"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, day and night, to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting." --E.E. Cummings."
I find nothing more to add. Thank you E.E. Cummings. You have bequeathed a sense of solidarity upon my soul today; if my soul were a color it would be a spring green of caprice, if my ears have been deaf I must unplug the headphones, what my eyes have not seen I've covered with my hands and habits of ignorant exclusion...so take those hands and part them like my heart, make me open to accept, cherish and love without abandon: I am whole.
Monday, April 27, 2009
One Step Forward... Two Steps Back
Here lately I've been feeling guilty for not writing like I used to, so I'm posting a few of my blogs from myspace that are pretty darn applicable to my current thoughts and musings...This one was inspired by a Katie Herzig song called "I will Follow." A pretty darn-good song. I really appreciate music that gets my mind rolling. Anyway...Hope you enjoy...hope it gets your mind rolling. And I enjoy feedback, so don't be shy.
One step forward, two steps back.
Winter comes and fall fades.
Lovers dream and reality cleans.
I am walking, I am sitting, I am pondering, I am sleeping.
One step forward, two steps back.
I am waiting, I am watching.
I will follow.
I sit backwards on my unmade bed. Home for the first time in two months. It's lovely indeed. So funny how I forget so easily that this is my favorite place. Being in the vicinity of those I trust is not only calming, but simply overall restoring to my very soul.
Feeling lost is an easy thing to do. I've decided it's for the lazy. Sometimes it's for me. But not ultimately. I apparently like to find myself; comtemplation through journaling, writing seemingly empty, random, though soul searching lyrics on a lazy winter Sunday afternoon, all-the-while struming repetative chords on my guitar for hours on end. Reading. Painting. Little artsy things that take up my time, fill my mind, and steal my thoughts from things that matter like helping others.
Some how I continually am bombarded by some thought that I must find out who I am before I can really give myself to others.
I'm pretty sure this is a lie.
I'm pretty sure I should forget myself. Lose myself. Plunge myself into the depths of worldly waters, taking oxygen for those without a line connected to the surface of the cross covered with love enough to breath into their bluing, cold lips. Lips they've tried to warm by other means. My own lips have been cold. My fingers numb from the continual strumming of chords to find my soul.
I have found it. Listen to the crys of others, feel their pain for a moment, forget the apathetic stance of the traditional Christian face that the world so often views, the one who claims unconditional love, while viewing the conditions,double-checking the list to see if it's ok...just give it to them.
JUST GIVE IT TO THEM. TO ME. TO YOU. TO THE DIRTY. THE EMPTY SOULS, THE FULL ONES, THE UNLOVED, UNCLAIMED. OLD. YOUNG. STINKY.
TO THE ONES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.
Am I uncomfortable because I don't think that I can love them, or is it because I know I can, but it will lead me out of my little safe corner? Is it because it requires more than one of my smiles?
JESUS. FILL ME.
May YOUR love fill me. SHOW ME WHO TO GIVE IT TO TODAY.
One step forward, two steps back.
Two steps forward, no looking back...
One step forward, two steps back.
Winter comes and fall fades.
Lovers dream and reality cleans.
I am walking, I am sitting, I am pondering, I am sleeping.
One step forward, two steps back.
I am waiting, I am watching.
I will follow.
I sit backwards on my unmade bed. Home for the first time in two months. It's lovely indeed. So funny how I forget so easily that this is my favorite place. Being in the vicinity of those I trust is not only calming, but simply overall restoring to my very soul.
Feeling lost is an easy thing to do. I've decided it's for the lazy. Sometimes it's for me. But not ultimately. I apparently like to find myself; comtemplation through journaling, writing seemingly empty, random, though soul searching lyrics on a lazy winter Sunday afternoon, all-the-while struming repetative chords on my guitar for hours on end. Reading. Painting. Little artsy things that take up my time, fill my mind, and steal my thoughts from things that matter like helping others.
Some how I continually am bombarded by some thought that I must find out who I am before I can really give myself to others.
I'm pretty sure this is a lie.
I'm pretty sure I should forget myself. Lose myself. Plunge myself into the depths of worldly waters, taking oxygen for those without a line connected to the surface of the cross covered with love enough to breath into their bluing, cold lips. Lips they've tried to warm by other means. My own lips have been cold. My fingers numb from the continual strumming of chords to find my soul.
I have found it. Listen to the crys of others, feel their pain for a moment, forget the apathetic stance of the traditional Christian face that the world so often views, the one who claims unconditional love, while viewing the conditions,double-checking the list to see if it's ok...just give it to them.
JUST GIVE IT TO THEM. TO ME. TO YOU. TO THE DIRTY. THE EMPTY SOULS, THE FULL ONES, THE UNLOVED, UNCLAIMED. OLD. YOUNG. STINKY.
TO THE ONES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.
Am I uncomfortable because I don't think that I can love them, or is it because I know I can, but it will lead me out of my little safe corner? Is it because it requires more than one of my smiles?
JESUS. FILL ME.
May YOUR love fill me. SHOW ME WHO TO GIVE IT TO TODAY.
One step forward, two steps back.
Two steps forward, no looking back...
A Steady Death
Not sure what to call this one...It started out as a "would-be" poem...however...It kinda became its own thing...and I'm pretty-sure I was mad or along those lines when I wrote it...not that you needed to know that :] But yeah...this one's older too...
(A death.) Slow in its wake, yet steady in its canter, a grey mass subdues a relationship long overdue; nibbling at first upon the edges of conversation, savoring the destruction in each bite. Correspondence t'would grow stronger if not doused by careless neglect. Worlds with much in common, dance about different orbits, left to enjoy only the shadows of their being. One world full of hunger yet flowing with much to give; the other is preoccupied, focused on the tasks ahead.
How often they do pass without meeting the others gaze, missing opportunities to find their common ways. Two worlds spinning to their unknown destinations shall continue in their way, missing one another, forgetting what to say; once their conversations, mutual and free from care, now stumble awkwardly forward, dying in mid-air.
Breathing becomes shallow as the connection grows in distance. Pieces of their worlds falling from their grasp, bathing in their own light wearing shallowly chosen masks. With every step apart, their dance grows slightly weaker, declining to admit a friendships looking bleaker. Strong-willed, self-centered adamancy places their circles in the past. A looming fortress of glass walls will to be broken, yet the worlds spin on, silently unspoken.
These two, allowing ignorance to fill their ever widening oceans, drown slowly as they sink beneath their own cold, lonely depths, swallowing the last of happiness past. No fingers dare unclasp the corset smothering their final gasps. A glance missed a word unheard, a greeting destined to fall on deaf ears; the steady death of a relationship; the transparent promise of life. A woven basket for each heart, covers them from the gaze of others; two worlds slipping into the orbits of the worlds around, never to dance again.
(A death.) Slow in its wake, yet steady in its canter, a grey mass subdues a relationship long overdue; nibbling at first upon the edges of conversation, savoring the destruction in each bite. Correspondence t'would grow stronger if not doused by careless neglect. Worlds with much in common, dance about different orbits, left to enjoy only the shadows of their being. One world full of hunger yet flowing with much to give; the other is preoccupied, focused on the tasks ahead.
How often they do pass without meeting the others gaze, missing opportunities to find their common ways. Two worlds spinning to their unknown destinations shall continue in their way, missing one another, forgetting what to say; once their conversations, mutual and free from care, now stumble awkwardly forward, dying in mid-air.
Breathing becomes shallow as the connection grows in distance. Pieces of their worlds falling from their grasp, bathing in their own light wearing shallowly chosen masks. With every step apart, their dance grows slightly weaker, declining to admit a friendships looking bleaker. Strong-willed, self-centered adamancy places their circles in the past. A looming fortress of glass walls will to be broken, yet the worlds spin on, silently unspoken.
These two, allowing ignorance to fill their ever widening oceans, drown slowly as they sink beneath their own cold, lonely depths, swallowing the last of happiness past. No fingers dare unclasp the corset smothering their final gasps. A glance missed a word unheard, a greeting destined to fall on deaf ears; the steady death of a relationship; the transparent promise of life. A woven basket for each heart, covers them from the gaze of others; two worlds slipping into the orbits of the worlds around, never to dance again.
Half-Naked
Ever had that feeling creeping through your body that causes your entire being to struggle against spontaneously saying or doing something? Something that makes perfect sense to you at that very moment, yet your brain, however much it yearns for you to carry it out, still resists the urge. A strong impression to climb that tree you just passed...cause you can? To tell someone you care for them or do something to help them, ignoring the stares. Yearning for a moment to sing the song in your head, to dance nomatter who's around, to kick your feet up on the desk and yawn, or rudely roll your eyes? Saying all the silly things that come to mind precisely the moment of their birth, makeing those around you laugh regaurdless of the judgements looming over you, ready to burn with intimidation, deeply engraving scars upon your skin.
The feeling of life...Living as a smooth, transparent piece of glass, polished by the sand around, yet valuable to the smallest observer. Making life more enjoyable for all, more valuable for lack of worry over your own self-image. To KNOW YOUR VALUE. To be assured of it. Living a breathing reality of life made better because you enjoy the simple things and say all the quirky words; those that previously rolled around in your mouth til you believed they became the pearls expected by the world.
Sure we walk around many times in a half-naked state. Momentarily daring to acquiesce to those brief moments of spontaneous self-expression. Allowing our skin to enjoy the essence of a sentence not contemplated, but original. Yet, we continually attempt to moisturize our elbows with "high quality, expensive words" we believe to be nourishing our delicate epidermis. Do our our egos continually thirst? This method of shallow assurance may work for some at times, however, my soul feels the silent aknowledgement of a universal desire. I believe there is, in every identity, a yearning to use something more unique, more earthy and natural on our skin. Inside we can sense that, like hemp shampoo, that original, unexpected, raw phrasing, will lather ohh so much better then the thirty dollar stuff, worded so nicely outside the bottle that everyone else uses.
When will we learn that walking around completely naked is ok. Not worrying what everyone else will think. We all want to do it; at some time or another. We envy those that do, yet shun them at times for their bravery. I want that transparency for my life. I don't want to be the "wanna be hippie", the "I wish I could've said that" saint. I don't want to be luke warm, afraid of germs, of sickness, of the trials of those I yearn to reach out to; to be complete in my skin, without worry, without a mask. If the water must boil for the coffee to brew, then it's time to boil that water and quit drinking tepid cups of weak coffee and using imprudent amounts of pricey lotion simply because it's expected. There. I hear the coffee boiling, and I left my clothes at home.
The feeling of life...Living as a smooth, transparent piece of glass, polished by the sand around, yet valuable to the smallest observer. Making life more enjoyable for all, more valuable for lack of worry over your own self-image. To KNOW YOUR VALUE. To be assured of it. Living a breathing reality of life made better because you enjoy the simple things and say all the quirky words; those that previously rolled around in your mouth til you believed they became the pearls expected by the world.
Sure we walk around many times in a half-naked state. Momentarily daring to acquiesce to those brief moments of spontaneous self-expression. Allowing our skin to enjoy the essence of a sentence not contemplated, but original. Yet, we continually attempt to moisturize our elbows with "high quality, expensive words" we believe to be nourishing our delicate epidermis. Do our our egos continually thirst? This method of shallow assurance may work for some at times, however, my soul feels the silent aknowledgement of a universal desire. I believe there is, in every identity, a yearning to use something more unique, more earthy and natural on our skin. Inside we can sense that, like hemp shampoo, that original, unexpected, raw phrasing, will lather ohh so much better then the thirty dollar stuff, worded so nicely outside the bottle that everyone else uses.
When will we learn that walking around completely naked is ok. Not worrying what everyone else will think. We all want to do it; at some time or another. We envy those that do, yet shun them at times for their bravery. I want that transparency for my life. I don't want to be the "wanna be hippie", the "I wish I could've said that" saint. I don't want to be luke warm, afraid of germs, of sickness, of the trials of those I yearn to reach out to; to be complete in my skin, without worry, without a mask. If the water must boil for the coffee to brew, then it's time to boil that water and quit drinking tepid cups of weak coffee and using imprudent amounts of pricey lotion simply because it's expected. There. I hear the coffee boiling, and I left my clothes at home.
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