Some days are slow going. Like this one. It's chilly so the blood flows slow and thick until you get moving, get your heart pumping. But so much of life does not actually get your pulse up.

So some of us drink coffee. Others drink tea. Some go for a run. Others sit and wait.

I like sitting and waiting, if I have the time. The day, however, is sneaking up on me. The morning is slipping away. The time is coming when I will simply have to rouse myself. There will be no inspiration. Just a lot of will.

But I am cold. That does a number on my will.

Truth is... I do not want to feel today. That takes energy I do not yet think I will receive today. I want to sleep until it is over. If I cannot do that, I want to get through my day as fast as possible and get as much done along the way. I do not want people to ask me how I am because I am afraid I will be honest. And I cannot buoy their inquiries today.

I want some chicken soup and some rest. I want to write my paper before my ideas grow stale. And then I want to lose this day to the thousands I have already left in the past.

Maybe that is grumpiness speaking. Or maybe just honesty. For now, I will suffice it to repeat over and over until I believe these words, "my grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Already I begin to forget and so I begin again "grace is sufficient...grace is... grace..." That's going to be a tough one to remember, but it fits the theme. I don't suppose it should be easy. Today, that is what gets my heart pumping. Just trying to hang on to Truth until I see it.

Morning.

I love the morning.

I say this with my eyes not yet fully open of their own accord. I say this not yet ready to talk to anybody who does not understand the sacredness of morning.

I don't wake up feeling on top of the world. In fact, even this morning I groaned internally when I realized it was 7:00am and then 7:09am (which felt like an hour later) ... and my body was not going to go back to sleep easily. I do love sleeping. It is not the act of waking up that I enjoy in the morning. Rather, it is mornings like this one. I cannot see the morning from my bedroom. But now I see it is one of those perfect mornings.

It is Saturday so the world rests easy. The birds wake up first, after the sun. The air is crisp and cold but the sun shines gently promising it will not stay this way. The space between summer and fall is best, especially for mornings. The evenings hold onto the warmth built up in the day, at least here in the Northwest of the States. But somewhere in the night, a chill steals in and mornings crack open. I wish I had a porch swing.

There is nothing quite like wrapping yourself up in a blanket, bringing something hot to drink, and watching the world wake up slowly. You can hear yourself think in those early hours. Nobody has to know that your thoughts are slow or disorganized. Morning is a good back drop to organize yourself. I feel like my soul can breathe then. Nothing is yet expected of me. It is something I can share with the world before society wakes up. Society with its demands and rules, with its expectations and deadlines.

Let that sleep.

I want to wake to stillness.

I want a space to be.

I want to remember who I am before the day starts and I am too quickly reduced to function and reason. I am so much more than just who I have to be. Everyone is so much more than who they have to be to make it through their day. But it is so easy to leave the rest of you out.

I have felt much like I have been knocked out of orbit while the rest of the cosmos spins quietly on; but I have been sustained this far. Only now, in this space, am I beginning to accept this new season of life on its own terms rather than the terms I thought I could set. That, that is freedom. And so I breathe easy as one who is free, but has not yet forgotten the feel of being bound and the weight of shackles.

I discovered today that my favorite part of cooking is this moment when I put the taste test spoon down and begin washing my knives and stowing the excess spices. There is nothing quite like that exact moment. It's when I have either finally found the flavor I was looking for or else submitted that what I have is about as good as it is going to get this time around. I look forward to the clean up because it signifies a close of the search. I am not looking for something I cannot quite put into words, something I know I will only recognize when it is right in front of me. No. Instead, I have either found it or lost it and I am packing up my tools to try again tomorrow.

other news

At the end of my time set aside for literature, I discovered 1. The Gabriel Hounds was not worth finishing. 2.Through the Ivory Gate was enjoyable though the first half was immensely better than the last half and 3. Bird by Bird is actually a book about how to write...and how to live. It is thus far quite excellent. Therefore, it requires being consumed in smaller bites. So I won some and lost some. Mostly, I am back in school... for better or worse.

Other than that... I was stung by a bee today. Final analysis says that I am indeed mildly allergic: check. (I'll spare my imagined audience the details of my reaction due to its gentleness though odd.) Oh, and I have started writing compulsively again. There should be more poetry soon and less senseless tidbits of a life that almost (stress that almost) makes sense.

classic

Well, I am 0 for 2 on literature. I have read Of Mice and Men and The Catcher in the Rye over the last few days. I did not enjoy either. They were dark and empty. While I understand their title of classics in light of their echoing many modern questions and trains of thought before they came, they are not my questions or patterns of thought. So I am left hoping for more. I like Ecclesiastes. I like the questions it asks. I like the answers it gives.

Anyway, in the next week before I start real school I have some filling up my mind to do. I plan to read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho today. After that, The Gabriel Hounds which is a book that I have carried around with me for about 5 years since a good friend gave it to me just before literally disappearing. I will finally know if it is worth keeping. Then I have Bird by Bird and Through the Ivory Gate.

It is a heavy list for only one week but seeing as my only occupation right now is fixing my couch, gathering firewood and waiting for school to start in a week... I should be able to manage it. It also helps that each of these books is fairly short totaling exactly 948 pages. I can totally do that in a week...if my week goes as planned. This last week I updated my deviantart and got is almost up to speed. It's really quite close. I should be able to get it done during the next respite I have. Which is to say, for the first time in my life, my photographs resemble organization. I wish I could say the same about my music.

See. Give me a week off from class and see what I wont do.

seeing

I was a photographer once.

And once, I was the friend of a girl who could only see the stars. We left each other because I could not live in the dark while she was blind but for the stars.

I have always wished I could take photos exactly as I see them. But I cannot, you see, I cannot. I cannot make that glass eye record my interpretation. I could fit a world onto a blade of grass, but the camera does not see a world. It sees a blade of grass. I can manipulate the frame, the color, the light, the physical context; but that world is only there for those of us who do not need a camera to see these things. I cannot teach that glass eye to see.

It is often like that with people too.

I wish I could make that girl see herself the way I saw her, brilliant and all lit up with stars as if she herself were one of them. I can manipulate the pace, the tone, the words, our physical context; but that brilliant girl can only see the way she always has before. My eyes are as foreign as glass ones. She cannot see the world she herself carries within her.


It would seem, I cannot teach anything to see.

But I have to wonder, does that matter? I would like it to. But the fact is, I keep on seeing just as I have before. There are worlds I study, and those which I myself ignore. And I guess, if I give over teaching, I may be taught how to see.

just once

Let me explain this just once.
I say just once because...
it is hard.
They are hard words to organize,
to make obedient enough
to march out as I would like them to
to bridge the gap between me and...
anyone else.
They are hard words for my audience,
my dear 'anyone else'
to accept, take in, and give shelter to.
And it is so hard for me to send them out
and receive them back
because they were not given room abroad.

So let me explain this just once.

It has become common knowledge that certain clothing brands, food makers, and corporate companies support, use, and abuse modern day slaves. Most people accept this with distant sarcasm with poorly played jokes about sweatshops and children making your shoes in a 3rd world country. And people laugh as if it is funny. But mostly because they believe there is nothing to be done and laughter is the last defense.

And I? I live with a modern day abolitionist. There are resources (like this one) for those who want to ask questions and make little changes to their lives here and there. But it costs to make changes. More often than not, the cheapest option is the option most tied to slavery. (However, the most expensive option doesn't guarantee that you wont support slavery either.) Truth is, it is going to be more expensive to care. While the people around me understand why I care and why I make the shopping decisions that I do, I know that it puzzles people.

Which is to say, I have a very, very tight budget. But I have my freedom. And I happen to believe that God personally looks over my budget. I always have enough. Enough, though, in a sense that would make a lot of people very uncomfortable because it is enough without the comfortable abundance most people imagine. It has been something I have had to think over... is my comfort and my insecurity over my tight budget... worth the continuation of slavery? Not that I take personal responsibility for it as a whole, but my attitude towards it contributes to my culture's attitude and so on. So here it is: it simply is not cost effective to discontinue slavery. That's what it really comes down to. That's what people were worried about pre-civil war in the U.S. and it's what a lot of people continue to say.

While no one will criticize me openly and thus appear to support slavery, I can feel people meeting my budget and my decisions thereafter with confusion. This is not a cost-effective method of buying groceries. And that would matter. It would matter greatly if buying groceries was really my goal. It would matter greatly if I believed that my personal survival was more important than another's. I challenge you to read Philippians 2 (especially verses 3 and 4), to think it over and to let it change you with way Scripture should, and then to build your life.


And yes, most of those who I would love to understand will never read this post, but it makes me feel better.