Be shrewd and persistent Keep knocking Keep asking I know how to give good gifts I will provide Just use what I have given you today to take care of the needs you have today I love to give good gifts Just as you who are evil know how to give good gifts Give to the emperor that which belongs to the emperor Seek first the kingdom Give "all these things" to me and I'll give them back Keep seeking Keep knocking Be persistent Wait for me O Isreal, wait upon the Lord I see you have needs I see what is ahead I have not forgotten you Keep seeking the kingdom Don't look back Don't look back to Egypt Trust me to provide Just like I gave the manna I give you the resources that pass through your hands He who is faithful with a little will be given more Don't hold on to the little And I will put more in your hands Generosity is of greater value that being penny pinching in the name of "good stewardship" Invest in your own life Be brave Be persistent Just wait. I will sustain you I will provide I will provide for you. Trust. Hang on. I know what is ahead. The flour will not run out and the oil will not run dry I see I know I am your father who provides Make Me your security rather than making your security a god Freefall into the unknown beyond today
These are a few of the words that have been running through me in these past few days. I don't know if I have learned to trust the voice of truth more these days or if someone is just speaking more clearly, but it seems that I keep hearing these whispers and can't seem to deny or shake them. This sense that even when I am stressed and afraid and feeling hopeless and helpless, there is a Father who is faithful.
My art history study for the semester is in Nineteenth Century European art and our initial days of class have covered David (pronounced DA-vEEd) and his role in the French Revolution. This morning our lecture covered the Tennis Court Oath, the Storming of the Bastille, and the subsequent Reign of Terror and it struck me how many of David's paintings were full of themes of sacrifice for the cause of the revolution, even if it meant killing one's own children. How this period of change from a system of irrational inequality to one of liberty of human dignity was not one of simplicity or joy. The time period was called "Reign of Terror" for good reason.
In just the few days that the semester has been occuring, already it has been impressed upon us as a class the deep importance of artworks as major political influences during this time period. Today, artists are marginalized as insignificant, but in the early nineteenth century, Artists were at the heart of political change and the cutting edge of cultural matters. And so, David's work was very powerful as it showed the contrast between the strenght of the revolution and the sniveling weakness of those so intent on keeping the Monarchy alive. It is this sense that the old must die. In order to bring life to the masses, there must be death, there must be mourning, and it just might be terrible.
Yesterday when I was in the art store, the clerk and I were talking about how they teach you critical thinking in college and he said this to me: Be careful-- when you get out of school you will learn how difficult it is to continue to be a critical thinker when no one else is. I am in this place in my life where I want to be a part of a revolution, even if it is only in my own life. This overturning of a culture that misses the greater points. And to be true, this own personal revolution is quite uncertain indeed (see Brutus in shadow in his own lement). Is it wise for me to refuse to go back to a secure job that makes me feel secure in death? Is it rational to walk away from a loving community that just so happens to not be life giving and requires a fight for freedom? Is it wise to go into debt for the sake of stress-free sanity? These are a few questions that make me wonder.
But for two years now, I continue to be called back to this theme of seeking another Kingdom before that of the "emperor" with his face on a chunk of metal. I am exploring this idea of seeking life before security. And sometimes the uncertainty feels a bit like a reign of terror. But there is a rich sort of burning depth to it-- a sense that it is worth feeling pain if that comes in place of feeling nothing at all. Struggling to find life buried beneath all of it, to have a sense that the decisions are up to me, that I am not enslaved by systems and limitations. I some deeper part of me knows that this is a deeper investment, but it will be worth it in the end.
So, I still have no job, but I do have an interview tomorrow and maybe a few other prospects. Surely he is faithful.
Friday, August 24
Wednesday, August 22
It's been three days of wading, cutting through the trees, although it feels more like thirty. Tomorrow will be two weeks, although it has the sensation of years. Some other world. Some watery fantasy in another time and space. I find myself now in the river, swimming like a pink bellied salmon joining the thousands making their way to English Composition, Principles of Animal Biology, Psychology 101. I feel like I belong. Melded in with the people-- not again, but for once.
I look around at the rest of my river. She wears a short skirt, heels, a tight pink tank top with another white one peeking out from underneath, her plastic beads jingling against her overindulgent feux-leather bag as her large sunglasses glint in the sunlight. I wonder how many insecurities all of that covers up? And him there, on the ten-speed bike, the ten-speed joining the twenty- thousand-strong fleet of mountain trekkers, antique Schwinns, and Wal-Mart cruisers imitating that old style-- he climbs atop with his Goodwill tweed cap, converse and trendy t-shirt touting some indie rock group only the ultra-hip have heard of. And then there are the thousands in the Colorado staple jeans and T. Little makeup, little flare, but something intensely flavorful and homelike in the the faded black cotton with the 90's style "Colorado Rockies" printed in purple. Never had eyes to see like this before. Three days feels like a month deep in intense wonder and fear and anticipation of what the next sixteen weeks hold and what the last twenty years have meant.
Everything feels new, but in an old remembrance sort of way. No job, new place, same school, new face, new haircut. The winter has not come yet, but everything feels new in an old comfortable way. Like coming back to an old sweater you lost a long time ago. It smells a little different, a little more like cinnamon, but it still feels the same soft against your face. Now that the weather is cooling, it feels less like the stuffy suffocation of before.
Leading a new life. Somehow finding the strength to dive into the rushing waters when before the movement of the waters served only as a means of memorization for those standing on the shore. Making decisions for life rather than safety, wondering what tomorrow will hold and when the oil and flour will run out. Wishing I hadn't left the apples in the bag at the checkout.
Trying hard to be brave. Pushing every part of me to the limit-- thinking hard, working hard, riding hard, standing up, up the hill, reaching out my hand to say, "Hi, I'm Heidi." Signing papers, writing checks, hoping and trusting that this life really is about more than money. Realizing that college really is a big deal-- not some simple, flippant thing that you do. Hard work. Hard work to get the A's that you have worked so hard to pay for. Hard work of trusting that somehow it really is going to work out and everything will come back around. Hard work of buying one more textbook-- $80 for two inches of paper and ink and the torture of the next four months. Realizing the fragility of it all and yet reveling in its transience.
I don't know what tomorrow will be like. Where I'll be and who I'll be with. When I think about it, I get a little frightened. Nervous. Asking questions like what will happen if I really follow my heart? Actually considering the consequences of letting my life speak and living out the integrity that keeps my heart alive even when I am afraid it may mean an empty stomach. What does tomorrow hold? I do not know. But there is something about the exhilarating buzz of that stark reality that makes me feel more alive than ever. All the batter than used to keep me numb is dripping off like sweat in the humidity and it leaves me shivering, but alive. I don't know what tomorrow holds, but today I do know is so transient. Moving, shifting, kinetic, pregnant with possibility-- the prospect of relationships and learning and failing.
I woke up yesterday remembering that old smell of death I used to find on my breath upon the sounding of the alarm clock. For a moment I thought to myself what if it returns here? But another part of me, from some other room of the house, whispered do not fear it. Do not fear it. No promise of its banishment, but assurance of my victory.
So it has been three thick days. I feel asleep in the green softness of the chair by the window, legs up on the table with the words dialogue and pedagogy ringing in my ears. Looking in the bathroom mirror wondering how I stepped into this sudden world of becoming a teacher. Suddenly submerged in this ocean of painting and drawing and schooling and educating and reading and writing and political systems and communities full of young people who love kids and love enriching lives, bursting to try it out. I don't know what tomorrow holds, but today feels soft and fragile and strange. It's been three days. Two weeks tomorrow. New world. New life. New haircut.
I look around at the rest of my river. She wears a short skirt, heels, a tight pink tank top with another white one peeking out from underneath, her plastic beads jingling against her overindulgent feux-leather bag as her large sunglasses glint in the sunlight. I wonder how many insecurities all of that covers up? And him there, on the ten-speed bike, the ten-speed joining the twenty- thousand-strong fleet of mountain trekkers, antique Schwinns, and Wal-Mart cruisers imitating that old style-- he climbs atop with his Goodwill tweed cap, converse and trendy t-shirt touting some indie rock group only the ultra-hip have heard of. And then there are the thousands in the Colorado staple jeans and T. Little makeup, little flare, but something intensely flavorful and homelike in the the faded black cotton with the 90's style "Colorado Rockies" printed in purple. Never had eyes to see like this before. Three days feels like a month deep in intense wonder and fear and anticipation of what the next sixteen weeks hold and what the last twenty years have meant.
Everything feels new, but in an old remembrance sort of way. No job, new place, same school, new face, new haircut. The winter has not come yet, but everything feels new in an old comfortable way. Like coming back to an old sweater you lost a long time ago. It smells a little different, a little more like cinnamon, but it still feels the same soft against your face. Now that the weather is cooling, it feels less like the stuffy suffocation of before.
Leading a new life. Somehow finding the strength to dive into the rushing waters when before the movement of the waters served only as a means of memorization for those standing on the shore. Making decisions for life rather than safety, wondering what tomorrow will hold and when the oil and flour will run out. Wishing I hadn't left the apples in the bag at the checkout.
Trying hard to be brave. Pushing every part of me to the limit-- thinking hard, working hard, riding hard, standing up, up the hill, reaching out my hand to say, "Hi, I'm Heidi." Signing papers, writing checks, hoping and trusting that this life really is about more than money. Realizing that college really is a big deal-- not some simple, flippant thing that you do. Hard work. Hard work to get the A's that you have worked so hard to pay for. Hard work of trusting that somehow it really is going to work out and everything will come back around. Hard work of buying one more textbook-- $80 for two inches of paper and ink and the torture of the next four months. Realizing the fragility of it all and yet reveling in its transience.
I don't know what tomorrow will be like. Where I'll be and who I'll be with. When I think about it, I get a little frightened. Nervous. Asking questions like what will happen if I really follow my heart? Actually considering the consequences of letting my life speak and living out the integrity that keeps my heart alive even when I am afraid it may mean an empty stomach. What does tomorrow hold? I do not know. But there is something about the exhilarating buzz of that stark reality that makes me feel more alive than ever. All the batter than used to keep me numb is dripping off like sweat in the humidity and it leaves me shivering, but alive. I don't know what tomorrow holds, but today I do know is so transient. Moving, shifting, kinetic, pregnant with possibility-- the prospect of relationships and learning and failing.
I woke up yesterday remembering that old smell of death I used to find on my breath upon the sounding of the alarm clock. For a moment I thought to myself what if it returns here? But another part of me, from some other room of the house, whispered do not fear it. Do not fear it. No promise of its banishment, but assurance of my victory.
So it has been three thick days. I feel asleep in the green softness of the chair by the window, legs up on the table with the words dialogue and pedagogy ringing in my ears. Looking in the bathroom mirror wondering how I stepped into this sudden world of becoming a teacher. Suddenly submerged in this ocean of painting and drawing and schooling and educating and reading and writing and political systems and communities full of young people who love kids and love enriching lives, bursting to try it out. I don't know what tomorrow holds, but today feels soft and fragile and strange. It's been three days. Two weeks tomorrow. New world. New life. New haircut.
Tuesday, August 21
Classes are in full swing and I am again reminded of the joy and stress of student life. Here are a few great quotes provided by my painting instructor as reminders as we head into our first assignment. (this is why I love art and its transferability to real life!)
"Just becasue you have a hammer in your hand does not mean all of your problems are nails."
"Your job as an artist is not to run a shuttle bus to a known destination."
Christophers Rauchenberg, speaking of his father)
"Nothing is less real than realism... It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphsis that we can get at the real meaning of things."
Georgia O'Keefe
"It is not the responsibility of the artist to recreate the visible, but to make visible."
Paul Klee
"When people are free to do as they plase, they usually imitate each other"
"Imagination is more important than knowledge."
Albert Einstein
"Risk must be taken, becasue the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing."
"Life is a journey, not a guided tour."
"When you are young and afraid, you rigidly hold to a code."
Eric Fischl
"If you continue to do what you've always done, you will continue to get what you've always got."
"In school I was taught to paint things as I saw them. But it seemed so stupid! IF you could only reproduce nature, and always with less beauty than the original why paint at all?"
Georgia O'Keefe
"Just becasue you have a hammer in your hand does not mean all of your problems are nails."
"Your job as an artist is not to run a shuttle bus to a known destination."
Christophers Rauchenberg, speaking of his father)
"Nothing is less real than realism... It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphsis that we can get at the real meaning of things."
Georgia O'Keefe
"It is not the responsibility of the artist to recreate the visible, but to make visible."
Paul Klee
"When people are free to do as they plase, they usually imitate each other"
"Imagination is more important than knowledge."
Albert Einstein
"Risk must be taken, becasue the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing."
"Life is a journey, not a guided tour."
"When you are young and afraid, you rigidly hold to a code."
Eric Fischl
"If you continue to do what you've always done, you will continue to get what you've always got."
"In school I was taught to paint things as I saw them. But it seemed so stupid! IF you could only reproduce nature, and always with less beauty than the original why paint at all?"
Georgia O'Keefe
Friday, August 17
Why is it that if there is someone who claims no allegiance, who has no reason to call themselves our beloved label of "Christian" we so kindly (and patronistically, I might add) give them all the room they need to question, to doubt, to "misunderstand." We don't expect them to have any sort of commitment to the church, not reason to tie themselves to this institution. But then, suddenly, we overhear a conversation in which one might call themselves a Christian, a Christ-follower, a "believer" and suddenly, we accuse them, question them, "keep the accountable" when they are not willing to conform to the preconceived model of the Church. All of the sudden, because I lay claim to being a Chris-follower, if I begin to question how things are done on Sunday morning, if I feel trapped by this institution, suddenly I am "backsliding." Suddenly I need to be prayed for. Suddenly I need a lecture on being forgiving, having grace, "Loving a church full of imperfect people." I have no right to ask for change, to ask questions or walk away completely to seek a God that is not afraid of change.
But I've got this sense that God must be bigger than this thing we call church. If God is a God who can't love me, who disowns me if my name is not on a membership card in some church somewhere, I'm not sure that is the God of Freedom and adoption that Jesus came to show us. There seems to be this sense of fear that if I am asking enough questions of the current institution of the church to want to explore something else, God is getting nervous too. Like God needs the security of our stained glass windows (that don't allow us to see out, by the way) as much as we do. I just don't think so.
I remember a number of months ago walking around our subdivision in Meridian as my daily routine included and looking up at the blue of the sky and in an instant hearing the Father say to me, "This is how big I am. This is my sanctuary."
I keep thinking about the book I read recently, "Jim and Casper Go to Church" and Casper asks the simple question: is this what Jesus told you to do? (referring to our Sunday morning ritual). It is like we have been doing things this way for so long, it shatters our world to think that there are a lot of other ways that God uses to seek us out, to call the world to himself.
And I get tired of fighting this battle of being called bitter and cyncial and graceless and wrong and sinful simply because church leaves me feeling more dead than free. I am trying hard to put myself in the place of those who are able to thrive in the common church environment, jealous of those even, but the truth of the matter is that I need something else.
I've been mulling over the idea of black and white this week. In and Out. The security of being labeled. But I wonder if for just one moment I could simply be a human being, a creation of the Father. I'd like to have the freedom to fit into the rest of the world. To be free from labels of in-ness to get away from this notion that because I have "crossed the line" somehow I am an alien. I hate that idea-- that somehow now I am of this other rhealm that is beyond and apart from other thinking and feeling human beings on this planet. I'm tired of being told to isolate myself, to hold myself back from belonging and therefore missing out on a big part of this world God has made.
This morning I have been seeking God on where he would lead, what he would have of me, what areas I still need to lay before him, I get this sense that what he is calling me to do is simply go out into the world and love. I have this need to be stripped of all the things that distract me from love, to stop focusing on my own spiritual state, my religious standing and just get out there and love people. That is really mostly what Jesus calls us to do. To show the world what God is like instead of sitting around in our sheltered church buildings and talking about it to make ourselves feel better. I just am tired of getting bogged down in that sort of wasted time.
And I begin to wonder if maybe I stop telling people that I am a Christian, maybe I'll stop being expected to have no questions. That people can stop being angry at me for refusing to roll over and accept the things they are too afraid to reject. That maybe I can stop being expected to blindly take in everything that has been slapped with the label Christian, everything the church does. The fact that the church is full of humans not only means that we should give them grace, but also that some things might actually be wrong and may not be of God. . I am beginning to wonder if when God said not to take his name in vain, he meant not to put his name on things that he doesn't actually endorse. I'm not sure it is always such a terrible thing to need to walk away and seek something else that I can breathe in without choking on. Maybe if we would start realizing that seekers are not just people who don't follow Christ, then we could stop stabbing each other in the chest with big books and expectations and labels.
And maybe I really am a heretic. But I would like to have the permission to find that out for myself. I think God is big enough to handle me if I'm wrong.
But I've got this sense that God must be bigger than this thing we call church. If God is a God who can't love me, who disowns me if my name is not on a membership card in some church somewhere, I'm not sure that is the God of Freedom and adoption that Jesus came to show us. There seems to be this sense of fear that if I am asking enough questions of the current institution of the church to want to explore something else, God is getting nervous too. Like God needs the security of our stained glass windows (that don't allow us to see out, by the way) as much as we do. I just don't think so.
I remember a number of months ago walking around our subdivision in Meridian as my daily routine included and looking up at the blue of the sky and in an instant hearing the Father say to me, "This is how big I am. This is my sanctuary."
I keep thinking about the book I read recently, "Jim and Casper Go to Church" and Casper asks the simple question: is this what Jesus told you to do? (referring to our Sunday morning ritual). It is like we have been doing things this way for so long, it shatters our world to think that there are a lot of other ways that God uses to seek us out, to call the world to himself.
And I get tired of fighting this battle of being called bitter and cyncial and graceless and wrong and sinful simply because church leaves me feeling more dead than free. I am trying hard to put myself in the place of those who are able to thrive in the common church environment, jealous of those even, but the truth of the matter is that I need something else.
I've been mulling over the idea of black and white this week. In and Out. The security of being labeled. But I wonder if for just one moment I could simply be a human being, a creation of the Father. I'd like to have the freedom to fit into the rest of the world. To be free from labels of in-ness to get away from this notion that because I have "crossed the line" somehow I am an alien. I hate that idea-- that somehow now I am of this other rhealm that is beyond and apart from other thinking and feeling human beings on this planet. I'm tired of being told to isolate myself, to hold myself back from belonging and therefore missing out on a big part of this world God has made.
This morning I have been seeking God on where he would lead, what he would have of me, what areas I still need to lay before him, I get this sense that what he is calling me to do is simply go out into the world and love. I have this need to be stripped of all the things that distract me from love, to stop focusing on my own spiritual state, my religious standing and just get out there and love people. That is really mostly what Jesus calls us to do. To show the world what God is like instead of sitting around in our sheltered church buildings and talking about it to make ourselves feel better. I just am tired of getting bogged down in that sort of wasted time.
And I begin to wonder if maybe I stop telling people that I am a Christian, maybe I'll stop being expected to have no questions. That people can stop being angry at me for refusing to roll over and accept the things they are too afraid to reject. That maybe I can stop being expected to blindly take in everything that has been slapped with the label Christian, everything the church does. The fact that the church is full of humans not only means that we should give them grace, but also that some things might actually be wrong and may not be of God. . I am beginning to wonder if when God said not to take his name in vain, he meant not to put his name on things that he doesn't actually endorse. I'm not sure it is always such a terrible thing to need to walk away and seek something else that I can breathe in without choking on. Maybe if we would start realizing that seekers are not just people who don't follow Christ, then we could stop stabbing each other in the chest with big books and expectations and labels.
And maybe I really am a heretic. But I would like to have the permission to find that out for myself. I think God is big enough to handle me if I'm wrong.
Thursday, August 16
It's a cool night after a day of calm. Sort of quiet processing, more moving through boxes, putting things in order. Cooling down after some painful conversation. Getting my bearing after things stop spinning a little.
Classes start on Monday. Students are moving into the dorms. New ID. New text books. New bus pass. Finding classes, filling out forms. The buzz of campus maintenance as they finish up last minute upgrades from the slow summer. Seeing old friends, recognizing classmates from semesters ago. Bouquets of sharpened pencils, as they say.
The weather here is cooling down-- my afternoon thundershowers have returned to me with their navy blue skies, crackling thunder and illuminating lightning. Experiencing a new way of life in an old place.
Job interviews and solidified realizations of what it is that I really want. Understanding the power of my own active choice. I have the power to decide how my life will be, who I will meet and who I will allow to influence me.
Making choices that don't always make sense. Picking out a lifestyle that may be misunderstood but rooted in convictions that go so much deeper than articulation allows. Having the power to say no to the things that are safe and search for the things that really matter. Finding security in something outside of how things appear. Waiting, holding out for what it is that I really want. Choosing my battles and making sacrifices for the things that are truly worth love.
Learning to stop throwing my pearls before swine. Fearlessly looking into the eyes of someone else and saying how I really feel. Saying "I love you" to the people I actually do love and not feeling obligated to say it to anyone else.
Standing up for myself. Sometimes standing up for myself to myself. Smiling at myself. Smiling at others. Feeling a part of something instead of on the outside. Choosing belonging and keeping it that way.
New starts, new beginning. Plunging through more ground, clearing more of the woods. Getting all scratched up while breathing in deep. Deep breath. Deep breath.
ANd then also feeling so very, so incredibly loved by those far away. Words of "I miss you--" spelled out as "It didn't seem right that you weren't there..." Feels deep and good. Love that only makes me want to pass it on. A dark blue contrast to pressure to commit instead of simply freedom to love.
Its a cool night after the depth of heat-- the sweat pouring down my back.
Classes start on Monday. Students are moving into the dorms. New ID. New text books. New bus pass. Finding classes, filling out forms. The buzz of campus maintenance as they finish up last minute upgrades from the slow summer. Seeing old friends, recognizing classmates from semesters ago. Bouquets of sharpened pencils, as they say.
The weather here is cooling down-- my afternoon thundershowers have returned to me with their navy blue skies, crackling thunder and illuminating lightning. Experiencing a new way of life in an old place.
Job interviews and solidified realizations of what it is that I really want. Understanding the power of my own active choice. I have the power to decide how my life will be, who I will meet and who I will allow to influence me.
Making choices that don't always make sense. Picking out a lifestyle that may be misunderstood but rooted in convictions that go so much deeper than articulation allows. Having the power to say no to the things that are safe and search for the things that really matter. Finding security in something outside of how things appear. Waiting, holding out for what it is that I really want. Choosing my battles and making sacrifices for the things that are truly worth love.
Learning to stop throwing my pearls before swine. Fearlessly looking into the eyes of someone else and saying how I really feel. Saying "I love you" to the people I actually do love and not feeling obligated to say it to anyone else.
Standing up for myself. Sometimes standing up for myself to myself. Smiling at myself. Smiling at others. Feeling a part of something instead of on the outside. Choosing belonging and keeping it that way.
New starts, new beginning. Plunging through more ground, clearing more of the woods. Getting all scratched up while breathing in deep. Deep breath. Deep breath.
ANd then also feeling so very, so incredibly loved by those far away. Words of "I miss you--" spelled out as "It didn't seem right that you weren't there..." Feels deep and good. Love that only makes me want to pass it on. A dark blue contrast to pressure to commit instead of simply freedom to love.
Its a cool night after the depth of heat-- the sweat pouring down my back.
Tuesday, August 14
It's late and I'm too tired to sleep. Exhausted from questions and pressures and ringing phones and unfamiliar places. Familiar faces that feel so very distant. I've lost myself and I've forgotten. Keep forgetting that things are not the same, that everything has changed and it has been a long long time. Boundaries. Saying no comes so easy, flowing out. It feels as if the world is spinning. Everything looks the same but feels so eternally different. I want to hide, run to safety. Just one little warm familiar spot. I don't trust you. I need you more than ever and for once I realize I can't trust you. None of you. Mood-shifting, mind-changing anger. Never safe. Never generous. Always shifting. I've given up on love. Stopped pretending and stopped trying to be understanding. I don't trust you. I need you more than ever but you aren't to be trusted, you shifting sand, rolling, crushing boulder. Never a smile, always a broken heart. You heart crusher. Self-absorbed. You scoff at the very things I love, spend my life on. Big deal. Big deal. Heartless. I'd like to say you abandoned, but you've just left me alone one more time. Abandonment requires prior presence. The bleeding won't stop, leaving me weak and dilerious. I'm lost. There's not place like home and I wonder what that means. There is no place. No place of safety. Please leave me alone. A slap in the face. A demand in a flash of anger. You're selfish, never seeing. All about you. always about you. You child. A slap in the face. A punch in the gut. how could you be so childish? please don't come. I don't want your help. It is no help to me. Only pain and guilt. Shame and despair. You cheat me out of what is my due. You take it for yourself. Gorging yourself, stuffed, never appreciating. And I'll be never trusting. It's not my fault. I'm not to blame. You wear the T-shirt, you wear the lie. What sort of twisted falsehood are you believing? How dare you? How dare you? How am I to navigate? To where can I escape? You are coming-- coming for me and I don't trust you. You shifting sands. I love you you say. What the hell does that mean? What the hell does that even mean to you? for me? I'm not sure I believe it anymore. You all look foreign, you shifting faces. I see through you to your delusion. I just want to sleep. But all is spinning and there is no place like home. Everything is different and cold and scary, the shadows making demon faces on the walls. The mess that covers the floor and the desk and the table and the bed gets mixed up in the mess that is my spirit and it all melds together. I think there is no place like home and I'll be never trusting.
Monday, August 13
Let nothing keep you from loving
As I find myself reentering life here, where I was before, these past few days have been filled with thoughts and fears and questions regarding the appearance of my life. Not how do I look to other people, but the question of "truly, what is the composition of my current life" followed by, "Where am I going from here?"
In the past few days, I've read over some old journal entries from a few months ago in anticipation of this very moment. I wrote things like, "I want my life to be about something bigger-- I want my life to be about love and relationships."
I've had some time to think about the friendships that I have here and have grieved their frailty. Part of me is tempted to fear, to be ashamed at the realiztion my apparent social awkwardness (and seeming inadequacy, I might add) up to this point. I am tempted to be discouraged and give into the little voice that whispers this is your fault and you'll be stuck in this endless cycle of impossible friendships forever. You'll never find the intimacy and companionship that you seek.
But as I look back on the last seven months, I know the truth of these fears can only be impossible. I replay videos of myself making new friends when I thought it impossible. I replay videos of myself walking up to people and introducing myself, genuinely caring for their hearts. I replay conversations in which I was encouraged to put my full weight into the trust of my own capabilities for loving.
As I face the semester before me, look out my window and see other students walk by, I have this overwhelming sense that I want things to be different this time. I'm getting a second chance, a do-over. I am so glad that I took the time to press the pause button so as to not let these moments pass me by. (Part of me wonders and hopes that I didn't press play too soon, but i suppose there is always grace for that and second chances). So here I am, wondering if the person inside has changed enough to affect the outside.
As I look back on the past seven months, I see a great leap toward finding the freedom to love. The more I think about it, the more I think this is the freedom I have been seeking for a long time. The power over the very walls I put up, the break from the shame that keeps me from being honest about the delight I find in life and other people. And I can't help but think that life is only life when we live it in love. Life is first and formost about love and enjoyment. We were created for the purpose of delight.
So my battle cry, the march that I take forward with me as I embark on this new journey is the challenge to myself to let nothing keep me from loving. To pursue intimacy, to risk vulnerability, to be honest about the love that I keep locked inside so much. To stop hiding and begin loving. I think that is enough to keep me busy for a good long time.
In the past few days, I've read over some old journal entries from a few months ago in anticipation of this very moment. I wrote things like, "I want my life to be about something bigger-- I want my life to be about love and relationships."
I've had some time to think about the friendships that I have here and have grieved their frailty. Part of me is tempted to fear, to be ashamed at the realiztion my apparent social awkwardness (and seeming inadequacy, I might add) up to this point. I am tempted to be discouraged and give into the little voice that whispers this is your fault and you'll be stuck in this endless cycle of impossible friendships forever. You'll never find the intimacy and companionship that you seek.
But as I look back on the last seven months, I know the truth of these fears can only be impossible. I replay videos of myself making new friends when I thought it impossible. I replay videos of myself walking up to people and introducing myself, genuinely caring for their hearts. I replay conversations in which I was encouraged to put my full weight into the trust of my own capabilities for loving.
As I face the semester before me, look out my window and see other students walk by, I have this overwhelming sense that I want things to be different this time. I'm getting a second chance, a do-over. I am so glad that I took the time to press the pause button so as to not let these moments pass me by. (Part of me wonders and hopes that I didn't press play too soon, but i suppose there is always grace for that and second chances). So here I am, wondering if the person inside has changed enough to affect the outside.
As I look back on the past seven months, I see a great leap toward finding the freedom to love. The more I think about it, the more I think this is the freedom I have been seeking for a long time. The power over the very walls I put up, the break from the shame that keeps me from being honest about the delight I find in life and other people. And I can't help but think that life is only life when we live it in love. Life is first and formost about love and enjoyment. We were created for the purpose of delight.
So my battle cry, the march that I take forward with me as I embark on this new journey is the challenge to myself to let nothing keep me from loving. To pursue intimacy, to risk vulnerability, to be honest about the love that I keep locked inside so much. To stop hiding and begin loving. I think that is enough to keep me busy for a good long time.
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