This countertop is cold
Cold like the look I gave you when I told you to go
Go away from here
Here is where you left me
Me, a word I say too often
Often I find myself standing in a room with no walls but obvious boundaries
Boundaries is what my heart needs to keep it inside this flesh, you see
Seeing is believing but what if you are blind
Blind to the World
The World can be so cold
Monday, June 6, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Generally Speaking...
Generally speaking this website hasn't gotten much play lately. It has been slightly overshadowed by the handiness of a notebook and pen that can go everywhere with me versus a computer and internet that is really only functional in sedentary places.
As of late, I have been feeling a lot like I am chasing the sun/Son. Clearly, that cannot be so. My brain tells me that the sun/Son has been chasing me, and so I akwardly cock my head backwards to try to catch a glimpse of the rays but they remain unseen. To me at least.
More often than not I am confused and conflicted. My heart and mind simoultaneously abuse each other. Productivity is low and in the heat of this unruly adventure I sweat profusely...waiting for my deodorant to kick-in...or give out. This is the anxiety talking; causing me to feel like I cannot do enough, give enough, be enough.
Feeling as if I am forever reaching behind my ears hoping to change the tapes that have been playing since birth. They are not good enough. At times I listen. They tell me I'm not good enough and the battle ensues. It is usually easier to listen to them in complacency than it is continue pushing forward for their changing. On any account, I know that they are not the right casettes and so I will keep reaching until I can change them.
I am not afraid though. This is what causes me to believe Your not chasing me. It pushes me to trust that You are in me. Walking with me. I am not alone.
In this moment I pick up a mental stone. No, not to chuck or throw, to lay down. To build a memorial. To remember that there are times when I find peace and ease despite the complexity and pain of the world around me.
My Mother used to say, "Let go and let God."
When I have children I will say, "Let God. Trust God. God will do whatever God wants whether you are holding on or not. Letting go just may make it easier and little less painful. That said, in the end God works for the good of those who love God."
It'll take a lot longer to say, but it might be a little more descriptive.
No less easier said. And of course, no more easier done.
As of late, I have been feeling a lot like I am chasing the sun/Son. Clearly, that cannot be so. My brain tells me that the sun/Son has been chasing me, and so I akwardly cock my head backwards to try to catch a glimpse of the rays but they remain unseen. To me at least.
More often than not I am confused and conflicted. My heart and mind simoultaneously abuse each other. Productivity is low and in the heat of this unruly adventure I sweat profusely...waiting for my deodorant to kick-in...or give out. This is the anxiety talking; causing me to feel like I cannot do enough, give enough, be enough.
Feeling as if I am forever reaching behind my ears hoping to change the tapes that have been playing since birth. They are not good enough. At times I listen. They tell me I'm not good enough and the battle ensues. It is usually easier to listen to them in complacency than it is continue pushing forward for their changing. On any account, I know that they are not the right casettes and so I will keep reaching until I can change them.
I am not afraid though. This is what causes me to believe Your not chasing me. It pushes me to trust that You are in me. Walking with me. I am not alone.
In this moment I pick up a mental stone. No, not to chuck or throw, to lay down. To build a memorial. To remember that there are times when I find peace and ease despite the complexity and pain of the world around me.
My Mother used to say, "Let go and let God."
When I have children I will say, "Let God. Trust God. God will do whatever God wants whether you are holding on or not. Letting go just may make it easier and little less painful. That said, in the end God works for the good of those who love God."
It'll take a lot longer to say, but it might be a little more descriptive.
No less easier said. And of course, no more easier done.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Sometimes it just helps to admit that something hurts you.
If you are anything like me, you try not admit any amount of hurt. Even if you admit fault, you never want anyone to think that they had, let alone have, the power to hurt you.
For 7 years, over 1/4 of my life, I poured energy, time and talent into a community. Eventually it turned into a job, but I worked beyond the job, beyond the pay, beyond the job description, because believed I had found a place where all of my passions (Christ, service, community, community development, reconciliation, volunteerism, the Arts, etc.) could come together for the greater good. I felt so incredibly lucky to have discovered this place at such a young age.
I'm learning that utopia's are never what they seem when humanity is involved.
I left that community by what I considered to be God's leading. That community and that work felt like the only earthly items (if you can call them that) in my hands that really meant anything. Letting those go brought me to a place of such deep brokenness. A brokenness through which I am still digging my way out.
If you are anything like me, you try not admit any amount of hurt. Even if you admit fault, you never want anyone to think that they had, let alone have, the power to hurt you.
For 7 years, over 1/4 of my life, I poured energy, time and talent into a community. Eventually it turned into a job, but I worked beyond the job, beyond the pay, beyond the job description, because believed I had found a place where all of my passions (Christ, service, community, community development, reconciliation, volunteerism, the Arts, etc.) could come together for the greater good. I felt so incredibly lucky to have discovered this place at such a young age.
I'm learning that utopia's are never what they seem when humanity is involved.
I left that community by what I considered to be God's leading. That community and that work felt like the only earthly items (if you can call them that) in my hands that really meant anything. Letting those go brought me to a place of such deep brokenness. A brokenness through which I am still digging my way out.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Silence in the Clinic
I took you to the clinic today.
We sat in the waiting room making small talk trying to ignore our old friend "worry".
Acting like "Worry" isn't staring us in the face.
Acting like "Worry" isn't pressing in on us from every side.
We would be silent but "Worry" can't be quiet.
"Worry" always seems to fill the empty spaces with "Fear".
And so we push the silence away with our own chatter because "Fear" is a friend to no one, let alone to us.
But at the moment silence would be nice.
We spend so much time in chatter that we neglect to make space to tell eachother that we are afraid.
"Fear" may be a foe, but beign afraid is natural when traveling through the unknown.
If we had space to be honest, the silence to fill with the truth beyond chatter we would know that we are not alone.
"Fear" and "Worry" are not our only companions.
"Courage" stands near because despite "Fear" and "Worry" we move forward asking our questions and taking test where the results whether positive or negative leave us with choices and implications that only lead to more of life's complications and complexities.
Thus we stand holding hands with our friend "Wondering" whom often simply wanders through our days and stumbles through our nights.
As we sit together chatter becomes too laborius, "Silence" too complicated to articulate, and the quiet throbbing of our hearts too loud to bare.
Gently laying my hand on your knee I give you a wordless glance that speaks volumes and I leave the waiting room.
Silenced by labels placed over your mouth you are rejected in many places, frowned upon by self-righteous faces.
How do we remain silent in the midst of so much noisy hatred?
How can we be heard when drowned out by so much pain?
Each of us now sit alone with "Worry" running aimlessly from "Fear".
I commit myself to a chair in the front lobby and you to an examination table surrounded by walls telling stories unheard, marked with frames holding confidentiality statements and public service announcements regarding safe sex practices.
We both sit with our friend "Waiting" in a room where time stands still so there's no telling when we will find healing.
So we sit dealing with the lingering pauses of the second hand...
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Time seems like its slowing but silence is just now beginning to get going and in it we start to wrestle with "Reality"
We sat in the waiting room making small talk trying to ignore our old friend "worry".
Acting like "Worry" isn't staring us in the face.
Acting like "Worry" isn't pressing in on us from every side.
We would be silent but "Worry" can't be quiet.
"Worry" always seems to fill the empty spaces with "Fear".
And so we push the silence away with our own chatter because "Fear" is a friend to no one, let alone to us.
But at the moment silence would be nice.
We spend so much time in chatter that we neglect to make space to tell eachother that we are afraid.
"Fear" may be a foe, but beign afraid is natural when traveling through the unknown.
If we had space to be honest, the silence to fill with the truth beyond chatter we would know that we are not alone.
"Fear" and "Worry" are not our only companions.
"Courage" stands near because despite "Fear" and "Worry" we move forward asking our questions and taking test where the results whether positive or negative leave us with choices and implications that only lead to more of life's complications and complexities.
Thus we stand holding hands with our friend "Wondering" whom often simply wanders through our days and stumbles through our nights.
As we sit together chatter becomes too laborius, "Silence" too complicated to articulate, and the quiet throbbing of our hearts too loud to bare.
Gently laying my hand on your knee I give you a wordless glance that speaks volumes and I leave the waiting room.
Silenced by labels placed over your mouth you are rejected in many places, frowned upon by self-righteous faces.
How do we remain silent in the midst of so much noisy hatred?
How can we be heard when drowned out by so much pain?
Each of us now sit alone with "Worry" running aimlessly from "Fear".
I commit myself to a chair in the front lobby and you to an examination table surrounded by walls telling stories unheard, marked with frames holding confidentiality statements and public service announcements regarding safe sex practices.
We both sit with our friend "Waiting" in a room where time stands still so there's no telling when we will find healing.
So we sit dealing with the lingering pauses of the second hand...
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Time seems like its slowing but silence is just now beginning to get going and in it we start to wrestle with "Reality"
She Works in Silence
She cleans his body in silence.
From head to toe she brushes away the dirt of life and hides the visible signs of death with soap suds and water.
Two hours ago he layed here choking, coughing up blood and gasping for air.
19 years old.
Lung cancer left him old and aging too quickly.
His burdened lungs silencing his life's final screams until death quietd his pain.
His family will soon arrive to morn with his decaying body, an empty shell where the only remaining sound is the loud empty space left by his early departure.
She adjust his hair, closes his eyes and places a teddy bear under his right arm before pulling fresh sheets and blankets over his once warm body.
She is selfless.
Moving silently.
Gently restoring his man's frame to resemble that which his family will remember for the rest of their lives.
She watched his screatching death but they'll hold his silent departure in their minds.
She will find loneliness in her memories of him but now works that they may find solitude in his peaceful resting.
Now he looks as if his death came with ease instead of being silenced he appears to have found solitude in silence and peace in death.
The nurse who loved his frame as if it were Jesus' crucified body before her will hold reality alone, accepting a silence that completes the world secretly.
An absense of sound leaving whatevers left after the silence ends to linger.
From head to toe she brushes away the dirt of life and hides the visible signs of death with soap suds and water.
Two hours ago he layed here choking, coughing up blood and gasping for air.
19 years old.
Lung cancer left him old and aging too quickly.
His burdened lungs silencing his life's final screams until death quietd his pain.
His family will soon arrive to morn with his decaying body, an empty shell where the only remaining sound is the loud empty space left by his early departure.
She adjust his hair, closes his eyes and places a teddy bear under his right arm before pulling fresh sheets and blankets over his once warm body.
She is selfless.
Moving silently.
Gently restoring his man's frame to resemble that which his family will remember for the rest of their lives.
She watched his screatching death but they'll hold his silent departure in their minds.
She will find loneliness in her memories of him but now works that they may find solitude in his peaceful resting.
Now he looks as if his death came with ease instead of being silenced he appears to have found solitude in silence and peace in death.
The nurse who loved his frame as if it were Jesus' crucified body before her will hold reality alone, accepting a silence that completes the world secretly.
An absense of sound leaving whatevers left after the silence ends to linger.
Free Write: Silence and Life
These pages are out of order never quite telling the story we intended//And so we supsend our choices afraid to move cause thus far we've struggled to find the groove to our lives animation//So we give in to hesitation//False starts become our reality//Stopping & quitting becomes easier with each misstep that we are tallying//Forgetting that forgiveness often begins within ourselves and then extends to the other//Wanting to love eachother but how can we be lovers when our self-hate we cover with the presence of the other//We become co-dependent security blankets hiding the true depth of our pain//We begin to go insane silencing the stains with shouts and accusations//We silence those which matters because they require us to give up our entitlement for a settlement that leaves space for silent voices to speak the quiet truths that bring volume to our lives//Solitude bringing uninterrupted peace, quite and calm//The difference between being silent and being silenced is the peace of mind that is found in the former over the latter//These moments matter
To Whom It May Concern:
I'm tired of thinking about you//But your lips have stained my senses and your hands have bruised my heart//I'm wondering where to start the end of a relationship that never went beyond your lip service//Never went beyond your lies but sits embedded in my desire for true companionship//I'd cry but I'm not sure why you did it//And so the only person to cry for would be me//And that is too sad//Feeling bad for yourself is an endless pit//An explanation from you would at least give me a reason outside of myself for the water works//But your too selfish and unaware to do me the honor//I suppose that for you ignorance is bliss//But for me it just leaves my nails attached//Scratching the surface of the ways I'm struggling to let you go
I'm tired of thinking about you//But your lips have stained my senses and your hands have bruised my heart//I'm wondering where to start the end of a relationship that never went beyond your lip service//Never went beyond your lies but sits embedded in my desire for true companionship//I'd cry but I'm not sure why you did it//And so the only person to cry for would be me//And that is too sad//Feeling bad for yourself is an endless pit//An explanation from you would at least give me a reason outside of myself for the water works//But your too selfish and unaware to do me the honor//I suppose that for you ignorance is bliss//But for me it just leaves my nails attached//Scratching the surface of the ways I'm struggling to let you go
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