Being easily pushed or pulled by the demands or expectations of others is much like a branch too easily swayed by the constantly shifting wind; it breaks. Snaps off from its source and dies. Be planted, rooted firmly, in love. Centered in His presence. Be peace and you will have peace.
When the solution is simple, God is answering.
If you could hold it in your hand
Like dust tied down in space
And time, paused for the occasion
The heart of your whole life,
The culmination of what truly mattered in the end
In the right now
If you could, would you?
Stop striving, leaning into the noise, pressing into the rush in that non-thinking way
And hold dearly whatever it is you hold dear?
Can you pinpoint it if you try?
And in the finding, could you revel in it deeply enough to feel alive?
We don’t, that’s my conclusion
Open-ended yet certain
I see a consortium of forests
With no trees
A pavilion of hearts
With no beat
An ocean of eyes
That can’t see
And nobody anywhere is dancing
I want to hold you in my hand
((Click on these words to find it.))
A holy grail, of sorts. Beauty and meaningfulness beyond words. If you know me, you’ll understand why. If you don’t, it’ll have its own reasons for you.
Be blessed, dear friends. I think of you.
My dad: my homeostasis. Gratitude.
The worst-tempered people I’ve ever met were people who knew they were wrong.
I chased myself
In circles, ragged
Eyes hanging so sad
Oh lonesome fool
And one flesh, I became you
Joining in the party of pity
Hanging itself to death each night
Lay me down to sleep
Silence, sing of sorrows
Be them borrowed
I have mastered the art
How can this man I half became
Be still too deaf, too dull
And what of me
Of belief, of wedding
And I, the madman’s trophy
No more than nothing
But once upon a time
It’s not what you look at that matters; it’s what you see. –Henry David Thoreau
I fully knew the probable outcome going into my situation. I forged ahead anyway.
I’m one of those people. I have to experience the truth for myself. If it isn’t firsthand knowledge it doesn’t feel like truth. It feels like secondary opinion.
Head knowledge is different than heart knowledge, and people like me will choose a broken-hearted wisdom over ignorant bliss every time. Without exception.
I’ve worked my way through the mine fields, planting a plant or two and singing my songs when I could. I came into things with a “can-do” attitude… I will leave humbled.
Willingness and ability are only divided by the variable of opportunity, of circumstance. I’ve at least learned that.
I wouldn’t do it again for any amount of money, or any promise of hope. Promises get broken. Money spends. There isn’t much worth gambling on or hoping for in this world anymore. I never really was the betting kind anyway. I simply took chances, and I took them not to succeed but to learn.
Succeeding in learning isn’t fun. For what it’s worth.
I’ve built a monument to tragedy in memory of innocence. I’m not sure which hurts worse: the memory or the tragedy.
Time measures our lives in units of sorrow, in incremental fractions of longing. In the moment, we only see what we can’t wait to have. Afterwards, we only see what we can’t get back. The “now” is a mistress of misery in this unseeing way, and the world –so madly– keeps spinning.