mennonite ways

i tried yerba mate for the first time yesterday. it kind of tasted like a cow. mennonites are weird.

i miss coffee. a lot.

everythings gonna be alright

well, for the past three days i've been sitting in the collgium, extracting pages and pages of my online journals to publisher, mulling over the thoughts with nemerous mugs of earl grey tea.

so i thought it was about time to make some new thoughts. hmm. and now i can't think of anything to say. dang.

i've noticed, a lot of my thoughts seem fragmented, pieced together. i don't seem to have a lot of completed thoughts. it feels like i've wandered my mind for the past week, and i haven't found a deiscernable direction.

so, maybe this is how my life for the past 4 months can be described. running in so many directions, not finding my way. so i think, life is lived one day a time, to use the cliche'. life is lived between the day to day. between the errands we have to run everyday, there is a conviction to live life.

and its the convtions that make us want to do something. everyone has an inherant convition- a call- to action. to end the aids pandemic, to sit beside the poverty stricken in the downtown east side, or the neighbor with a broken family. and i don't think anyone should ignore that call.

there are moments where we can stop and take a deep breath, realize these things, and wonder at the awe of this life.

and it's in those moments we notice the etchings in the drawing, like fingerprints on a clay pot. these are the marks of a creator. look at an pice of art work, and you will notice small things that jump out as if to say "this was made by someone". i think God leaves signs of himself everywhere. we're just not sure how to recognize them sometimes. it is a beautiful thing, to know why we exist. which is something i still have to find.

i feel very "donald miller"ish today.

on a side note, my school is having an "arts and peace festival" next fall, and i might be on the planning commitee. we're (by we, i mean me and my grass roots menno prof) are trying to get shane claiborne to come speak. we'll see.

thought of the day: I need to believe in myself, a little more.

the science of rocks and hard places

I feel for the lady
In the crimson light
With demand on the left
And judgment on the right
Where the lonely ones
Are the most unloved I feel

-ron sexsmith, for the driver

my life is in a suspended state of animation, i might say, if i was a fan of science ficton.

in the same week i did a talk on "self worth", wrote a paper about "divine abandonement", did lights for a play about a broken family, and read most of "to own a dragon"- donald miller's reflections on growing up without a father.

its been way too much to process all at once. the phrase that is making itself most pronounced is "our relationships with our dads can sometimes be projected onto God". i'm not sure what to do with that.

i'm searching for a direction to go with my thoughts. i feel like i dug myself a bit deep. my creativity is taking a bit of a beating. and the fact that every corner of my house is litttered with clutter makes everything all the more joyful. until a certain someone moves out.

so, thats me. stuck between a rock and hard place, until late april. i've taken too much weight on my shoulders, this week.

much farther to go

i slept in for a mere twenty minutes today (well, an hour and twenty minutes, but so what). and, i missed my ride to "A Rocha", a "christian" nature place. so now i have to write up an assignment to make up for my shortcoming.

i felt like crap for a good two hours. then i had some tea, listened to this, and this, and then i wrote this...

todays as good a day as any
stay inside and sip dark roast,
pretend the rain clouds don’t exist,
or learn to acknowledge they’re grace.

todays a good a day as any
stay inside and hold you close,
lend our hands to hiding the window,
or to open it to the cold.

today is as good a day as any
stay inside and watch the world compose.

i think this would be a lot more legitimate if i actually had someone to hold. meh, the mind of a single man with imagination has endless possibilities.

on an unrelated note, a theme that came up in a paper i wrote on psalm 13, and a speech i gave on self worth, both touched on rejection, and abandonment.

so, i've been feeling rejected lately... i don't know. i don't feel like going into detail.

mat kearney tomorrow. i am not going to sleep in. goodnight.

postcards and prayers

i woke up this morning without a prayer,
waited for the sun to break the window,
rolled out, the sky was cold and gray,
its easier to love that way.

when the sky is alive it seems irony,
as if painted for chance, for the moment,
prepared for the off chance i would walk by.

i taped you're postcard to the wall,
above the fireplace, beside the photographs,
with the others of it's size.
my house is less empty with time, and beautiful with age
i'm still waiting for my fears to follow.

i thought about what it means to be a man
and how "to own a dragon".
how do i find what i am in this ambigous life?
let me know by the end of the book.

i painted a picture before i woke up,
it was of you, walking under the clouds,
rain for a empty morning.
formed with the clay with my hands,
the lines and marks on the page
and the colors on the canvas.
to create, is something of imagination,
of deeps sighs and long laments.

i stood at a mirror and saw sadness in the eyes,
and wisdom in the lines of the face,
i hope someone sees the same, today.

(i'm trying to re-discover the root of why i started this journal. all i can come up with is "to write for the sake of writing.")

i'm alive but tell me am i free,
i've got eyes, but tell me can i see?
the sky is falling, and no-one knows.

-lifehouse

laugh it up, fuzzball

(oh han solo. what a man).

i'm supposed to be writing a youth talk... but i don't want to. so, i'm going to write this entry instead.

this weekend i'm a) doing lights for a play, b) in an enviromental issues class, aka, a day and a half of conviction. well, we get to go to an ecological center for class. finally, after four months, and class about nature is going outide. fancy that.

and, i'm seeing mat kearney at the showbox, in seattle. woot. i'm thinking; pike place market, tall dark roast, that park above a the water where all the wierd artsies hang out. and, maybe pictures, if my camera decides to not act like a tool! i tell ya'.

details to follow

prone to leave the God I love

so, i'm sitting lying on my floor, beside a big tv and a bottle of keith's... not for any express reason, other than my computer is being a piece (shutting down everytime i move it) .

and, i like to think that the occasional brew helps the mind unwind, after a long day of deep thinking.

my deep thinking was, as usual, interrupted by a hockey game. grrr. i'm not so much a fan of sunday afternoon sports, as i also like to think that sunday is a good day for refreshing thoughts, in preparation for a long week...

but whatever. having my mind full of useless crap noise is good too. it makes lying beside my fireplace, trying to clear my head, a lot more justifiable.

~

i stumbled to school, hair messy, wearing a jacket that is two sizes two big for me. i remember purchasing this jacked for two reasons; a) the arms were long b) it was ten bucks. vanity vanity, all is vanity.

i was trying to find a ride to church. no such luck. i was half depressed, so i cooked for a couple hours (alfredo sauce and pea soup). then, typed some horribly deep thoughts into a paper about psalm 13, whereas i read between the lines way too much, and come off as a "hey look at me, i'm so witty and contemplative" type. so, pretty much, it's 6 pages of my online journal, in paper form.

well. what does a single, lonely guy do on sunday nights? sits at home and listens to mat kearney, and robbie seay band. i should write a book about this. i'll call it "i love being single".
~
with the last two weeks of this semester (well, its about 3 or 4 actually) i'm looking forward to 2 more years of this... sort of envisioning the wanderings to and from the arms of grace. and the relaxing through the deep sighs and frustrations in between. life is beautiful

ocean breathes salty

heard the same,
songs that never sing me to sleep.
replayed the words, you weren't home,
used to call you with disdain.

nothing left to start the days,
heard the same.
nothing to eat, no money to buy,
i'd call with admiration, if you were still around.

left myself open to assumption,
afraid of my honesty.
can't afford to be alive,
running out age old regrets.

ocean gone, don't like my days
trade the water for a traffic life.
so fast i've lost direction.
heard the same voice in the walls,
waking up with emptiness.

when i have nothing to say

...but I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
i will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.

-psalm 13

i wrote this journal entry, back in october . i'm going to use this in my Christian Imagination final, and make tony funk love me (more... and in a brotherly sense).

1) I journal when i have nothing to say, just so i can write.
2) i fear that i'm not interesting
3) art is all i have, sometimes
4) when it rains, it pours.

in the autumn, things change quickly. green leaves turn brown, soft grass turns cold and rigid. skies turn grey, and people furrow their brows at the chilling wind. some things change in the fall. and some don't.

like Christ. i realized something. that Christ is the one constant in my life, one thing that never changes... one thing that never succumbs to cold or age. what does change is how i relate my faith, to life.

i relate to Christ when i write. i've always seen writing as a literary art form. and, i've only recently seen art as a means of expressing ones soul... a deep longing to come to terms with ones own humanity. a way of trying understand why we are made the way we are.

sometimes art is all we have. especially in unsure times. times when we are surrounded by doubt and turmoil. or even, more realistically, surrounded by a visible lack of hope.

some art can't can't be explained. at it's heart, art is impractical- it's not supposed to make a lot of sense. sometimes art is not something you try to create. it just happens. it's something that sits lingers in the soul, and waits for it's proper outlet.

confession- i find it hard to be honest with myself. being honest with others, is easy.

when i find my way

a spring break journal. sunday 1:15 pm

i made myself a chili for lunch, and for some reason... it is ridiculously freaking spicy!!! ARG! i have yet to master the fine art of chili, it seems.

so, now i sit, my face on fire, finishing a paper for "environmental issues". with this paper i'm trying to build a "theology of home". a theology of home implies the cliche' "live locally, think globally" or something like that. i think if we are to start making a global impact (which is important, not just because al gore said so), we have to start at home.

and what is home? is it limited to the house we live in? if you call a house "home" you also have to consider everything in the community, region, world around you that contributes to home.

anyway, frick, i need to get this paper done. 1 more page. come on. please argue with me, because my ideas are not solidified. they are thinking out loud, trying to find answers.

in other news, this is the last day of spring break. sigh. the music that has defined my week has been sufjan stevens. whereas the movies that have defined my week (aka, made me laugh, cry, and question the human condition)- pan's labyrinth and stranger than fiction. good stuff.

another chapter of life, that i turn to leave behind. i'll have a lot to think about when i'm writing my papers and speeches this month. oh! if anyone has insight about "faith as a journey" or "how one finds self worth" feel to share.

-so, another day to spend alone. i'll leave word when i find my way.

letters in the snow

Sometimes the night was beautiful
Sometimes the sky was so far away
Sometimes it seemed to stoop so close
You could touch it but your heart would break

- rich mullins

a spring break journal. thursday, 11:12 pm

it snowed yesterday. i enjoyed it mostly late in the evening, tracing letters on the ground near my steps. i was thinking about doing some more snow writing tomorrow, using small lines from robert frost poems. oh the irony.

then, i actually tried to be productive today, walking to the store to buy groceries and typing homework (a total of 1 page). the groceries i bought were for a small feast, my version of "babette's feast". dinner was lasagna, cooked with a wine/mushroom sauce instead of tomato, and sweet potato wedges. oh, and this crappy australian wine. that, i have decided, is the last cup of wine i will have for a long long time.

my feast wasn't as expensive, or as captivating, as babette's... but it worked. i'm going to try and be more productive again tommorow.

in other news, i'm trying to conjure up thoughts on "self worth" for a youth talk. where does one find self worth?