if only my words could sway you
if only i could gather your love
gather it like daisies in a meadow
placing their yellow faces within my heart shaped vase
if only my love could open your eyes
if only i could show you
pulling away the drapes from your eyes
that you would see what i see
"if only" is a sad statement
because it only means "i can't"
++
its just one of those days...
this too shall pass
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
From a Distance
Loving you from a distance isn’t easy when I’m standing so close to you.
To be honest, it is painful.
When you are near my heart beats furiously and my stomach, full of butterflies, churns anxiously anticipating the moment when you will leave. Once you move from sight that hole returns. That gaping hole in the center of my chest reappears with its searing edges eating through the whole of me as I wait to be truly seen by your eyes.
It is a painstaking reality to love without reciprocation having given your warmth to someone only to stand in the cold outside their front door without receipt.
Sometimes, like a mutt, you crawl to their back door to partake of whatever scraps they may throw, but their garbage leaves you unsatisfied—still hungering, still thirsting for their love.
Yet still, without reserve, you give yourself over to them. Taking the hurt of budding romance deep within yourself. You stand garnished with a crown of thorns holding tight to emotions that are only to be mentioned in drunken moments. Called out in times when no one, not even you, will fully remember what was said. There you are left standing in the dark of this cathartic moment clothed in a lingering sense of discontentment and embarrassment.
Yet, you still love.
Why do you love given the circumstances? You do so because it is your purpose to love. Your life is a pursuit of love, a gift of love, a reality of true loves actions. Unfortunately, in the world our love is imperfect and often misdirected. There are times when we love what we do not need, cannot have and should not want. That said, the love between a man and a woman can be beautiful when pruned to the mirror image of Christ and the Church.
So, I wait. I wait for the moment when this seed becomes a rose and these thorns, while still a struggle, are redeemed with beauty. A beauty not our own, but centered upon our 1st love as we look out together in a purposeful moment.
As I wait for you to be ready, loving you from a distance isn’t easy when we are standing so close. In fact, it is painful, but this battle , in time, will bring to fruition life’s beauty—love.
To be honest, it is painful.
When you are near my heart beats furiously and my stomach, full of butterflies, churns anxiously anticipating the moment when you will leave. Once you move from sight that hole returns. That gaping hole in the center of my chest reappears with its searing edges eating through the whole of me as I wait to be truly seen by your eyes.
It is a painstaking reality to love without reciprocation having given your warmth to someone only to stand in the cold outside their front door without receipt.
Sometimes, like a mutt, you crawl to their back door to partake of whatever scraps they may throw, but their garbage leaves you unsatisfied—still hungering, still thirsting for their love.
Yet still, without reserve, you give yourself over to them. Taking the hurt of budding romance deep within yourself. You stand garnished with a crown of thorns holding tight to emotions that are only to be mentioned in drunken moments. Called out in times when no one, not even you, will fully remember what was said. There you are left standing in the dark of this cathartic moment clothed in a lingering sense of discontentment and embarrassment.
Yet, you still love.
Why do you love given the circumstances? You do so because it is your purpose to love. Your life is a pursuit of love, a gift of love, a reality of true loves actions. Unfortunately, in the world our love is imperfect and often misdirected. There are times when we love what we do not need, cannot have and should not want. That said, the love between a man and a woman can be beautiful when pruned to the mirror image of Christ and the Church.
So, I wait. I wait for the moment when this seed becomes a rose and these thorns, while still a struggle, are redeemed with beauty. A beauty not our own, but centered upon our 1st love as we look out together in a purposeful moment.
As I wait for you to be ready, loving you from a distance isn’t easy when we are standing so close. In fact, it is painful, but this battle , in time, will bring to fruition life’s beauty—love.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Free Write: Randomly Thoughtful
Sittin' in a room full of sinners and saints
Judged as delinquents, wearin' jumpers, caged.
But the only sinner I see is the one inside of me
Society, so blind, these angels they'll never see.
++
Wishing we were on a beach
Feeling soft sand beneath my feet
Sunshine on my face
Replacing the dull with radiant grace
++
Sunshine on my face in the dead of winter fills my soul with your golden goodness. These rays of light like arms lift me to a place that transcends the worry of the day. In the light of your love these nightmares become as fiments unseen. My darkness is disheveled with the pulling of drapes from eyes the windows to my soul enabling refreshing water to fill this empty cavern washing clean these cold stone walls of mud.
++
Heard this before in a ten week class where my professor came garnished with a bow tie. How hard can it be? Open your mouth, speak, close your mouth, and move along. That said, i suppose practice makes permanent and ill-preparatino can leave you speechless hearing only the chatter of a crowd dismayed with yoru presentation. So, I'll disappear into the crevices of my mind inviting the characters of my imagination to come out to play until we finish.
++
Monday.
I love Mondays!
A fresh start to old habits. a clean slate to demolish historical lists of to dos that sit upon my throne, a 6x4 desk decorated with keyboard, screen and phone. Yes, I have a phone. It has voicemail too. I'm really not that important. That said, I also have busness cards and a company email. While I'm not essential, I at least feel important and that makes all the difference. Well, it at least makes a difference on Monday.
++
Do what I say and not as I do. My parents must have had this motto at some point. I don't think that believe as such anymore. Mauybe that is why I had a hard time listening. I think recently they've come to realize that I am not blind. I'm not deaf either, but my actions my have conveyed otherwise. Presently they talk a lot less and hide a lot more. One would think its because I'm older, but I honestly think it is because they are older and are tired of repeating theirselves and/exhausted from defending theirselves.
Judged as delinquents, wearin' jumpers, caged.
But the only sinner I see is the one inside of me
Society, so blind, these angels they'll never see.
++
Wishing we were on a beach
Feeling soft sand beneath my feet
Sunshine on my face
Replacing the dull with radiant grace
++
Sunshine on my face in the dead of winter fills my soul with your golden goodness. These rays of light like arms lift me to a place that transcends the worry of the day. In the light of your love these nightmares become as fiments unseen. My darkness is disheveled with the pulling of drapes from eyes the windows to my soul enabling refreshing water to fill this empty cavern washing clean these cold stone walls of mud.
++
Heard this before in a ten week class where my professor came garnished with a bow tie. How hard can it be? Open your mouth, speak, close your mouth, and move along. That said, i suppose practice makes permanent and ill-preparatino can leave you speechless hearing only the chatter of a crowd dismayed with yoru presentation. So, I'll disappear into the crevices of my mind inviting the characters of my imagination to come out to play until we finish.
++
Monday.
I love Mondays!
A fresh start to old habits. a clean slate to demolish historical lists of to dos that sit upon my throne, a 6x4 desk decorated with keyboard, screen and phone. Yes, I have a phone. It has voicemail too. I'm really not that important. That said, I also have busness cards and a company email. While I'm not essential, I at least feel important and that makes all the difference. Well, it at least makes a difference on Monday.
++
Do what I say and not as I do. My parents must have had this motto at some point. I don't think that believe as such anymore. Mauybe that is why I had a hard time listening. I think recently they've come to realize that I am not blind. I'm not deaf either, but my actions my have conveyed otherwise. Presently they talk a lot less and hide a lot more. One would think its because I'm older, but I honestly think it is because they are older and are tired of repeating theirselves and/exhausted from defending theirselves.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Free Write: Somtimes Things Vibe
Sometimes things vibe.
Sometimes their are no vibes just the reverberation of feelings and emotions left unarticulated and thus unrequited.
I hate reverb, but it is so telling of what is going on beneath the surface. The messages of sound waves unseen, but suddenly heard can be shocking. The impact of that shock can be dynamic and/or detrimental. It really just depends on the house and what damage is sustained. If the damage is catastrophic will you rebuild or simply move on? What if the damage appears minimal and you repair but years from now it is found unfit, have you wasted your time?
Sometimes things vibe.
Other times things seriously vibrate, no, seriously shake like an earthquake.
I am waiting for the ground to stop moving beneath my feet, but until it does I will come out from under this table, climb on top and ride this shock like a wave. I know its dangerous, but I am willing to take the risk. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words can ever scar me. Am I too blind to see the signs? Am I waiting in vain?
Sometimes things vibe.
Today there was no vibe.
A ten minute car ride left me feeling helpless, no, hopeless. Clinging to you the way a hungry child clings to their mother's breast. Pining for the smallest amount of redemption in our conversation. That said your subtle defenses leave me hurt and yearning for your approval, no, your recognition that everything is better than fine. Many have the power to upset me, but only you have the power to hurt. Ignorance, no, a lack of desire to see enables me to overlook your sly remarks for the time, but they will bite me in my sleep. Your words are my bed bugs and your lack of action the essence of my nightmares.
Sometimes things vibe, but today you shook me empty.
Sometimes their are no vibes just the reverberation of feelings and emotions left unarticulated and thus unrequited.
I hate reverb, but it is so telling of what is going on beneath the surface. The messages of sound waves unseen, but suddenly heard can be shocking. The impact of that shock can be dynamic and/or detrimental. It really just depends on the house and what damage is sustained. If the damage is catastrophic will you rebuild or simply move on? What if the damage appears minimal and you repair but years from now it is found unfit, have you wasted your time?
Sometimes things vibe.
Other times things seriously vibrate, no, seriously shake like an earthquake.
I am waiting for the ground to stop moving beneath my feet, but until it does I will come out from under this table, climb on top and ride this shock like a wave. I know its dangerous, but I am willing to take the risk. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words can ever scar me. Am I too blind to see the signs? Am I waiting in vain?
Sometimes things vibe.
Today there was no vibe.
A ten minute car ride left me feeling helpless, no, hopeless. Clinging to you the way a hungry child clings to their mother's breast. Pining for the smallest amount of redemption in our conversation. That said your subtle defenses leave me hurt and yearning for your approval, no, your recognition that everything is better than fine. Many have the power to upset me, but only you have the power to hurt. Ignorance, no, a lack of desire to see enables me to overlook your sly remarks for the time, but they will bite me in my sleep. Your words are my bed bugs and your lack of action the essence of my nightmares.
Sometimes things vibe, but today you shook me empty.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Random Free Write 120209
I can't believe that it is already December. Just yesterday it was June. The obvious time disparity would explain why I am so damn tired.
I can barely believe that it has been nearly two years since I graduated from college. Evenmore I can barely believe that I have been living in Seattle for nearly six years. Six years is a long time. I thought for sure that I would be off galavating around the world by now. That was my dream. I suppse this gypsy found something/someone she loves more than adventure or maybe she has just found the adventure of a lifetime. RELATIONSHIP(s).
I am so disappointed about my trip to NYC...cancelled.
I am completely blown away by Mother's generosity...she bought me a plane ticket for later in the month. That is one of the nicest things she has ever done for me.
There are these two rocks on my desk from summer 2007. In the center of one is written the word "mana" aka "manu" meaning "what is this?" in Hebrew. The other "love". Make of it what you will. There is a sermon in there somewhere.
Sermon.
What am I going to talk about FUZE next Tuesday?
I was thinking...
The Real Birth Story---all the scandalous details...
Free writing sucks tonight. I have too many thoughts and not enough mental energy to make them coherent.
TOP THREE WORDS TODAY... "I WANT YOU"
I can barely believe that it has been nearly two years since I graduated from college. Evenmore I can barely believe that I have been living in Seattle for nearly six years. Six years is a long time. I thought for sure that I would be off galavating around the world by now. That was my dream. I suppse this gypsy found something/someone she loves more than adventure or maybe she has just found the adventure of a lifetime. RELATIONSHIP(s).
I am so disappointed about my trip to NYC...cancelled.
I am completely blown away by Mother's generosity...she bought me a plane ticket for later in the month. That is one of the nicest things she has ever done for me.
There are these two rocks on my desk from summer 2007. In the center of one is written the word "mana" aka "manu" meaning "what is this?" in Hebrew. The other "love". Make of it what you will. There is a sermon in there somewhere.
Sermon.
What am I going to talk about FUZE next Tuesday?
I was thinking...
The Real Birth Story---all the scandalous details...
Free writing sucks tonight. I have too many thoughts and not enough mental energy to make them coherent.
TOP THREE WORDS TODAY... "I WANT YOU"
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Random Free Write 11222009
Generally speaking... I suck at this thing called "life". The upside of sucking early on is that I have the prime opportunity to become the "MILL"--Most Improved 'Liver' in a Lifetime. Yes, yes, I know, doesn't everyone want to become a MILL.
Currently, I am sitting in my office, staring at a pile of junk that needs to be sorted and organized. I have more work to do this week than I did last week. I didn't get half-way through last week's to do list. Who am I kidding? I never get half-way through my to do list before another week starts. Can you imagine how many to do list are currently sitting on my desk? Well, none. I threw them all away in hopes that on Monday I can start over. (I'll dig them out of the trash when I get into the office on tomorrow morning. I need them.)
Additionally, I am struggling with my very own tale of two cities. Where shall I live next year? New York City or Seattle. New York City or Seattle. New York City or Seattle.
My mind is shouting, "just choose."
My heart is saying, "recognize the impact."
My soul is crying out for direction.
My body wants to sink.
I want to sink down a into hole of darkness. A hole so deep that the smallest light would seem as bright as the sun. Eventually I'll be forced to choose, but for now I'll sink deep into my bed far below my comforter tucked tightly in my sheets and the light of new day will do just fine for now.
There is a still small voice inside of me that beckons me to peace, calling me to rest, but I cannot stop this moving. This movement is my life. I fear that if I stop moving I will cease to exist. If I cease to exist have I therefore died?
And I'm lonely. Not lonely for friends. I have plenty. I am lonely for a companion. Someone with whom I share life. However, I'm not desperate. It has to be right. I'd be lieing if I didn't admit that I have someone in mind. If only they would oblige and follow suite I think we could be happy. That said, thinking is not knowing and the only way to know is to try. The only way to try is to oblige. In this instance my love is a ship without water. Lonely as I may be I am never hopeless. There is always hope. Just sometimes my hope is really tiny while other times it is really big and looks a little more like passion. Sometimes my passion is really tiny while other times it is really big and looks a little more like fire. (In those times it may even feel like fire.)
In the long run, I am happy, but not to be confused with joyful. However, I am that too. I am joyful. I am pry more joyful than I am happy. I suppose that is the way it should be since joy lasts a lot longer.
I miss you.
Isn't funny how some of the most powerful statements are the shortest.
The one's with three words seem to mean a lot.
I need you.
I want you.
I love you.
I miss you. I always seem to come back to this one.
God is good. I always seem to come back to this one too.
Currently, I am sitting in my office, staring at a pile of junk that needs to be sorted and organized. I have more work to do this week than I did last week. I didn't get half-way through last week's to do list. Who am I kidding? I never get half-way through my to do list before another week starts. Can you imagine how many to do list are currently sitting on my desk? Well, none. I threw them all away in hopes that on Monday I can start over. (I'll dig them out of the trash when I get into the office on tomorrow morning. I need them.)
Additionally, I am struggling with my very own tale of two cities. Where shall I live next year? New York City or Seattle. New York City or Seattle. New York City or Seattle.
My mind is shouting, "just choose."
My heart is saying, "recognize the impact."
My soul is crying out for direction.
My body wants to sink.
I want to sink down a into hole of darkness. A hole so deep that the smallest light would seem as bright as the sun. Eventually I'll be forced to choose, but for now I'll sink deep into my bed far below my comforter tucked tightly in my sheets and the light of new day will do just fine for now.
There is a still small voice inside of me that beckons me to peace, calling me to rest, but I cannot stop this moving. This movement is my life. I fear that if I stop moving I will cease to exist. If I cease to exist have I therefore died?
And I'm lonely. Not lonely for friends. I have plenty. I am lonely for a companion. Someone with whom I share life. However, I'm not desperate. It has to be right. I'd be lieing if I didn't admit that I have someone in mind. If only they would oblige and follow suite I think we could be happy. That said, thinking is not knowing and the only way to know is to try. The only way to try is to oblige. In this instance my love is a ship without water. Lonely as I may be I am never hopeless. There is always hope. Just sometimes my hope is really tiny while other times it is really big and looks a little more like passion. Sometimes my passion is really tiny while other times it is really big and looks a little more like fire. (In those times it may even feel like fire.)
In the long run, I am happy, but not to be confused with joyful. However, I am that too. I am joyful. I am pry more joyful than I am happy. I suppose that is the way it should be since joy lasts a lot longer.
I miss you.
Isn't funny how some of the most powerful statements are the shortest.
The one's with three words seem to mean a lot.
I need you.
I want you.
I love you.
I miss you. I always seem to come back to this one.
God is good. I always seem to come back to this one too.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
You've Got Mail
Do you remember the movie "You've Got Mail"?
In this day and age of technology and modern day communication I feel as if my psyche is marked. By this I mean, unlike my grandmother, and even my mother, I wait for a text message, an email, a facebook post, a voicemail, a phonecall on my mobile device, or a tweet, instead of a letter, a short note, a card, a post card, or a telegram. I can not only move around the house while talking on my mobile device, but I can wonder the entire country (and with the right cell phone plan the entire world) while talking to someone.
What's even crazier is that my grandmother, and even my mother, used to memorize signatures and hand writing. I recognize ring tones, digital names and logins.
My grandomother, and even my mother, used to wait for love notes and flowers. I wait for love emails and text message with smiley faces.
I have to say, all this comparison is making me nostalgic for the past. I want love notes and flowers. I would rather recognize your signature than your username. I know your ringtone and what your name looks like visually on the screen of my phone when you call, but I haven't a clue what your handwriting looks like. I can look up your facebook anytime I want to, but I'm afraid to call you and ask you out for dinner. This is a sad (slightly disturbing and definately creepy) reality.
I'm tired of waiting for a messages in my inbox. I am so used to information being at the tip of my fingers that when I actually have to wait for something (or Lord forbid look for something) I grow impatient.
Is there a cure for the impatience and poor work ethic created by the "microwave popcorn" philosophy of this current generation?
I hope so... cause I'm searching.
Until then, I've got mail.
No really, I do.
In this day and age of technology and modern day communication I feel as if my psyche is marked. By this I mean, unlike my grandmother, and even my mother, I wait for a text message, an email, a facebook post, a voicemail, a phonecall on my mobile device, or a tweet, instead of a letter, a short note, a card, a post card, or a telegram. I can not only move around the house while talking on my mobile device, but I can wonder the entire country (and with the right cell phone plan the entire world) while talking to someone.
What's even crazier is that my grandmother, and even my mother, used to memorize signatures and hand writing. I recognize ring tones, digital names and logins.
My grandomother, and even my mother, used to wait for love notes and flowers. I wait for love emails and text message with smiley faces.
I have to say, all this comparison is making me nostalgic for the past. I want love notes and flowers. I would rather recognize your signature than your username. I know your ringtone and what your name looks like visually on the screen of my phone when you call, but I haven't a clue what your handwriting looks like. I can look up your facebook anytime I want to, but I'm afraid to call you and ask you out for dinner. This is a sad (slightly disturbing and definately creepy) reality.
I'm tired of waiting for a messages in my inbox. I am so used to information being at the tip of my fingers that when I actually have to wait for something (or Lord forbid look for something) I grow impatient.
Is there a cure for the impatience and poor work ethic created by the "microwave popcorn" philosophy of this current generation?
I hope so... cause I'm searching.
Until then, I've got mail.
No really, I do.
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