rainstorms

... and rain. some of the best memories of my life happen in the rain.

(i'm not so sure if anyone who reads this shares my love for large expanses of water, being the lack of comment. i must have a lot of readers from the prairies.

even then, Manitoba has a lot of lakes and rain. and where theres rain, theres sliding across wet grass and getting muddy, and feeling the pain of it all later. and commenting on friend's journals who have done the same.

or, at least there should be).

green tea,
tired eyes. frail dreams,
and grace to try.

its kind of nice when the sun separates from the blue,
and shadows on the trees across the way.
sleepless night,
followed by the thought,
the feeling that somethings wrong.

some old things on the floor, the shelf
new music. fresh life,
and cold in the window, again,
to remind me what life feels like.

cold tea,
tired eyes, frail heart,
(some life i don't want to face),
and grace to try.

-Adam.

running water

...I think that all my best memories have the sound of running water in the background.

...seems like I'm always on my own

this was a good weekend. oh man.

a friend of mine from school came into town, after spending three months in Eurpoe, and another month in Africa. If you can picture it, a bunch of us guys sat in the living room, telling long and deeply inspired stories, with numerous honey lagers.

we talked intently about shalom, and home, and loving God. I think we all share a common idea about how we find shalom by reaching out to the least. shalom exists when everyone has enough.

i woke up at about 10 the next day, to find that the rest of my party had crashed on couches. and we summoned the comfort of the couches, and pots deep, rich, Tanzanian coffee and chai tea with unrefined sugar, writing music and playing guitars (well, i can't play guitar, so i was playing with a round shaker thing). to me this felt like community as its finest, a revival of sorts.

later on that night an even older (as in, how long i've known her), and maybe even more dear, friend showed up, and more music ensued.

i'm starting to wish i had written all this down yesterday, when the thoughts were still writing themselves in my head. today i'm much more tired, and way more overly caffeinated and obnoxious. i still have a lot to learn about writing it seems. either write when the moment occurs, or write long after in a slowed down reflective mood, pulling together a warmth of insights as if they were kept safe in a precious room in the heart. I think its those kinds of reflective times that shed light on how profound a moment was.

i'm in neither of those places right now. if the "standing on a mountaintop" analogy works at all in this situation, i'm climbing down at the moment, the air still fresh in my lungs. and i'm already trying to plan the next great hike in my mind.

listening to : Augustana

(reprise)

i think i was wrong when i wrote "the poor playing home at night". its not the poor who are playing home... its us.

lets talk about it sometime.

frail hands and home, part 2

today at worked i listed toooo;

a) showbread, no sir nihilism is not practical

b) POD, testify

c) ben harper, diamonds on the inside

d) imogen heap, i megaphone

and e) brand new, the devil and god are raging inside me.

It was a pretty epic day, in terms of music. all day long i was in suspense, wondering if my ipod was going to die. it didn't

-----------------------------

today wasn't such a lousy day. for the past month i've been cleaning Montecito Place, the place where most of the guys on CBC campus call home, 8 months a year. my job is to wash the walls, and clean the carpets, in order to remove weirdy looking stains that hang around the walls and carpets, like a creeper at a club.

my roommate shared some insight about this job, which in the past all i have done is complain about. he said that people probably wouldn't notice that the job was done... but they would notice if the job wasn't done.

which was a comforting thought today. rather than think about dorm guys thanklessly scuffing up the nice clean walls and creating questionable stains, i thought more about guys sitting in the dorm rooms reflecting and wrestling with things raised in class...

... rather than being distracted by odd marks, saying "what the heck is that bug shaped thing on the carpet in the corner?!?... it kind of looks like the Eucharist."

so, my job is to get rid of distractions, negative things that interrupt the work of grace. this makes the job less annoying... even so, two months and counting and i'll be finished (insert positive face here).

------------------------------
you know, i realized something today, by one means or another (its a rather long story, filled with irony and conviction... which i can tell you some other time).

when i stay home and worry about my pains, and anxieties, i start to live a really selfish life. i start trying to live by my own strength, it crashes down, and i wrestle with God wondering why it crashed, blaming the circumstances.

then i get too stuck on my own shit, and forget that there is a world of other things to worry about, let alone my own small worries. why should i be so stuck on my worries when there are people who love me and care enough to help me carry them. and it goes both ways.

i'd hate to think that these worries are "all there is in life". and thats a danger that comes up when i live my life like this. i start to think that my immediate worries are all there is in life, then dwell on them completely, wrestling with sadness. but if i get out i realize that there is so much more "out there". i think that the kingdom of God concept isn't something for the "loners", not to say time spent alone, solitude, is not valuable. the concept of a kingdom is for the poor in spirit to come and gather, praying "God, have mercy on us... we're in this thing".

umm. yeah. i feel a little free-er tonight, as i said by one means or another. i hope it lasts more than a couple hours... well, maybe it will if i start acting practically, rather than just talking about it all the time. lets have coffee sometime soon, share some conversation. or maybe, over the phone, since half the population of people that read this, i'm sure, live hundreds of kilometers away.

oh well. much has yet to be said, but enough has for now. goodnight.

simple dreams and grace to try

i think sometime, in the next 5 years, i'm going to backpack across europe. i'll hit up my homeland (italy), check out Iona, and pass through Greece.

but before that i'm going to plan concerts, and try to pick up a minor in worship arts.

we'll see.

unbalance and the discontent thereof

i'm not articulate everyday.
i wish just one good day would last longer,
wish the ratio, the range, were not so unbalanced.
i wish one good morning would last all afternoon.

i was looking back at some old entries, where my writing seems to have a good flow, strong transition, and solid conclusion. it seems like these kinds of entries only show up once or twice a year, when i feel inspired and content with myself, for the short span of a couple hours that i happen to feel good.

i'll slow down, and explain what i'm talking about. since i left high school, i feel like i've only had a handful of "good days"- days when i feel right about myself, and where i feel good about what kind of life i'm in. on those days i feel confident, outgoing, outspoken... all that good stuff that is supposed to be social accaptability.

i can't control which days are good. i mean, i've tried to force good days, but they just turn out awkward. does anyone know what i mean?

i'm always wondering why i can't have more days of feeling good about myself, days where thoughts flow with ease, days where i'm not fighting waves of down-ness. i have to ask God everday, why can't i feel like i'm socially on top of things all the time? why the long periods of time when all i can think about is how off i feel? i hope i'm not alone in this.

houses, part two

made this day to
shelter me.
these days aren't much
like houses...
more like the poor playing home at night
like cardboard boxes and alleyways,
the downcast eyes and complications,
the dreams of dignity and grace.

made this rain to,
carry me.
these lives aren't warm
like tea...
more like the depressed playing security,
more unsure than i've ever known.
the lies that say it will heal with time,
memories yelling, I'm not worth love.

(pain takes more than time to heal,
it takes love and belonging as well).

i don't live like,
(shelter me)
i've got some life.
save some for me,
these houses
aren't much to cover
to keep me safe.

i originally i wrote this poem for facebook, of all things. then I thought of some new lines i could add to it at a conert, and wrote them back of a cheque. i originally thought about reading it in public at my homechurch in nanaimo, one of these days. but, i don't think its going to happen.

anyway, i hope this expanded version doesn't wreck it.

why the fear

i used to be sick of living with people.
well, i guess i still am.
but i can't live alone,
and i can't lie awake,
i guess i'm still the same.

the days used to have this mystery
and i could taste it in everything
the lightest rain,
the water glass.
God, why the constant losing faith?
why the fear of praying anymore?

i used to love writing, time with you,
but today, nothing is the same,
the constant lows,
i don't feel like it,
i guess i'm still the same.

prone to wander, Lord, I feel it

today I listened to "Songs For Christmas" by Sufjan Stevens, in its entirety, while washing walls and 30 year old carpets. It was a good place to be.

Then I felt horribly convicted about all the free music I've been adding to my computer lately. i wonder how an artist would feel about me.

or i wonder, even more, how I'm supposed to feel about myself... as an artist. hmm. i think too much.

Bradley Hathaway, by the way, is awesome in concert. I feel very inclined to learn some guitar, take writing seriously, and go on tour sometime.

sometime. we'll see. All i can really think about these days is how easily i could have a more enjoyable job. and then, i wander back to recognizing how much a blessing the job i have now is- being that it's right beside my house, and it pays well. gr. This is one of those things I've realized in the past year, one of the side effects of maturity-

we will always wrestle with our blessings. we're always wishing that there was more. and maybe thats a side effect of our broken nature- we are prone to feel incomplete.

alas. I feel too down to write a lot today. what a horrible way to feel.

concerts and convictions

John Mayer is pretty spectacular in concert. and, the Gorge has the best acoustics i have ever heard. i could hear every word Johnny Boy was singing, without distortion, in perfect clarity AND i could hear my own voice as i was making comments with my friends

get this- the very first thing John Mayer said was "So, who's sleeping in my tent tonight". Hmmm. Then he said "this venue has a great backdrop. Its like, when you look out at it theres no problems... no problems." I think the highlight of the night was the acoustic set, lit dimly with purple lights, and a dark blue, starred atmosphere.

Ben Folds was a very solid act, as well. It was, i will say with confidence, the best show i have seen in my short 5 years of seeing shows.

I can't wait for September, when i'll get to plan shows. i was considering putting together a small coffeehouse concert, with my housemates. that would be pretty cool. but its pretty much just a dream right now. i dunno. part of me just doesen't feel like putting the effort in. its probably because i was awake for 20 hours yesterday.

PS, i've promised myself that I will write some thoughts down next week, in the form of prose. Though, I've already broken the promise to never let good thoughts go to waste.

until then, waiting for... a lot of things.