnoticed, is the crucial element. if you can connect to the bass line, it's the portal to the center of the song.

the bass can be melodic and when it is, there's igasms. life forces. those who do not realize it are just riding the rhythm and not knowing why or how. those of us who do know... well, it's just double the ecstacy.

it is

2005-09-13T23:23:00.000-05:00

life sucks. but God is good.

it is amazing how such trivial things can cloud our vision of what is eternally significant.

the silver lining? ... knowing the difference.

love to love to love

2005-09-08T16:30:00.000-05:00

i love when you fall in love but you don't even realize it and then one day you're like "oh my gosh" and you are overwhelmed for a moment here and there throughout that day and it feels so good and then you wake up the next day and you are like "what was i thinking?" but whatever still lingers makes you smile.

me and a bass guitar

2005-09-07T00:59:00.000-05:00

love the bass guitar. i feel as thought i have a special connection with bass guitars and bass players. i have always had a strange yet consistent attraction to them.

i went through a phase in h.s. where i learned to play guitar, and some random goth girl let me take home her bass to try out. that was cool. i gave it up shortly after.

most people forget the importance of the bass guitar. a song without a bass line sounds like marbles rolling around in a metal box.

a base line somehow completes, gives rhythm and a reason to move... solidifies depth... saturates

favorite baselines i have come across so far:

1. tori amos: to venus and back: juarez ... but also pretty much that whole album has kick ass bass action
2. our lady peace: happiness is... : thief
3. anything paul mcartney touched b/c he was pretty much the best bass player ever if you think about it
4. caspian: loft

please inform me of any others i have forgotten or have yet to hear. i am eager.

the end is near

2005-09-06T13:53:00.000-05:00

friday afternoon i was ready to call it quits and stand on the street corner holding my cardboard sign reading "the end is near" and hoping my friends would be kind enough to supply me with booze in paper bags. after paying $3.19 per gallon for gas (i know it's worse elsewhere) and sitting in weekend traffic, the scenes of chaos and catastrophe from the news flashing though my mind, this seemed like the best option.

then i realized something sad but true: it's going to get worse before it all goes down. and we have no idea the potential of natural disasters. tropical storms and tsunamis are just the beginning. erosion will eventually swallow cape cod and the islands, a mega-tsunami will destroy the entire eastern seaboard, a huge earthquake will drop california into the pacific, the midwest will touch the ocean, terrorists will take over, and i'll move to canada and wait for the dawn of the second ice age to come.

by then gas will probably cost like $10 per gallon.

katrinated

2005-09-02T01:08:00.000-05:00

"in light of recent tragedies..." i hate to sound cold or cruel, but i am angered by this whole katrina thing. yes, it is plausible that "this is our tsunami", but we americans were warned, people were given ample opportunity to leave a city that was warned of a 20 ft storm surge. the only real tragedy here is the loss of those who were powerless to evacuate, and the loss of cities and communites. the loss of homes and lives of those who weren't deserving of it.

i can't help but feel outraged at those who refused to leave, that are now mutinizing against their rescuers, who begrudge their long-awaited help and who pillage goods. what a surreal state of mind to be in, but come on, you were never invincible to begin with, so why did you stay and try to beat the odds?

the only people i truly pity are those such as the elderly woman- left dead in her wheelchair, pushed up against the wall with a blanket over her. that is tragedy.

inspired again [?]

2005-08-25T00:33:00.000-05:00

life cycles back. it's the pull between wanting to just pick up and start all over again, or be inspired now. today it rained and i chose to be inspired, to create, to be owned by something other than my dark thoughts for a change. just what the doctor ordered.

surreality

2005-08-22T00:05:00.000-05:00

maybe dali was right in his depictions of a withered and puzzling world.

all is surreal. the strange moments i encounter are multiplying. in surreal lighting, the visibility of light rays in the fog, the idea of all kinds of waves rolling through the air: radio, tv, micro, cell phones... heavy traffic on the highway at night, seeing something the wrong way and being totally bewildered until your brain and your eyes sync and all makes sense again.

dreams are killer. when dreams start to mesh with a waking surreality: it's dangerous. so powerful and outrageous that even if you can actually piece together what was real and what was a dream, that what you remember is so odd and awesome that you can't stop thinking about it.

lately i have been feeling that the most realistic situations and scenes are the most surreal. i'm not even on drugs it's just a weird phenomena. or a weird mood. or i have just been seeing a lot a weird things recently.

august & thunderstorms

2005-08-14T23:54:00.000-05:00

august is the kairos month. time suspends: the days are hot and muggy, and this pause breeds idle inspiration. life is like molasses, whatever is moving is sluggish and daunting.

i feel as though i am on the verge of something big. like a bright sunny afternoon when the earth is dry and cracked, and almost instantly dark clouds appear on the western horizon and the thick smell of rain hints at the promise of a watered earth. you know something big is about to happen- the sky is black and the edge of the clouds glow pink and orange with the last of the swallowed sun. this is my moment. now. something is coming- a much needed something. a very much unknown something. i wish i had clouds or a scent to clue me in.

you again

2005-08-10T12:30:00.000-05:00

my dreams are a cruel form of reality. torturous and unending.

titus 3

2005-08-09T11:56:00.000-05:00

my new favorite corner of the bible. so often overlooked, but it says it all right there.

strange how among the ancient pages lies so much philosophy, prophesy, emotion, history, rebuke, profound thought and absolute comfort.

God is good.

and?

2005-08-04T00:32:00.000-05:00

reorienting myself with reality. ugh- it's like a vortex back into the abyss of how life is required to be. you want that $80 a day you've got to work for it. no extended vacations in paradise. the cost is sanity and it only took 24 hours to lose mine.

what should be required in life is time spent in a place as undescribable as lake whittaker. unfortunately, those in charge of our survival don't seem to agree.

by the way, i am writing a book. who knows what it will be about but i'm on the brink. just might have to disappear from society and monetary well-being for a brief spell. miss me but please buy the hardcover version.

if anyone can counter with a better offer i'm yours.

train song

2005-08-02T18:22:00.000-05:00

travel is inspiration with a price. though i am presently loathing this form of transportation, there is something about the late afternoon sun warming the dusty, fabric seats of the quiet, napping rail car as you glide along the tracks to boston (though when gliding become more of jolting the romanticism rapidly fades).

i am becoming increasingly suspicious of my future. I feel I am doomed to travel alone on smelly trains, reading novels with pretty covers forever.

uncertainty is like a drug

2005-08-01T11:11:00.000-05:00

"too low to find my way, too high to wonder why" [thievery corp.]

it's now into the lazy daze of august— the time of limbo between a neverending summer and the curse of obligatory autumn— the last of the days before the begin-again of september when schedules fill and motivations rise to the occassion of school and work and etceteras. it's the daunting "decisions have to be made" and the last chance to procrastinate life. and at my age and in my situation, it's a time of heightened uncertainty.

for me this uncertainty has evolved into a kind of drug, and i'm an addict. i've moved and changed so many times i've grown to thrive on unpredictability. it's glorious not to know what's next— to guess and dream and try to put your life together: like a jigsaw puzzle thrown out on the table ready to piece together again. there's a kind of r u s h to it all.

it's not knowing what to do or where to go when what to do and where to go is a whole realm of possibility set before you. i mean, i can do a n y t h i n g i want but what is that? not fair. an evil duality exists here... and i'm comin off the high.

...

2005-07-18T23:55:00.000-05:00

life is a torment of possibility

loaves and fishes

2005-07-18T01:03:00.000-05:00

IAD: Dulles (dullest) Int'l Airport circa... 10:49 p.m. last night (26 min after my flight was supposed to have taken off):

situation: ground stop. no one is coming in or leaving. all places to eat or drink have been gated off, except for McDonald's. having been at the airport since 6:30 and not eaten, and knowing that i have a potentially long night ahead, i wait in line for 20 min, chatting with flight attendants headed to denver. i reach the front, order my food, and hand the cashier my VISA... well, apparently there is ONE mcd's left in the whole modern world which does not accept this traditional form of payment. having no cash and no money in my bank account, i walk away hungry and dejected. before i get very far, i hear "hey! hey you!" i turn to see one of the gentleman flight attendants i had been talking to fishing in his wallet, "i got cash!" embarrassed, I thanked him but declined, but he insisted, "you don't wait that long for nothin!" very humbled, i accept his $2, and the next thing i know the guy on my left is thrusting ones at me! now moritfied, i try to refuse but i am outdone. the woman next to me reminds me to pay it forward, and the voice of the generous flight attendant behind me says, "it's all about the loaves and the fishes". shocked and ever so pleased, i turn and affirm that he is absolutely right.

what a powerful reminder of the true meaning of the common parable of feeding the 5000: God will, indeed, provide... sometimes in very small, very miraculous ways. i thank the man again, and he gives me a big hug! best tasting quarter pounder i ever had... i smile all the way back to my gate, and in this moment nothing can get me down.

faith in humanity restored.