I struggle to write sometimes of that which I know best. Instead I wish to write of dreams, of imaginary scenes, of the tapestries that run through my head in lush depictions of those stories for which I long. And sometimes I actually succeed at hitting the mark and am able to depict the glories for which I wish I was now participating in most fully. But alas, often times my pen runs dry and the prose I affix in permanency seems to be most dull and really a waste of time – both mine and yours, sad to say. What does that mean then? Should I stick to the here and now and write the mundane, the hours that fill my day and the little funny things that pop up in my life that yes of course pop in rhythm with the experiences of you all? I suppose I could. And really I wonder why I don’t allow myself the freedom to wander about and explore the experience of writing which I know. Sometimes I do, do I not? The best writing is that which weaves in the common and familiar and acknowledges the everyday realities which we experience in such concrete ways. And so let me remember that. Yet still if I refuse to write that which burns within and decide to not let my pen linger on those dreams that rise to those mythical images that even now dance before my eyes, then I would be denying the truer realities that dwell beyond the veil. May it never be. May I never focus so much on the here and now that I forget the later and not yet – the truer possibilities that in fact are sure because the faith in which I now abide is not to be gainsaid. So instead let me dance upon the asphalt in this present reality as I look up to heaven opened and gasp, dreaming of the future reality that is mine and yes just possibly yours as well.
Tag: life
Understory
See back and forth swings this pendulum above this weary earth. I wish that I could write now of all the things I’ve dreamed yet for some reason – as seems common to most – my dreams are so hazy now that to write them would be fun for only one person – me. I see them still with my inner eye yet to put them to paper would just bore my readers. Is that not true? How often have you told your dream to friends and been oh so excited to share the mystical reality of your sleep state and yet their eyes glaze over for…well, for some reason dreams lose the power in the telling for the majority of their power is in the gauzy visuals which cannot easily be communicated in words. Most dreams, of course. Sometimes though, a dream is vivid enough and one’s command of language is enough to communicate in entirety the luscious richness of the realities of your mind as it trawls the depths of deep subconscious. This is rare though. I have never quite accomplished it, as much as I wish I could. Speaking of dreams. I oft wonder why it is that we so often dream the same dream again and again. Do we all have a dream unique to us yet somehow we are dense enough it must be repeated? Or is that just me? Or another question. Do you have a dream you remember from childhood, one that happened again and again and yet at some point it stopped and you now feel its absence and it makes you weep for nostalgic loss. Our minds are odd to be sure.
I remember a dream of long ago and though I can’t recall having it in oh so many years, its tracing is still fresh and I still feel the rhythm of its lilt in my mind. I am afraid to try and type the bones of this dream here for I fear it will dry up its verdant wonder, yet I will at least say a few words. This dream that haunted my childhood is one of beauty and motion, adventure and gratitude. Gratitude? Why do I use that word. It springs to my mind when I recall this dream, yet I do not know why. The dream itself is tinged in yellow. Yellow grass, the trees on the leaves tend towards yellow and even the air has a golden tint. The path that lies before me is of course made of dirt that seems less brown and more yellow. But though the predominant color of this dream is determined, the destination is not. In the dream my body is less a body and more a disembodied soul. I rush forward quickly and effortlessly, bouncing. There is such a feeling of bouncing and swaying and unstoppable forward momentum. Ever onward I go, along this path, seeing the yellowed grass bend and sway to my side as the trees laugh in my face as I cruise past. I cannot stop even if I wanted to. Onwards I go. I mentioned the leaves, I will mention again. They are yellow but not just a mass of yellow on the tree. Each leaf leaps forward distinctly, the veins bright brown atop the yellow backdrop. I see the leaves vividly even as I soar past. I suppose I don’t have legs, though if I do they must possess marvelous springs for I do bounce wonderfully. Ever on I go through this yellowed wood. There is perhaps a cabin ahead? At least that is the faint thought in my mind as I rush through this forest, but I do not see the cabin. I do hear the stream nearby and now and again catch a flash that must be the sun off the water. The sun’s light is yellow which I feel I must mention because it fits the theme, yet I cannot in honesty say I noticed the sun in this dream. I only look straight in front of me, all else is peripheral. Onward I go. Why is the light so yellow, why is the air so silent? It is a beautiful dream and though I cannot quite tell you why, I can in confidence say that. It is a beautiful dream.
I do not think I have quite captured the beauty of this dream, which hopefully my hints early on in this essay prepared you for. Alas. I suppose I have only my own lacking literary talent to blame. But I am also secretly happy – selfishly so, of course. This dream will forever be mine. It will not be shared and so diluted. The nostalgic spark that flares within me shall not die. I feel joy as I roll this dream around inside my head. But oh! How I wish I could share the beauty now. Beauty unshared tends to turn a little cold, does it not? I have changed my mind. I wish you could see what I see. I wish you could feel what I feel. I wish the truths that spring to my mind unbidden could also flame into life in your very soul. Maybe that is possible. Maybe you will also dream of spring. Tell me if you do. Or if your mind seems to be too much dry tinder and not enough bright fire, tell me that too. We must meet up over a coffee and discuss. We shall discuss the dying thoughts of winter and the yearnings of the west they stir up. And then yes. We shall talk of spring.
Smokestacks
Another Monday begins. What this week brings who can tell? Or at the least, I can say for certainty not I. A bit of uncertainty, a bit of anxiety as we slide headfirst into April into chaos looming. But is not all of life a bit of chaos, heedlessly unconstrained by the chains that we so meticulously fasten around our plans in order to bring about our own designs? We think at times that if we plan just so and schedule in such and such a fashion that we might then truly have our lives set aright and in smooth and careful steps proceed accordingly to our will. We would be as gods. Yet all of life goes to prove us wrong. We take firm steps and we plan. This is good. Yet on this sea that tosses violently there is only one who can of his own accord calm it. Not I, never I. Is that not a bit reassuring? It is to me and you may wonder why. It is simple – I am every day shown how feeble and frail are my strivings. If the path of my life was up to me alone, I would have good reason to be terrified at the outcome. For I know the deep and lingering darkness in myself as well as the storm that howls round about. It is not a good thing to be left to one’s own devices. And so on this slowly waking morning, I look anew to the horizon grateful for my soul’s own mooring. I trust not in myself for myself, thanks be to God! Instead I trust in the one who never fails and never flees. I trust in Jesus Christ who gave his life for me. This is true and this is real and this actuality of salvation which has occurred is more solid looming in my mind than any imagined pain or hurt. I linger in wondering awe at the foot of this long dreamed hill and watch the flowers grow.
Countryside
Just finished making my little tomato/avocado salad and popped it in the fridge. Now? Well the burritos will at some point be put in the oven for dinner, but that point is still far off. It’s a Friday evening and while it’s been a good week…also been a tiring one. Wonderfully – a quiet night is now at hand! I wish I could say I’d try and write a bit, but not sure it’s in the cards. Perhaps a poem or two, perhaps. And really at some point I should work a bit more on my long prose. But for the now, I’m oh so grateful for a night where I can simply rest in our cosy apartment at the end of a long week. I think a bit of quality classical music is in order and of course a candle. And books? Without question. I’m close to finishing up Mere Christianity – a joy and delight as expected, a vigorous fresh breeze of truth and clarity. And I may also read a bit more of my WWI book – Sleepwalkers, which is inordinately fascinating and I really can’t put it down, though I must at some point in order to make time for book club book – Mrs. Dalloway. I think that last shall be the crown jewel of the evening for there is almost nothing that I enjoy more than to open a new book and sink deep into the world within. Well in actuality there is a list of probably ten or more things that I enjoy more, but I shall not bore you now by listing those off. Let me simply end by saying how grateful I am for a night of rest. And of course – the joy that fills my heart as I thrill at the thought that I am a child of God. Peace, my friends. Peace and love.
The Process
What one does when one seeks to relax says a lot about a person. Or at least, that’s what I’m pondering now as I – in my own way – spend a few minutes sprawling on the couch attempting to put words to page. When one’s creative juices have gone dry and there are no more faded memories fit to be mined, what does one write about? Well that’s when it all goes meta and the wannabe author starts talking about the process of writing. Nothing more boring for the non-author, am I right? But for some of my fellow authors, well…maybe you’re interested in what I have to say? At this point probably not, because I’m just spinning my wheels in this endless intro and you may now suspect – and you’d be right – that I don’t actually have a plan for what I’m writing. And there’s a reason for that.
I most certainly cannot speak for all writers but guess what? I can speak for myself, and so I do. Writing is something that ends in somewhat the same destination. There are words on a page (or on a screen, or on a wall, or various other surfaces, who am I to judge) and these words are presumably an expression of the author’s mind. Yet the process of writing varies in an almost infinite kaleidoscope of ways. The routines and the tics, the little tricks an author does to trick himself into writing something that could be construed as creative are some of the most treasured tools in the author’s toolbox. And I cringe that I have finally used the dreaded toolbox metaphor. Oh may I never do such again.
And I have now wasted another paragraph spinning my wheels. Oh what is this nonsense! I could be smug and say there is a purpose to that and you know what? There is. But I must also be a bit humble and admit that the fact I have spent two paragraphs talking about nothing to illustrate my point is a fortuitous turn of events that I did not realize its ultimate end until now. And that point shall now be illustrated.
Simply this – and I am proud to think that I am alone in this technique but I am sure I am not and I wait for the other writers to hoarde around me and echo that I am not at all unique – I write of random thoughts and tidbits in my brain knowing the writing soul shall not awaken until I give it a good few kicks. Much as one primes a pump, I know that my best output won’t happen right away. Indeed, I can stare at the screen all I want but it is very rare that my best words bloom immediately. Instead, I write. Sometimes nonsense, such as now. Other times, I will visualize a random scene and simply write what comes to me, allowing my imagination to slowly wake and rub the sleep out of its eyes as it looks around and sees what there is to see. But this is the important thing. I write. It is the most basic and excellent writing advice there is and it is preached for a reason. It works. How does one write? You write. It matters not what one writes. Of course eventually one may seek for quality and depth of substance in one’s prose or poetry, but initially? Just write. I stretch my mind and as I write and let my fingers outpace my conscious mind, sometimes I am even stunned at what is eventually resting on the page, alive and vibrant with meaning and truth that I did not myself know was waiting to spring forth from my soul.
I crave to write things that are of beauty and truth. I often fail, it is true. But occasionally I succeed. And I cannot credit my own foreknowledge or depth of craft that I possess in such meagre quantity. Instead, I am grateful for what I have been blessed with, the ability to communicate somewhat of the miraculous, releasing spirit thoughts from my brain to the great beyond, words on a page. If I simply put fingers to keyboard and pound away, eventually some gold emerges from the dross. Not all the time. Not often even. But when from beyond the great sea come words that ring true in a way that leaves my soul in stunned silence at what has been wrought? I lift my eyes to heaven and say a prayer of thanks. For this is how I rest, by pounding out the fresh harvest of my thoughts so that the chaff may be released and perhaps pure silken wheat may be left behind to witness true. I don’t know what it says about me. But in this ultra modern era in which I inhabit, I write to rest. Writing slows my thoughts and reveals inner dreams that soothe and invigorate my very soul. I cannot promise any of these words are or will be of any use to anyone else. But writing them was of use to me. And why not now release them into the wild? These words are not of anymore use to me now – may they run off into the woods and bless who they will.
That Scotland Sky
The day turns just like that. I was wearing my blue and green striped sweater and she had on her dusty pink sweatshirt and we walked side by side. It was so warm and nice she bemoaned. Why must it now be cold? I grinned to myself, secretly – oh who are we kidding, she knew full well – thrilled at this turn of events. Our hair windblown, our shoulders slightly damp from the January rain, we walked hand in hand. I gleefully informed her that due to the fact that it was winter, even though in this southern clime, it was fully right and proper that the freeze should be upon us. She huffed mildly. I would like to say she saw reason at that previous statement of mine, but alas she still groaned that it should come to this. The arctic breezes danced around us as the palm trees tossed their heads in fruitless protest. And in silence now we walked, she and I. Hot chocolate when we get home I asked at last? And then finally those words got a smile. Her eyes sparkled and she said yes yes yes. Homeward we go and I raised my arms in welcome embrace to the wintry blue and dappled sky. The day has turned out rather fine.
Oh Soul, Canst Thou Repine?
Happy Tuesday all!! Figured it’s been a few days since I’ve posted, so might as well put up a quick mid-week update. And sadness of all sadnesses, it’s not even really mid-week. More like…post-Monday. Anyways, I’m sipping on my honey-tinged coffee here and slowly waking up as I prepare for work shortly. I really don’t even have that much to talk about. My upcoming move to John’s place this weekend is demanding most of my attention of late – I’m rather excited for a new place and a new/old roommate! This weekend was pretty fun too, even if I got a severe lack of sleep which rather impeded my wakefulness yesterday! Saturday morning was simply gorgeous here(low 50’s(F)) and so my run in Memorial Park was simply wonderful…it was rather amusing noting how the running population dropped quite a bit, presumably because of the “cold” weather! Anyways, after I’d done my 5.5 miles, went home and then enjoyed my tea and reading time. Later on, went with John and a few of his friends to the Houston Holocaust Museum, where we attended a Bonhoeffer tour. Sobering, enlightening and encouraging all at the same time. Is that possible? I don’t really feel in the mood to describe it more, but oh, how I long for that day when evil such as this is no longer possible.
Saturday night, had a fun movie night with Julie – got to watch some classic Jason Statham in ‘Snatch’ and of course enjoy far too much good conversation and fellowship with dear Julie. Sunday morning…glorious time at church, always. Following, had to bunker down in Starbucks to get my community group prep done(Ecclesiastes 5). After eventually making it home and spending a few hours getting other chores done, the highlight of my week occurred – went to Bethel for ‘Family Worship Night’, where we sang a plethora of gorgeous songs(voted on by us the congregation…I was very proud of all of us for the vast quantity of hymns chosen!!). Worshiping God with uplifted voice and radiant eyes and weeping hearts – oh what a night of sweetest truth and more perfect beauty! I cannot describe further. And so upon ending our night of joy and song, talked with various friends and then made my way to Starbucks for yet more good fellowship with dear friends(Julian, Sarah, Jonathan, Natalie, Vanessa…), talking about such sundry subjects as bad roommates, weddings and dancing, and the fear of the Lord and what this truly means. We actually talked about a lot more too, yet my memory fails me and it is too late here and I have already written too many words. Again though, God has blessed me much with such friends and I dare not complain. Never, never.
Goodbye, friends – I raise my coffee cup in farewell! Peace.
Honeysuckle Memories
Happy Monday, friends! I’m mere minutes away from starting another week of work here, but thought that I’d write a few words as I sit here, peppermint mocha in hand. My mocha is shockingly a venti today – even though I usually try and limit myself to grande, Katie talked me into it(and by talked me into it, I mean she just mentioned it and I crumbled immediately and said yes). I am going to be sad when I move…I love all my Starbucks people and will miss them! Jake, Kelli and Katie were there today, and although I can’t say I know any of them super well(save Jake since he comes to Bethel now and again!), they are simply lovely people and my random interactions with them brighten my sleepy mornings. Alas, I’ll just have to come back and visit this Starbucks from time to time and visit. And oh yes, I’m weird. Again – when I write early in the morning like this, I tend to be a bit less…focused…in my writings. Also – the moon tonight shone brilliantly. Yesterday was the full moon I think, so this morning the light of the moon simply filled the sky with its grandeur. And thinking of the One who placed the moon in the sky – His lovingkindness endures forever!! Now, I’m off – have a wonderful Monday, my friends – may the joy of the Lord be your strength(per Nehemiah…as I read today…the law was being read to all the people and it was stunning to see the people’s response. Grieving and weeping as they heard the words of God. A very natural response, I feel. Yet Nehemiah and the priests told them – do not weep. The joy of the Lord is your strength!! Thus should we remember. Yes, at times as we ponder and think on God’s commands and His words and how we fail so utterly to keep them, our heart breaks and our tears do flow. But ultimately, even through our tears, we rejoice. Amazing love, how can it be, that Thou my God shouldst die for me!?!)
Bread and Wine
Happy Sunday, dear friends!! As is my Sunday tradition of late, I am enjoying a nice dinner(chicken parm, tomato salad, etc!!) while I watch the Sunday night football game(Texans v Colts. Go Houston!!!). Also, today I was beautifully encouraging by the family of God at church. Singing heartily in worship, hearing a powerful message on the Word of God and being blessed by good words from dear friends. May I bless others and honor God in all I do.
Now, my friends, ’tis dinner time. Peace, always.
a Whisper of Sunlight
Hello friends…and happy Friday!!! I am sitting at my desk here at work, peppermint mocha in hand, soon to start actual work. But for now, thought I’d just say hello! It’s been a bit of a slog of a week here, partly due to not feeling physically great. But I shall not complain, for God is good and I am blessed much! Tonight, planning to go over to John’s place to begin prep for my move there in two weeks. So excited. Also – last night – got to talk to Daniel on the phone…oh so good hearing his voice again! I was much encouraged. Anything else going on here of late? I must say no. The regular routine of work and life rolls on and ever on. But just as this morning as I walked to my car and looked up and saw a bright star piercing the veil of clouds…I now lift my eyes and look to that far country.
Peace and love.
Something Weird 