My thoughts follow the pattern of my feet. One after the other, calm and slow—simply leading me in their own direction. I linger in that stillness between the here and now and fond reminiscence. I smile as the sun shines down on me; I can tell it’s just begging me to take my jacket off. Summer hangs on the sun’s rays like a delicate trapeze artist, floating and flying through the air; but autumn races in under the cool breeze and a leaf crunches occasionally underfoot. The crisp smell of the tea I hold warms my heart more than my hands, and I welcome the comfort it brings. As I wander, I think to myself, “This is it; life, in its simplicity, can’t get better.”
I come to a crossroads, but there’s only enough time for one path. They both look enticing: one calls to me with its towering, beautiful trees, the other with its wild, unpredictable, twists and turns. I am caught between beauty and adventure—between appreciating is, and appreciating what could be. I wish I had the time for both, but I must choose one. Beauty, or adventure? Will I relax and enjoy Creation, or will I race forward with blessed imagination as my guide?
I turn back, with a sigh. My true fault is that I am afraid to choose—I cannot choose between beauty and adventure. It would be unfair…and what if I chose wrong? I would never know what the other held for me. So, in my fear, I turn. I settle for what I have and choose to not reach for more. Now every day I will live with my regret.
April 2009
40 posts
Lost little child in search of platinum and gold
Solitary figure ready to put the world on hold
As young as he could stand, he walked out the Door
The cool breeze cuts him, hoping to reveal his core
He prays that at the right time, he will be found
Till then he soaks up the wilderness, and soaks up the sound
Seeking followers but only his shadow trails
One day you’ll hear of his transcending tales
He absorbs the sites, walking miles in all our shoes
Predetermined, he’s following illuminated clues
He’s faced tribulations on a cold trail
He drinks cause his scars still feel the nail
Fell down along the way and came up with snow on his nose
Not his fault, this course has already been chose
Women have entered the scene, but fled daily like the sun
Strenuous task, trying to embrace this enigmatic one
He steps up, but all the doorbells fall on deaf ears
Not accepted, that’s what happened for all these years
A figure promises fortune with the blues
Crossroad carries decisions, he’s not ready to choose
Forever stumbling towards attractive horizons
Ready to embrace those who despise him
Introduction to a pawn shop, notices an iridescent guitar
He bears the weight, the most routine thing he’s felt so far
The guitar fills the holes in his hand
He feels his calling, he knows he’s in demand
Time with a woman spent in the back of a car
The ride stops, he’s been placed at the steps of a bar
Entering the tavern, a stranger amongst the drunken
Oddly familiar, acceptance seems to have sunk in
Eyes fixed on his frame, faint rumors he sold his soul
Plants a foot on the stage, anticipation escapes control
Plugs in his axe, his adrenaline starts to pump
The strum of the strings, accompanied with goose bumps
Wearing a confidence and denim, but no shroud
A realization covers the crowd
“I’ve tried to watch my feet, but still end up dancing on tacks
I’m built for this journey I’ll put you all on my back”
He reigns it all in, then lets himself go
A purple haze surrounds him, the guitar starts to glow
“The first life wasn’t so great, but how about the next?
Take a walk on the water, you won’t find it too complex
I’ve tried it all, and I’m the son of the man
You’ve gone with the flow, let’s attempt to make a stand”
The audience unknowingly clasp their neighbor’s hand
On their knees, baptized by a righteous one man band
“The waves carry hope and the waves carry salvation
Don’t worry about my soul I’ll make a smooth translation
Accept me and shed your apprehensions
Follow closely and witness my ascension”
A fluorescent orb burns bright, the crowd looks away
He is gone, but a reassurance fills the new day
Branding images, both consuming and candid
Who would have thought Jesus played the guitar left-handedSometimes, I want it all,
but this is as good as it gets.
Sometimes, I can remember the nights,
but the memories don’t make me smile anymore.
Sometimes, I think of everyone I’ve screwed over,
and I don’t care at all.
Sometimes, I feel a little bad,
and I drink by myself.
Sometimes, I would give anything to touch her,
but she’s too fast for me.
Sometimes, I want a decent conversation,
but then I realize all my friends are idiots.
Sometimes, her smile lights up her eyes,
and that makes me smile, too.
Sometimes, I wish I didn’t sleep alone,
and I hug my pillow and cry myself to sleep.
Sometimes, I wake up,
and I don’t want to get out of bed.
Sometimes, I put on a smile,
and I face the world.
And sometimes, that smile isn’t fake.
And sometimes, I’m glad she’s in my life.
And sometimes, I know it would be easier if she wasn’t.
Alley Oop, sir.
One Alley Oop too many
and here I go forgetting again.
A leg,
one leg kicking in the air.
My leg,
and I see it.
Again and again.
Pressure’s on,
full-court press,
and it’s triggered.
Again and again.
Two legs,
kicking in the air
and the pressure’s on.
High kicks too.
Again and again.
With a thud
they hit the bed,
a metallic, springy boing
hanging in the air
for a second,
oscillating beyond my ability to hear,
but there still,
there again.
A wiggle-worm,
rolling side to side,
thumbs akimbo,
and it’s there still.
Again and again.
Rolling, rocking,
because when is rolling not rocking,
but really
just a whole lot of it
strung together,
and really
it’s the same.
Again and again.
Chin stretched,
giraffe neck,
and excitement that I can’t even recall,
not a little bit,
but it’s there still.
Again and again.
Thin stuff,
smooth stuff,
soft weight,
soap smell,
like it’s supposed to be,
like it should be,
and it is,
see.
Cause I hear, taste and see it.
Again and again.
How often do we really feel things are owed to us?
I think a tell-tale sign of feeling owed something is our reaction when we don’t receive it.
Somehow, I find myself feeling indebted to at times. People’s respect, being treated fairly, receiving someone’s time…. all these things are ones that I assume to be paid to me upon request. However, it is not only lofty ideas and issues of erect moral treatment that I assume rights to. I also find myself expecting new seasonal clothes, and tasty meals, and big-money pay checks in return of my hard work. Haven’t we all received our pay stub, or checked our bank account, only to see a direct deposit made by our working place that we feel is erroneous. WE KNOW WE WORKED MORE HOURS THAN THAT! WE KNOW THAT CAN’T BE RIGHT! $300 STINKING DOLLARS FOR TWO WEEKS?! THIS IS SLAVERY!
The feeling is familiar to most of us. What I’m learning is this: Our unmet expectations are robbing us of unconditional gratitude. We’re dwelling in a culture that expects a return on (all) investment. And this mentality is monstrous; it is in fact creating self-absorbed monsters.
My first response to why I feel owed to is completely illogical. For example on the topic of freedom, my response to why I feel owed freedom is “Because it’s something the fore founders of this country fought for. I was born in this country, and so our government has protected and preserved this gift. This gift is therefore mine by inheritance.” Inheritance, huh? What about inheriting the burden of my father? The drug and alcohol addition that runs thick in my family’s blood. Shouldn’t I have inherited an addictive personality as well? I haven’t. But what have I really done to inherit freedom? Is this luck? Is this just? How have I contributed to this luxury? I don’t think I have. I don’t really think Whitney has anything to do with what blessing I was born into. Yes, the Lord birthed me into this land. He’s chosen, and now I have received. But have I mistakenly assumed it was out of justice? Justice here defined as: The upholding of what is just, especially fair treatment and due reward in accordance with honor, standards, or law.
Am I getting what I deserve? What do I deserve? Do I deserve His mercy for good works? Do I deserve what I want? Let’s not wrongly assume my Father does not desire good and peaceful things for me. But these things given are gifts, not redeemed IOU’s. They once were not mine.
My Creator is just, but I don’t think he’s “fair”— I’m afraid of what “fair” looks like, in fact. He is merciful and provisional. He gives me more than enough; He is teaching me things by not giving me everything I feel owed unto me. He is teaching me that in fact, I am not owed anything; He is teaching me that in my flesh I am a thief. In my flesh I steal glory that doesn’t belong to me. I deserve death, yet I am given life.
I pray that I may regard blessings as BLESSINGS. I desire to feel blessed instead of robbed. Lord, allow my gratefulness be a testimony that Jesus Christ’s mercy was the verdict on my heinous crimes, and that the Son of God stands between me and eternal fire. Alas, the greatest blessing redeemed.
Today I took the glass away from its window -light…I raised it to someone or no one…maybe God, then I placed it’s cold rim between my thirsting lips and let the halfhearted water spill around my teeth. It was neither warm nor cool…it felt like the colour of the paint on the walls.And walking out I knew that I had accomplished nothing by dropping the glass…I should have set it back where he had left it…But I don’t think that he will come back, so his feet are safe from the shivered glass.My shirts hung so limp on their hangers without my body to fill them. I almost wished that they could fill me. I didn’t take much with me, layered his shirt over mine and buttoned my cream knit sweater…I just wanted to leave and leave everything…I could feel the water pretending to fill my insides as I started towards the door…My tired fingers slid the rusting locks open. I think that in most stories the weeping girls turn and take one last piteous look at the heartbreak they are leaving behind, but I didn’t. Instead I reached down to slip my tarnished key between the worn strings of his guitar. I closed the door…as I would have any other day. For I know that the eyes of our deep beings saw more than could evolve… I believe that God is what we saw…And if we had seen God together than how could we ever be apart.I walked out onto the streets that had never held any destination…and I saw another city, this time not so small and blurry like it was through that glass of water.
Shadows unfolding…
my eyes unfold, there you are.
in that smile to which i am so betrothed.
there you are.
in that silence among friends, as goodbyes reminisce. there you are.
in shards of glass through which your delicate, eternal light gleams… on lavenders sweet lips and the seas gentle fingers, there you are.
when morning dew and smoldering sun pause in divine anticipation of old and of new, there you are once more. and mostly… in that moment of unspeakable joy, when the wrenching pain and the superfluous fountain of bliss do merge, giving testimony to
your undeniable, unfathomable, un-prescribed, and totally unchangeable love…makes its sweet face known once more. oh there you are spirit.
sometimes we are forgetful, sometimes socks are rare, we are reminded of how to follow shadows’ graceful profiles into the light again…
