Something

Here

Not that much to say
It might not matter anyway
I've got a lot to do
but none of it means much to you
I guess I could get lost
Seems more more and more I'm being tossed
All my edges have been frayed

They say time can heal all wounds.
Its what we're waiting for.
Somewhere to start from.

I've lost my resolve
I'm just not willing to evolve.
This suit I call my skin
Is something I'm fine living in.
Don't tell me its all right
I sleep like I'm dead every night.
Yeah, I could sleep till noon.

They say time can heal all wounds,
but that's a lie.
What do we die from?

By now you might have guessed
That somewhere silent I'm depressed.
I really can't say why.
And if I did I wouldn't cry.
My feelings are all nerves
Electric shocks that I deserve
keep crawling up my skin.

Today is a new day, and I am going to keep busy. I have time, do I have discipline?

I'm not sure if I'm exactly happy to see that I'm not the only one who doesn't update his/her blog, but I am surprised at my own recent desire to make contact. Maybe its just been because I've been stuck in "finals" world, but these days I really miss Sunday afternoons with Youth Group. Gone, they are as a muppet would say.

Still, its nice to have facebook, twitter, gmail...etc. If not exactly communication, they remind me that life continues on for everybody else as well as myself.

In any case, know that I'm thinking of you.

Celebrity, as a rule, sounds holy.
The celestial bodies in dazzling lights.
At once, they are in front of us and distant.

On celestial bodies we see ourselves,
Pattern meaning,
Worship.

Like all things,
Our stars rise and fall:
Every one.
We look for meaning.

Celebrity sounds holy.
Celestial bodies,
Celluloid slides,
Off empty canvas
And onto our lives,
While we search for meaning,
Or proof that there's none.

It's amazing how long I can just wander around on the internet wishing there was something interesting to read before I get my fingers moving to write something. This isn't that something interesting, by the way. I just need to start talking to break the awful silence that develops when I'm simply listless. I have school to go to, work do, lots to keep myself busy. How about you? Are you wasting your time reading this, or did you miss me?

Monday

Back in the States. I have a lot to do. A lot to learn. Time to focus. Sentences short. Coffee strong.

Well, we're heading to London tomorrow. Pretty unbelievable. I think we'll have a good time. I'm ready to set my feet down on a new continent (or an old one, I suppose). I think my greatest secret hope is that I'll learn a lot and it will inspire me to learn even more. I hate when I get lazy. Speaking of which, I have a day to execute. Picking up the cross and all that...

Living in the Moment

I wonder what it was like for Jesus day by day?

As a child, did he know he was a son of God in a much more literal sense than his peers? I know he explained to his parents that he was about his father's business at the temple, but I still think there must have been a gradual acquisition of the truth of his identity. I can't imagine 2 year old Jesus rehearsing his ride into Jerusalem on a stuffed animal, but I can imagine him playing carpenter, warrior, preacher... although his play acting was probably much less futile since he is many, many things: Prophet, Priest, and King.
I'm sure he was different as a child since he didn't have the whole sin problem. However, I don't think many people would have noticed how different he was. When children simply do what they're supposed to and don't show off, they get very little commentary from the community. Can you imagine reading the Bible and realizing that everything in it points to you?
I wonder if Joseph and Mary had to give Jesus "The Sex Talk." What must have that been like? Who's funeral did he first witness? What happened to Joseph?
I know these questions aren't super important but I think they're worth considering because otherwise Jesus can become too abstract. God in the flesh is the crux of the Gospel and the interaction between humanity and deity is important to take into account if it is the life we are to imitate.

Save me

And so, I am sad to discover that I have not had God first in my life. Again, I feel listless, unmotivated. An hour and a half is gone and I have nothing to show for it. I have yet to shower which also seems fitting. I do not like this feeling of separateness unless it is from the world. Now it is from myself and my God. My sins are petty, and I believe more insulting for it.

Here I am weak, Lord. Show me your strength.

Jesus is Mocking You

I was thinking about the fruits of the spirit when another thought crossed my mind.

Jesus thinks I'm dirt.

"And when much people were gathered together, and were come to him out of every city, he spake by a parable: a sower went out to sow his seed: and as he sowed, some fell by the way side; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it. And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it. And other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit an hundredfold. And when he had said these things, he cried, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."—Luke 8:4-8.

I count three main elements in this parable–the sower, the seed, the ground. The sower represents God, Jesus, a preacher. The seed must be the Gospel, the quality of which is not an issue in this parable. Then there's the dirt, but lets not assume all dirt is the same.
There's the wayside, worldly, trodden dirt. This dirt probably believes itself to be open minded as it watches a thousand "isms" wander by. It is walked over and shit on but never moved. It holds its integrity as dirt, and the gospel will not penetrate this person.
The rock is lifeless, isolated, still dirt. Coarse. Removed enough that seed may sprout, but the rock cannot conceive to nurture it. A withered carcass of the gospel remains and the rock cannot even water it with tears.
Among the thorns, dirt forgets itself. It doesn't see itself, it is spent on its own "crop." And though it grows abundantly it does not see that its harvest is worthless and destined for fire. It would gladly take the gospel and work it into its own cultivation plans, not realizing the supremacy this plant demands and resigned to see it choked off by "stronger" crops.
Are you good dirt? Are you removed enough from the beaten path? Has the plow cut you deep and stirred you up? Would you pursue the truth if it were given you? Are you willing to look for a harvest that does not belong to you? Are you aware of your dirtiness?
This is your seed, "Jesus Christ-God as Man, lay down his life for your sake and took it up again. Follow Him."

So, the world is on fire. Is that anything new?
When the flames get close to you

In the dark, we find our answers hewn
From awful trees where saviors swoon

In desperate joy I heave and sigh
And pray to live where others die

Too suddenly I turn. I turn to hope
while through my fingers slides the rope
And moments lost begin to pile
In rivers flooded in denial.

Guh,

Guess I have a lot of things on my chest, but I don't even know where to begin.

So I won't.

I am looking forward to going to the Markoya's in a few minutes. Hamburgers and ice cream are the only thing I want in the world right now. I just got back from a brisk bike ride with Abby. The dog can run.

I won't go into it now, but I am feeling extra awake lately, and its a little bit of scary feeling–a feeling that makes me want to stay in bed though I know I shouldn't.

And that is my startlingly non-specific post!

Almost a sonnet

A poem a day keeps the demon at bay:
The fickle, stubborn thing
Stymies my work until I play–
Impairs until I sing.
The fickle bird scorns every word;
Its hollow breast gives sigh.
I grimace that it has the nerve
To twitter while I try.
Worse than this, I must persist
To wrestle 'neath its feet.
This tyrant smaller than my fist
Provokes my heart to beat.
Soon assuaged, it flies away,
Plotting its return.
And I engaged, trapped on a page,
Would like to see it burn...