So I found this very old, somewhat ominous gem while traipsing lazily through my poetic past...and I just had to share it. It's from my creative writing class my sophomore year, & I believe the assignment was to use the refrain "You'll get cold"...I kinda like the morbid, yet vague approach I took for that. Haha.
Twilight
The light will set
Across the water
Behind the waves
Beyond the ocean
And that horizon
Will then grow darker
And fill the earth
With shades of gray
The stars will appear
As the sun falls away
Elongated shadows
And purple hues
You’ll get cold
As the darkness reaches you
You’ll get cold
As it touches your skin
You’ll get cold
When the light, it leaves you
And you’re left by yourself again.
The light will leave
And watch you stumble
It won’t return
Pale and grasping air
The hope postponed
Your heart unfeeling
Selfish, closed
Your mind unclean
The bright sparkle
Will then extinguish
Behind your eyes
Now lightless, consumed.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Destination: Beautiful.
Sometimes I like to see songs as conversations.
"Sun"
Mae
"I'm a mess, I guess.
It's what I've asked for; it's what I've needed.
Well, you know me better than that,
or at least you did, then something happened.
But once again, well, something's happened.
The confidence you held in us is
the rope we almost hung ourselves with.
At times I wonder if we really took the steps
to break right through it.
I know that there were better days -
but to see the light and to feel the rays?
Life was always back and forth
and we were idling, or making useless progress.
Waiting for the rain to stop,
destination: beautiful.
Seems that I'm still waiting for the sun.
Someday we'll come back to us. If you're willing, let it go.
Why won't you just let this be your sun?
It seems like yesterday we had the world our way,
but some (whoa) say we're headed for destruction..."
"I'll ask you, 'What in the world should we do?'
This light is green; our break is through.
Are we not trying? Or we're trying too hard...
Well, you know I never want to miss,
I hold on tight and reminisce.
But it's bittersweet to me.
When time stands still as it's trapped inside
the letterbox you gave back to me.
But I'm the one who keeps on reading.
But I'm the one who wants to let it go.
I'm the first to speak
and you're the last to know.
Another scene that we're creating;
I need to know if we're still making useless progress.
Waiting for the rain to stop,
destination: beautiful.
Seems that I'm still waiting for the sun.
Someday we'll come back to us. If you're willing, let it go.
Why won't you just let this be your sun?
It seems like yesterday we had the world our way,
but some (whoa) say we're headed for destruction..."
"Sun"
Mae
"I'm a mess, I guess.
It's what I've asked for; it's what I've needed.
Well, you know me better than that,
or at least you did, then something happened.
But once again, well, something's happened.
The confidence you held in us is
the rope we almost hung ourselves with.
At times I wonder if we really took the steps
to break right through it.
I know that there were better days -
but to see the light and to feel the rays?
Life was always back and forth
and we were idling, or making useless progress.
Waiting for the rain to stop,
destination: beautiful.
Seems that I'm still waiting for the sun.
Someday we'll come back to us. If you're willing, let it go.
Why won't you just let this be your sun?
It seems like yesterday we had the world our way,
but some (whoa) say we're headed for destruction..."
"I'll ask you, 'What in the world should we do?'
This light is green; our break is through.
Are we not trying? Or we're trying too hard...
Well, you know I never want to miss,
I hold on tight and reminisce.
But it's bittersweet to me.
When time stands still as it's trapped inside
the letterbox you gave back to me.
But I'm the one who keeps on reading.
But I'm the one who wants to let it go.
I'm the first to speak
and you're the last to know.
Another scene that we're creating;
I need to know if we're still making useless progress.
Waiting for the rain to stop,
destination: beautiful.
Seems that I'm still waiting for the sun.
Someday we'll come back to us. If you're willing, let it go.
Why won't you just let this be your sun?
It seems like yesterday we had the world our way,
but some (whoa) say we're headed for destruction..."
Friday, July 9, 2010
Promises, Promises
Sunday, July 4, 2010 was a great, great day in history. Firstly, it was a national holiday, etc. etc. But the day was just so completely blessed from the very beginning. God showed His hand in so many ways, and I could almost literally feel the Spirit moving in the lives of everyone around me.
At church, I got to see my high school friends freshly returned from their week-long Christian conference, closer to God and each other. I got to witness the baptisms of two good friends of mine - sisters - and that was an amazing privilege. I went to a friend's house for Independence Day celebrations, and learned of another incredible culmination/next step of God's plan for people I really care about, and that was such a blessing. I was so filled with joy that I didn't know what to do with myself!
The weather was one of my favorites: late afternoon, sprinkling lightly every now and then, big epic clouds filling the sky, the sun still determinedly shining brightly through. Perfect rainbow weather, I thought, but there was no way we'd actually see one when we were surrounded by tall trees and houses.
Then the rain faded out, and I saw it: a full rainbow was arching over a clump of trees, right in direct view of everyone in the large backyard. It was bright, it was clear, and perfectly positioned for us. I put my sunglasses on for contrast, and I saw the faint outline of a double rainbow above it, invisible to the naked eye, to anyone not looking for it.
Maybe it's my Christian school upbringing, but I've always seen rainbows as a sign of God's promises (aka Noah's Ark). To see one on this day, after everything else, felt like a kiss from heaven...like God was saying, "Yeah, that was all me. Isn't it beautiful?" "Things can change if you trust me." "Life is beautiful because I make it so." "It's always the clearest and brightest after dark uncertainty." and a bajillion other symbolic, wonderful things that I don't even know yet. The rainbow stayed for a good half an hour, and I sat there and attempted to soak in His overwhelming goodness.
My friend Avery posted this video on my wall as half joke, half admiration for how completely overwhelmed this guy was at the rainbow in front of his house on Yosemitebear Mountain. Honestly, I think it's a universal thing to feel so incredibly awed by the beauty that a rainbow like this brings, no matter who we are. It kinda brings us closer to God whether we want it to or not...whether we recognize it as His signature sign of blessing and promise or as a mere refraction of light.
This guy just can't get over the blessing he's been given right in front of his eyes ("Why me? what does it mean? A full double rainbow in my front yard! To watch...what does it mean??"), and while his response is somewhat repetitive and can seem like an overreaction, I encourage you to watch the whole thing. I think the strength of his reaction makes a great point: beauty like this has the power to move us to tears...and to bring us to our knees with thanks.
At church, I got to see my high school friends freshly returned from their week-long Christian conference, closer to God and each other. I got to witness the baptisms of two good friends of mine - sisters - and that was an amazing privilege. I went to a friend's house for Independence Day celebrations, and learned of another incredible culmination/next step of God's plan for people I really care about, and that was such a blessing. I was so filled with joy that I didn't know what to do with myself!
The weather was one of my favorites: late afternoon, sprinkling lightly every now and then, big epic clouds filling the sky, the sun still determinedly shining brightly through. Perfect rainbow weather, I thought, but there was no way we'd actually see one when we were surrounded by tall trees and houses.
Then the rain faded out, and I saw it: a full rainbow was arching over a clump of trees, right in direct view of everyone in the large backyard. It was bright, it was clear, and perfectly positioned for us. I put my sunglasses on for contrast, and I saw the faint outline of a double rainbow above it, invisible to the naked eye, to anyone not looking for it.
Maybe it's my Christian school upbringing, but I've always seen rainbows as a sign of God's promises (aka Noah's Ark). To see one on this day, after everything else, felt like a kiss from heaven...like God was saying, "Yeah, that was all me. Isn't it beautiful?" "Things can change if you trust me." "Life is beautiful because I make it so." "It's always the clearest and brightest after dark uncertainty." and a bajillion other symbolic, wonderful things that I don't even know yet. The rainbow stayed for a good half an hour, and I sat there and attempted to soak in His overwhelming goodness.
My friend Avery posted this video on my wall as half joke, half admiration for how completely overwhelmed this guy was at the rainbow in front of his house on Yosemitebear Mountain. Honestly, I think it's a universal thing to feel so incredibly awed by the beauty that a rainbow like this brings, no matter who we are. It kinda brings us closer to God whether we want it to or not...whether we recognize it as His signature sign of blessing and promise or as a mere refraction of light.
This guy just can't get over the blessing he's been given right in front of his eyes ("Why me? what does it mean? A full double rainbow in my front yard! To watch...what does it mean??"), and while his response is somewhat repetitive and can seem like an overreaction, I encourage you to watch the whole thing. I think the strength of his reaction makes a great point: beauty like this has the power to move us to tears...and to bring us to our knees with thanks.
A Day-Brightener :)
Story of my life? In a simple, homey, chill way...yeah, actually. :) This song has this kind of understated, reflective hope that just makes me feel like life is good, and that everything's gonna be okay. It's simultaneously wistful and reassuring; I don't know how he does it. I'm telling you, I'm becoming a fan of this kid! Haha. Anyhow, I hope this brightens up your day as much as it did mine. (I recommend listening to it for full effect.) If your day was already happy, well...I hope this just makes it even better! =]
"Sunny Afternoons"
Chase Coy
1, 2, 3, 4:
The winter days have gone away
and carried with them all the shades of gray.
I am waking up, and I just realized
the world is waking up with me.
The golden sun starts shining through my window,
and I just enjoy the view.
I say goodbye to snowy skies
and say hello to sunny afternoons.
Days like this make me miss the summer evenings.
We were younger then,
and everything was easy.
I just want them back,
but you can’t relive the past;
I will never have them back again...
but I’m alright with that.
Those lonely days have gone away
and carried with them all the memories.
I am starting over, and I just realized
the world is starting over with me.
The golden sun starts shining through my window,
and I just enjoy the view.
I say goodbye to cloudy skies
and say hello to sunny afternoons
Days like this make me miss the summer evenings.
We were younger then,
and everything was easy.
I just want them back,
but you can’t relive the past;
I will never have them back again...
but I’m alright with that.
"Sunny Afternoons"
Chase Coy
1, 2, 3, 4:
The winter days have gone away
and carried with them all the shades of gray.
I am waking up, and I just realized
the world is waking up with me.
The golden sun starts shining through my window,
and I just enjoy the view.
I say goodbye to snowy skies
and say hello to sunny afternoons.
Days like this make me miss the summer evenings.
We were younger then,
and everything was easy.
I just want them back,
but you can’t relive the past;
I will never have them back again...
but I’m alright with that.
Those lonely days have gone away
and carried with them all the memories.
I am starting over, and I just realized
the world is starting over with me.
The golden sun starts shining through my window,
and I just enjoy the view.
I say goodbye to cloudy skies
and say hello to sunny afternoons
Days like this make me miss the summer evenings.
We were younger then,
and everything was easy.
I just want them back,
but you can’t relive the past;
I will never have them back again...
but I’m alright with that.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
I mayyy or may not be in love.
Okay, not really. I just discovered a new musical interest...but I mean, COME ON. Just look at him. Or better yet, listen to his stuff. :)
Chase Coy, age 19. At first, I was pretty critical of his apparent Drake Bell/Adam Young combo imitation method, but upon investigation, I found that he is
a) distinctive enough, both in sound and personality
b) freaking adorable
c) a HUGE Adam Young fan (and rightfully so)
d) personally invested in both his music and his fans,
e) underground enough not to be obnoxious, and
f)...did i already say adorable?
Granted, 90% of his fans are girls because...well, obvs. But he's no Biebster; he's got real talent, and what I believe to be a recognizable songwriter's soul. Something about the peaceful, wistful nature of his music makes me feel like taking the scenic route, doing things the slow and steady way...taking time to sort out what's really important, what I really want. It feels and sounds like going home - being home, with a familiar type of reflection associated with sitting on one's front porch and looking out at the sunset. His thoughtful melodies make me picture open fields, the sun on a whitewashed railing, dusty shoes by the stairs...calming, homey things. Though very similar to Adam Young in regards to making most of his music out of his parents' basement, he definitely has a uniqueness about him that's pretty intriguing, to me at least.
This is what he has to say about his new album, "Picturesque":
"This record has turned out to be more than I ever expected it to be. After stepping out of my basement, I embarked on a journey that has helped me grow both as a person and as a musician; I have met new friends, seen new places, and been able to pursue a vision for my music that I had only dreamt of in my little basement in Indiana.
The result is something that I hope will both move and inspire you; something that you can find beauty in, and that will give you hope. I hope that it will restore your faith in love if you've lost it, and most of all, I hope that by listening to it you will learn more about yourself and the world around you. These songs are my thoughts and feelings; my memories and my rescue when I need it most. This is the music that helps me make sense of the world when nothing else can, and I only hope that it can do the same for you."
Chase Coy, age 19. At first, I was pretty critical of his apparent Drake Bell/Adam Young combo imitation method, but upon investigation, I found that he is
a) distinctive enough, both in sound and personality
b) freaking adorable
c) a HUGE Adam Young fan (and rightfully so)
d) personally invested in both his music and his fans,
e) underground enough not to be obnoxious, and
f)...did i already say adorable?
Granted, 90% of his fans are girls because...well, obvs. But he's no Biebster; he's got real talent, and what I believe to be a recognizable songwriter's soul. Something about the peaceful, wistful nature of his music makes me feel like taking the scenic route, doing things the slow and steady way...taking time to sort out what's really important, what I really want. It feels and sounds like going home - being home, with a familiar type of reflection associated with sitting on one's front porch and looking out at the sunset. His thoughtful melodies make me picture open fields, the sun on a whitewashed railing, dusty shoes by the stairs...calming, homey things. Though very similar to Adam Young in regards to making most of his music out of his parents' basement, he definitely has a uniqueness about him that's pretty intriguing, to me at least.
This is what he has to say about his new album, "Picturesque":
"This record has turned out to be more than I ever expected it to be. After stepping out of my basement, I embarked on a journey that has helped me grow both as a person and as a musician; I have met new friends, seen new places, and been able to pursue a vision for my music that I had only dreamt of in my little basement in Indiana.
The result is something that I hope will both move and inspire you; something that you can find beauty in, and that will give you hope. I hope that it will restore your faith in love if you've lost it, and most of all, I hope that by listening to it you will learn more about yourself and the world around you. These songs are my thoughts and feelings; my memories and my rescue when I need it most. This is the music that helps me make sense of the world when nothing else can, and I only hope that it can do the same for you."
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Opening the Box
So my dad and brother are cleaning out the garage, and came across a box of "mementos" from the old days. I assume the movers found a drawer with an unclassifiable assortment of junk, wrapped it in paper as best as they could, and boxed it up, because there is the most RANDOM stuff imaginable inside.
Among these treasures are:
1) my binder from 6th grade English. It took me awhile to decipher the nonsensical, drama-filled scribblings, but of course I had to try - the vows of undying affection to various nicknames are PRICELESS. Not to mention everyone's horrendous grammar...oh, the irony.
2) a few torn-out journal entries that CRACK ME UP. Stream of consciousness, anyone? My favorite and the longest begins with "my life is complicated. i'm only 14 and i could write a book."
3) a broken clay figure from art class that looks as though its state of "some assembly required" is intentional...but no, I just didn't fasten the limbs well enough.
4) a smudged and burned Blind Guardian CD *and* a shiny WOW CD in its case. Ah, the music of a Denbigh childhood.
5) the comic book (errr, binder?) that I wrote in 4th grade. Although it does make me laugh, it's not at all comical...I cringe horribly every time I open it.
6) my old Busch pass! Oh, the memories...:)
7. my old red & black Converse high-tops, complete w/ little Sharpie hearts and stars on the toes. I'm actually kind of excited about this one; I had wondered where they had disappeared to.
Ladies and gentlemen, my childhood - or rather, my junior high and freshman years. It's kinda funny looking back at what defines a person in their most vulnerable (not to mention hormonal) times. It's also crazy how much about those years I had blocked out from my memory...but looking back, that was actually probably the most favorable course of action at the time. There was so much emotion and confusion, I'm surprised I didn't have a meltdown (although I'm sure I had my fair share of those, come to think of it). A part of me wants to be cheesy and say that if only I had known then what I know now, life would have been so much different/better/easier. But I also know that without those feelings of hurt and resentment, the fears of neglect and nonacceptance, and the confusion that surrounded it all, I wouldn't have sought so desperately for an answer.
Think about your middle school/junior high days. Wasn't it then that you were either willing to feel the Spirit with your whole heart, or truly felt the darkness of a world without Him? I find that middle schoolers are so much more in tune with their emotions that they run wholeheartedly to whatever fulfills them - they tend to be extreme one way or the other. Granted, that can lead to terribly tragedy...but I'm also thinking of Acquire the Fire, where I encountered God being there for ME and loving ME for the first time. Insufficient, downtrodden, misunderstood me. See, it's much easier to recognize one's depravity at that age - usually the pride hasn't quite kicked in yet. We already knew how awful we were, we just needed someone to love us.
I didn't experience a lot of closeness with God in those years, but when I did, it was absolutely unforgettable. That wholeheartedness, that inner rebellion against apathy (note: INNER...a 7th grader would often like nothing more than for you to believe he's rebelling by BEING apathetic) is wonderfully refreshing, and leads to a fantastic opportunity for ministry.
I guess what I'm saying is that the more I let myself remember and relive those times, the more God seems to be putting that age group on my heart. I don't know what that'll look like yet, but I've started thinking and praying about whether my major should change, what classes I should look into, etc. It's really caused me to examine both my memories and myself.
It's amazing what God can do with a cardboard box of addled memories.
Among these treasures are:
1) my binder from 6th grade English. It took me awhile to decipher the nonsensical, drama-filled scribblings, but of course I had to try - the vows of undying affection to various nicknames are PRICELESS. Not to mention everyone's horrendous grammar...oh, the irony.
2) a few torn-out journal entries that CRACK ME UP. Stream of consciousness, anyone? My favorite and the longest begins with "my life is complicated. i'm only 14 and i could write a book."
3) a broken clay figure from art class that looks as though its state of "some assembly required" is intentional...but no, I just didn't fasten the limbs well enough.
4) a smudged and burned Blind Guardian CD *and* a shiny WOW CD in its case. Ah, the music of a Denbigh childhood.
5) the comic book (errr, binder?) that I wrote in 4th grade. Although it does make me laugh, it's not at all comical...I cringe horribly every time I open it.
6) my old Busch pass! Oh, the memories...:)
7. my old red & black Converse high-tops, complete w/ little Sharpie hearts and stars on the toes. I'm actually kind of excited about this one; I had wondered where they had disappeared to.
Ladies and gentlemen, my childhood - or rather, my junior high and freshman years. It's kinda funny looking back at what defines a person in their most vulnerable (not to mention hormonal) times. It's also crazy how much about those years I had blocked out from my memory...but looking back, that was actually probably the most favorable course of action at the time. There was so much emotion and confusion, I'm surprised I didn't have a meltdown (although I'm sure I had my fair share of those, come to think of it). A part of me wants to be cheesy and say that if only I had known then what I know now, life would have been so much different/better/easier. But I also know that without those feelings of hurt and resentment, the fears of neglect and nonacceptance, and the confusion that surrounded it all, I wouldn't have sought so desperately for an answer.
Think about your middle school/junior high days. Wasn't it then that you were either willing to feel the Spirit with your whole heart, or truly felt the darkness of a world without Him? I find that middle schoolers are so much more in tune with their emotions that they run wholeheartedly to whatever fulfills them - they tend to be extreme one way or the other. Granted, that can lead to terribly tragedy...but I'm also thinking of Acquire the Fire, where I encountered God being there for ME and loving ME for the first time. Insufficient, downtrodden, misunderstood me. See, it's much easier to recognize one's depravity at that age - usually the pride hasn't quite kicked in yet. We already knew how awful we were, we just needed someone to love us.
I didn't experience a lot of closeness with God in those years, but when I did, it was absolutely unforgettable. That wholeheartedness, that inner rebellion against apathy (note: INNER...a 7th grader would often like nothing more than for you to believe he's rebelling by BEING apathetic) is wonderfully refreshing, and leads to a fantastic opportunity for ministry.
I guess what I'm saying is that the more I let myself remember and relive those times, the more God seems to be putting that age group on my heart. I don't know what that'll look like yet, but I've started thinking and praying about whether my major should change, what classes I should look into, etc. It's really caused me to examine both my memories and myself.
It's amazing what God can do with a cardboard box of addled memories.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Always Running Out Of Time
Much of today was spent in the glorious company of Cadena, my Gibson Maestro...it was lovely. :) The only downside is that spending hours with her turns into MORE hours, until I am very sleepy. And yet I still have much to say, and an entry has yet to be written! However, tonight's will be a lyric reflection.
This song was written in association with Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland, and I like it a lot for many reasons. Mostly, I find that it describes so accurately the daily slipping away of our most precious commodity: time. Usually almost imperceptible until hindsight, the accidental and regrettable loss of time can be a pretty harsh reality. Since I've been acknowledging it more readily in my own life, I've been slowly learning to both recognize trivial time-wasters and treasure this unique gift of minutes, hours, and days.
"Always Running Out Of Time"
Motion City Soundtrack
"I won't tell you how to live your life,
so please stay far away from mine.
Always watching out for 'which' and 'whether's,
always running out of time.
Drip drap,
Peeling back the skin of summer;
autumns, everything aligns.
Inside out and roundabout,
my heart is always running out of time!
Always running out of time...
I have to know
if you'll float away with me.
The faster I go,
the further away it seems you get!
Are we floating nowhere yet?
Drip drop,
try to stop the forward motion;
all hands tend to fall behind.
Wasted 'whether's of the 'which' cuts deeper,
Always running out of time!
Always running out of time...
I have to know
if you'll float away with me.
The faster I go,
the further away it seems you get...
With all of me white
and all of her red,
I should have stayed,
but I lost my head.
With all of our rhymes
divorcing themselves,
I should have stayed,
but I lost my head.
I should have stayed,
but I lost myself.
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)..."
This song was written in association with Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland, and I like it a lot for many reasons. Mostly, I find that it describes so accurately the daily slipping away of our most precious commodity: time. Usually almost imperceptible until hindsight, the accidental and regrettable loss of time can be a pretty harsh reality. Since I've been acknowledging it more readily in my own life, I've been slowly learning to both recognize trivial time-wasters and treasure this unique gift of minutes, hours, and days.
"Always Running Out Of Time"
Motion City Soundtrack
"I won't tell you how to live your life,
so please stay far away from mine.
Always watching out for 'which' and 'whether's,
always running out of time.
Drip drap,
Peeling back the skin of summer;
autumns, everything aligns.
Inside out and roundabout,
my heart is always running out of time!
Always running out of time...
I have to know
if you'll float away with me.
The faster I go,
the further away it seems you get!
Are we floating nowhere yet?
Drip drop,
try to stop the forward motion;
all hands tend to fall behind.
Wasted 'whether's of the 'which' cuts deeper,
Always running out of time!
Always running out of time...
I have to know
if you'll float away with me.
The faster I go,
the further away it seems you get...
With all of me white
and all of her red,
I should have stayed,
but I lost my head.
With all of our rhymes
divorcing themselves,
I should have stayed,
but I lost my head.
I should have stayed,
but I lost myself.
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)
Always running out of time. (Always running out of time)..."
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Time Won't Let Me Go
Five months.
It's been almost FIVE MONTHS since my last entry...that blows my mind! Time got away from me, as did my commitment to keeping this blog on a weekly, if not daily basis (clearly). A couple of friends asked me months ago if was going to keep writing entries, but my life was so full that writing took a backseat to classes, homework, projects, conversations, crises, rehearsals, meetings, practices, events, and other various commitments that filled the days of my spring semester. I hope that coming back to writing will be a permanent and continual change. My inspiration and reasoning behind keeping this blog has been renewed, and I sincerely hope that stays with me.
Something else that took up some time toward the end of the school year was a discovery that I made about myself: the beautiful and extraordinary discovery of music. Not that I didn't enjoy music before; on the contrary, I've always had a special place in my heart for music as a unique language of the soul. No, the discovery was that I didn't just understand this language...I spoke it. Or rather, I was capable of "speaking", or communicating, in and through music. I knew that I sometimes love through the application of lyrics, but I never guessed that I could actually produce original music from my heart that made sense to the rest of the world.
This hesitant realization threw me for a complete loop and opened up a whole realm of possibilities and questions that I had and still have no idea how to handle. I mostly questioned the authenticity of this gift of music - whether it really was a gift, or just a hobby. I still ask myself those kinds of questions, but I've also started acting on my "musical instincts", if you will, with the hope that it's the former...that my music is a legitimate pursuit. To really pursue the songwriting and recording lifestyle, I really have to want it as a primary focus of my life. I've been doing a lot of self-searching to attempt to decipher the tangle that is my ambition, replugging and dusting in places where it needs it, and experimenting to find the way I was originally wired. It's been pretty tricky to try to find the right combination of passions and priorities that allows me to work as I was designed and intended.
Overall, I've been doing a ton of introspection this year, especially in the realm of music. One thing that helps this journey more than anything else is the presence of sunlight, which is always, ALWAYS more conducive to self-discovery, in my opinion. Except for maybe thunderstorms...I'm kind of a weather extremist.
Admittedly, my goals for the summer are a bit abstract...but I do know that they involve looking back on my life, being with people I love, enjoying warmth, songwriting, attempting to learn the art of guitar, and lots and lots of reflective thinking. Oh: and writing, of course! This blog will serve as a kind of outlet for my thinking, as well as a way to record the journey into myself and along my life's course.
And as nervous as I am to dive into this search for who I'm meant to be, I'm also incredibly excited...I can't wait to see what I find.
It's been almost FIVE MONTHS since my last entry...that blows my mind! Time got away from me, as did my commitment to keeping this blog on a weekly, if not daily basis (clearly). A couple of friends asked me months ago if was going to keep writing entries, but my life was so full that writing took a backseat to classes, homework, projects, conversations, crises, rehearsals, meetings, practices, events, and other various commitments that filled the days of my spring semester. I hope that coming back to writing will be a permanent and continual change. My inspiration and reasoning behind keeping this blog has been renewed, and I sincerely hope that stays with me.
Something else that took up some time toward the end of the school year was a discovery that I made about myself: the beautiful and extraordinary discovery of music. Not that I didn't enjoy music before; on the contrary, I've always had a special place in my heart for music as a unique language of the soul. No, the discovery was that I didn't just understand this language...I spoke it. Or rather, I was capable of "speaking", or communicating, in and through music. I knew that I sometimes love through the application of lyrics, but I never guessed that I could actually produce original music from my heart that made sense to the rest of the world.
This hesitant realization threw me for a complete loop and opened up a whole realm of possibilities and questions that I had and still have no idea how to handle. I mostly questioned the authenticity of this gift of music - whether it really was a gift, or just a hobby. I still ask myself those kinds of questions, but I've also started acting on my "musical instincts", if you will, with the hope that it's the former...that my music is a legitimate pursuit. To really pursue the songwriting and recording lifestyle, I really have to want it as a primary focus of my life. I've been doing a lot of self-searching to attempt to decipher the tangle that is my ambition, replugging and dusting in places where it needs it, and experimenting to find the way I was originally wired. It's been pretty tricky to try to find the right combination of passions and priorities that allows me to work as I was designed and intended.
Overall, I've been doing a ton of introspection this year, especially in the realm of music. One thing that helps this journey more than anything else is the presence of sunlight, which is always, ALWAYS more conducive to self-discovery, in my opinion. Except for maybe thunderstorms...I'm kind of a weather extremist.
Admittedly, my goals for the summer are a bit abstract...but I do know that they involve looking back on my life, being with people I love, enjoying warmth, songwriting, attempting to learn the art of guitar, and lots and lots of reflective thinking. Oh: and writing, of course! This blog will serve as a kind of outlet for my thinking, as well as a way to record the journey into myself and along my life's course.
And as nervous as I am to dive into this search for who I'm meant to be, I'm also incredibly excited...I can't wait to see what I find.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Regaining the Senses
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an inexplicable, powerful, and seemingly never-ending thirst to feel needed. I love to feel wanted, important, valued, and irreplaceable; I always have. I’ve searched in many of the people around me for someone consistent...someone that I loved that would never change their mind about loving me, or get tired of having me around. I over-loved, overprotected, overestimated, over-needed, and all the while overlooked Christ's love for me. I'm slowly realizing that I've actually known I've been looking for love in all the wrong places for years; I've known in my heart and I've felt guilty, not admitting it to myself or to anyone else for fear that it was too wrong and too late to fix. I would find myself eventually feeling lost, futile, and without purpose, yet I refused to look in the one place that I had been firmly pointed toward my entire life.
I’ve yearned for someone in my life to want to help me, hold me, and keep me safe so that I would feel and see it all around me, but I rebelled against and refused to believe the fact that God could, did, and does love me more than what I could ever want from the people I already loved so dearly. My relationships seemed healthy as I continued to love and to need, and He was intangible, abstract, and distant to me. I was determined to find the answers and the love I longed for in every other area and person but the only One who could truly fulfill me. God's been showing me these past two weeks just how much I've been putting Him aside and after the people He's created...and He's also been teaching me how to forgive myself for it.
Often, looking back at my life allows me to see what God has done. However, I tend to grudgingly acknowledge His hand in situations instead of praising Him for it, because I didn't feel Him at the time. It's sort of a spin on the Footprints poem that many of us know so well: I didn't feel Him carrying me while I was going through something, but I saw His footprints later and wished He would have told me He was carrying me. I've been so foolish. Why would someone who's carrying me need to inform me that I'm supported by their arms? The solidity under me, the difference in perspective, that self-consciousness that I'd be dropped because I was too much to carry, the whooshing feeling in my stomach that I could fall at any moment...all of these things should be more than enough. It should be so obvious that it would be silly not to know I was being carried.
But I had dulled myself to sensing Him. I didn't want to believe that He was carrying me, because I didn't trust Him not to drop me. If I acknowledged that He was the one who carried me through everything, I couldn't take the credit myself or give it to the people He used in my life. So I conclude and I pray that I will continue to give Him the daily credit He deserves, and attribute what great things He does in my daily life to His glory and character...but I'll be learning that all my life.
I'm still barely in that semi-conscience twilight between sleeping and waking.
I’ve yearned for someone in my life to want to help me, hold me, and keep me safe so that I would feel and see it all around me, but I rebelled against and refused to believe the fact that God could, did, and does love me more than what I could ever want from the people I already loved so dearly. My relationships seemed healthy as I continued to love and to need, and He was intangible, abstract, and distant to me. I was determined to find the answers and the love I longed for in every other area and person but the only One who could truly fulfill me. God's been showing me these past two weeks just how much I've been putting Him aside and after the people He's created...and He's also been teaching me how to forgive myself for it.
Often, looking back at my life allows me to see what God has done. However, I tend to grudgingly acknowledge His hand in situations instead of praising Him for it, because I didn't feel Him at the time. It's sort of a spin on the Footprints poem that many of us know so well: I didn't feel Him carrying me while I was going through something, but I saw His footprints later and wished He would have told me He was carrying me. I've been so foolish. Why would someone who's carrying me need to inform me that I'm supported by their arms? The solidity under me, the difference in perspective, that self-consciousness that I'd be dropped because I was too much to carry, the whooshing feeling in my stomach that I could fall at any moment...all of these things should be more than enough. It should be so obvious that it would be silly not to know I was being carried.
But I had dulled myself to sensing Him. I didn't want to believe that He was carrying me, because I didn't trust Him not to drop me. If I acknowledged that He was the one who carried me through everything, I couldn't take the credit myself or give it to the people He used in my life. So I conclude and I pray that I will continue to give Him the daily credit He deserves, and attribute what great things He does in my daily life to His glory and character...but I'll be learning that all my life.
I'm still barely in that semi-conscience twilight between sleeping and waking.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
A Daily Decision
I like sleeping in.
Oddly enough, I find myself sleeping better when the sun is out. I've even had periods of time in my life when I was arguably nocturnal, sleeping in until the afternoon. Though I appreciate the mornings, I'm a night owl by nature; I find it difficult to get up a lot of mornings. Every day is a new chance to break that habit, but it takes at least a couple of weeks to solidify sleeping habits. As I look at mornings as a metaphor for my spiritual life, it reminds me that waking up to see God's work and the way He wants me to love is a daily decision. I rarely wake when I'm not obligated to...I never get up just for the sake of seeing the morning. I always feel like I need a reason to wake up - never acknowledging that the morning in itself is enough reason. God's been teaching me that just because my habits are comfortable, that doesn't make them better or even good in the long run. It's worth it to forgo them for what He wants.
This is one of my favorite songs, and I think the lyrics are particularly applicable.
Night/Day
Mae
I’ve been
Dreaming such a long time,
And I’ve been waiting for the sunshine.
But all my friends, they say I’m getting by
With sleeping in.
They say I’m sleeping in.
You know whenever I try, I want to get it right,
But I distract my focus and blur my own sight.
'Cause I’ve convinced myself that my best can only come in the moonlight,
And I keep sleeping in.
I keep on sleeping in,
And missing something...
(Close your eyes before the daylight breaks.)
There are things about me I just can’t ignore.
I know I want to change, and I see that door.
On the other side, daylight decides there will be war with sleeping in.
Oh, I know there’ll be no more sleeping in.
I wait, I wait, I wait
Only in jest.
I wait, I wait, I wait
With no need to rest, I wait.
"The day, the day, the day will come again," I say.
A ray of light can only get in if I say.
I’ve been putting off this purification,
A rebirth and a regeneration inside of me.
And I’ve been saying "no" for far too long,
Even though something brand new is coming out of me.
I’m going to wake up, wake up every morning and then decide.
I’m going to wake up, wake up every morning and make it mine,
Rain or shine.
I wake, I wake, I wake and greet the day;
The light is on, the change is made - I can see my way!
The day, the day, this day has come again!
Each ray of light will make its way into the core of me.
I always knew that I was missing something.
I know this time that I will leave nothing up to chance.
And in the wake of this brand new day,
I see the light and I feel the sun and I’ll do it all again…tomorrow.
Oddly enough, I find myself sleeping better when the sun is out. I've even had periods of time in my life when I was arguably nocturnal, sleeping in until the afternoon. Though I appreciate the mornings, I'm a night owl by nature; I find it difficult to get up a lot of mornings. Every day is a new chance to break that habit, but it takes at least a couple of weeks to solidify sleeping habits. As I look at mornings as a metaphor for my spiritual life, it reminds me that waking up to see God's work and the way He wants me to love is a daily decision. I rarely wake when I'm not obligated to...I never get up just for the sake of seeing the morning. I always feel like I need a reason to wake up - never acknowledging that the morning in itself is enough reason. God's been teaching me that just because my habits are comfortable, that doesn't make them better or even good in the long run. It's worth it to forgo them for what He wants.
This is one of my favorite songs, and I think the lyrics are particularly applicable.
Night/Day
Mae
I’ve been
Dreaming such a long time,
And I’ve been waiting for the sunshine.
But all my friends, they say I’m getting by
With sleeping in.
They say I’m sleeping in.
You know whenever I try, I want to get it right,
But I distract my focus and blur my own sight.
'Cause I’ve convinced myself that my best can only come in the moonlight,
And I keep sleeping in.
I keep on sleeping in,
And missing something...
(Close your eyes before the daylight breaks.)
There are things about me I just can’t ignore.
I know I want to change, and I see that door.
On the other side, daylight decides there will be war with sleeping in.
Oh, I know there’ll be no more sleeping in.
I wait, I wait, I wait
Only in jest.
I wait, I wait, I wait
With no need to rest, I wait.
"The day, the day, the day will come again," I say.
A ray of light can only get in if I say.
I’ve been putting off this purification,
A rebirth and a regeneration inside of me.
And I’ve been saying "no" for far too long,
Even though something brand new is coming out of me.
I’m going to wake up, wake up every morning and then decide.
I’m going to wake up, wake up every morning and make it mine,
Rain or shine.
I wake, I wake, I wake and greet the day;
The light is on, the change is made - I can see my way!
The day, the day, this day has come again!
Each ray of light will make its way into the core of me.
I always knew that I was missing something.
I know this time that I will leave nothing up to chance.
And in the wake of this brand new day,
I see the light and I feel the sun and I’ll do it all again…tomorrow.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Better Than Dreaming
This week at Trinity, Jill Boscoe was our guest speaker for Christian Life Week. A kind but brisk, approachable but wise, jolly but profound woman of 75, Jill has definitely shared some life-changing stories and perspectives on campus this week...and one in particular stood out to me. In chapel today, she spoke of dying to the old self, the sinful nature. That part I'd heard before, and I was feeling pretty good about it. I'm awakening, right? God's getting rid of my old self as we speak, and I'm pretty solid about what that will look like. Right?
Well, partly. I'm aware that I'm being made more aware, which makes some amount of sense. But as Jill explained what aspects of the old self we need to die to, she mentioned dreams. I first thought of dreams as in big plans for the future, ambitious visions, or idealistic escapes - Jimmy Stuart from It's A Wonderful Life came to mind. That's what I associated with dreams: a longing for something to happen that is almost achievable, but constantly cast aside for the sake of practicality. Then Jill began reading her own dream she had to die to: a very personal, very relational dream that wasn't a borderline unrealistic ambition, but an emotional and spiritual desire for her mother to come to Christ. She endured heartache and distance, longing for her mother's heart. My own heart wrenched when she told us of her mother's death after never coming to witness Jill at her ministry. But then, as she neared her conclusion, she revealed that her mother did indeed commit her life to Christ. She did so on her deathbed, and not at all the time or the that way Jill had expected and hoped for, but God took her home anyway. "You see," she said, closing her book and looking up at the students intimately, "If you take care of the things that are precious to God, He will take care of the things that are precious to you."
Today, I realized that I had dreams I didn't even know were dreams. I knew I had deep desires and hopes, but I had never called them dreams before, and I certainly hadn't died to them yet. I don't want them to die. I've held on to dreams because I feel like I'm perfectly justified in having them, and I want to keep my hope for as long as I possibly can. I've been longing for dreams I've had since before I can remember to come true, excusing myself by maintaining that hope is Biblical. Now I'm learning that I have to let them go first even if they could come true, because they're my dreams. They're not God's dreams for me, and they're not reality. As beautiful and wonderful as dreams can be, realizing the stability and truth of reality is always better in the end. All a dream does is deceive and put my hope in the dream itself, and not the One who chooses whether or not to fulfill it. And as blissful as dreams may seem, God knows that the beauty of His dawn is worth waking me from my dreams, because this dawn is infinitely better...and most importantly, it's real.
Well, partly. I'm aware that I'm being made more aware, which makes some amount of sense. But as Jill explained what aspects of the old self we need to die to, she mentioned dreams. I first thought of dreams as in big plans for the future, ambitious visions, or idealistic escapes - Jimmy Stuart from It's A Wonderful Life came to mind. That's what I associated with dreams: a longing for something to happen that is almost achievable, but constantly cast aside for the sake of practicality. Then Jill began reading her own dream she had to die to: a very personal, very relational dream that wasn't a borderline unrealistic ambition, but an emotional and spiritual desire for her mother to come to Christ. She endured heartache and distance, longing for her mother's heart. My own heart wrenched when she told us of her mother's death after never coming to witness Jill at her ministry. But then, as she neared her conclusion, she revealed that her mother did indeed commit her life to Christ. She did so on her deathbed, and not at all the time or the that way Jill had expected and hoped for, but God took her home anyway. "You see," she said, closing her book and looking up at the students intimately, "If you take care of the things that are precious to God, He will take care of the things that are precious to you."
Today, I realized that I had dreams I didn't even know were dreams. I knew I had deep desires and hopes, but I had never called them dreams before, and I certainly hadn't died to them yet. I don't want them to die. I've held on to dreams because I feel like I'm perfectly justified in having them, and I want to keep my hope for as long as I possibly can. I've been longing for dreams I've had since before I can remember to come true, excusing myself by maintaining that hope is Biblical. Now I'm learning that I have to let them go first even if they could come true, because they're my dreams. They're not God's dreams for me, and they're not reality. As beautiful and wonderful as dreams can be, realizing the stability and truth of reality is always better in the end. All a dream does is deceive and put my hope in the dream itself, and not the One who chooses whether or not to fulfill it. And as blissful as dreams may seem, God knows that the beauty of His dawn is worth waking me from my dreams, because this dawn is infinitely better...and most importantly, it's real.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Dawn Comes With Waking
I returned to Trinity after winter break only two weeks and two days ago. However, in that short and seemingly insignificant space of time, God's worked in me more than I've let Him in a very long time. This process has really stretched over all of last semester, but now it's become more tangible and joyful as I learn to express it. He's led me to finally start facing myself for who I am and who He's made me to be, which I tend to be very reluctant to do. I've let Him show me how beautiful His creation is in everyone and everything else all my life, but I haven't let Him show me the beauty in myself as His Creation in years, if ever. Not only that, but I slipped into the sin I had once mourned as twisted and wrong: worshipping the creation and not the Creator.
God is slowly awakening me to His very presence and reality, and to the things He's doing in my own life and in the lives of the people all around me. It's barely the beginning of a lifelong process, and He's tried to wake me countless times in my life. He's worked in so many different ways to get me to open my eyes and see Him there, but I constantly shut Him out and focused on my own agenda, my own perspective, my own sources of love that I liked better. I had been so blind to it all, thinking I could see all the beauty there was to see. I'm rather beauty-oriented to begin with, you see...I tend to greatly enjoy looking for and bringing out the beautiful aspects of things and people around me. I was quite proud of that, thoroughly convinced that it was the reason people would love me. I never gave God the credit for giving me that ability and perspective, and I never considered that HE loved that about me. I forgot that He Himself was beautiful.
As it dawned on me that I would be working through this growth process for a very, very long time, I realized that I wanted to record it somehow. God has taught me so many things in the past that I've simply forgotten about or attributed to something or someone else. I need a way to give Him credit for what He does in my life as He does it. The idea of keeping a blog came suddenly, and at first it didn't appeal to me much. I dislike conforming or copying, or feeling like I'm jumping on a bandwagon, especially if I don't have a strong purpose for doing so. But I know myself in that I won't grow nearly as much if I don't have something keeping me accountable to giving God daily credit for the work He does in my life and in my heart.
This blog won't be extremely structured or thematic. It will most likely consist of haphazard vulnerability and random little revelations that come to me as I read or listen to something (I'll be reading My Utmost for His Highest all year, and crazy love and Captivating until I'm through). I'll reflect on lyrics or poems that strike me as particularly moving or meaningful, as well as some assignments that also coincide with the process. Yes, assignments. My life has the theme of "self-discovery as God's creation" in pretty much every single aspect of my life - which therefore includes my classes. God is and has been working intricately and actively...and I'm finally starting to see it for how beautiful it really is. I'm learning to love how He brings us beauty after hardships that makes us forget the mess that came before it. That's why I've chosen to call this "The Beauty and the Mess". The phrase dropped into my head as I was debating on a name, and I fought it for a few minutes. "That's random," I thought. "I haven't heard that song in forever." The only response I sensed was that that proved that it wasn't just a random name - it's what life is. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to define and title what it was that I wanted to do.
As I was thinking yesterday about how God is gently shaking me awake to see this beauty He's created, I couldn't help but think of the morning. I have morning classes this semester, which I anticipated as somewhat of a hardship, especially in January. But one thing I had forgotten about and find myself enjoying is the distinctively still and quiet, profound beauty that morning holds. The world is slowly revealed as the day begins with soft and brilliant colors; the darkness of night is eliminated and forgotten as the sun slowly shines into every corner. We can see again. Even though every day has a dawn, I rarely wake up to see it. I've missed countless brilliant displays of God's creation over the course of my life because I've simply stayed in bed, where it's comfortable. I've seen a lot of sunsets. I really like the moon and stars. Other beautiful things I've come across on my own terms have been enough for me so far. The difference this time is that God is waking me up to see His dawn. He wants me to begin to witness what I've barely even given second thought to before.
But the full power and beauty of this particular dawn won't come until I'm awake enough to see it.
God is slowly awakening me to His very presence and reality, and to the things He's doing in my own life and in the lives of the people all around me. It's barely the beginning of a lifelong process, and He's tried to wake me countless times in my life. He's worked in so many different ways to get me to open my eyes and see Him there, but I constantly shut Him out and focused on my own agenda, my own perspective, my own sources of love that I liked better. I had been so blind to it all, thinking I could see all the beauty there was to see. I'm rather beauty-oriented to begin with, you see...I tend to greatly enjoy looking for and bringing out the beautiful aspects of things and people around me. I was quite proud of that, thoroughly convinced that it was the reason people would love me. I never gave God the credit for giving me that ability and perspective, and I never considered that HE loved that about me. I forgot that He Himself was beautiful.
As it dawned on me that I would be working through this growth process for a very, very long time, I realized that I wanted to record it somehow. God has taught me so many things in the past that I've simply forgotten about or attributed to something or someone else. I need a way to give Him credit for what He does in my life as He does it. The idea of keeping a blog came suddenly, and at first it didn't appeal to me much. I dislike conforming or copying, or feeling like I'm jumping on a bandwagon, especially if I don't have a strong purpose for doing so. But I know myself in that I won't grow nearly as much if I don't have something keeping me accountable to giving God daily credit for the work He does in my life and in my heart.
This blog won't be extremely structured or thematic. It will most likely consist of haphazard vulnerability and random little revelations that come to me as I read or listen to something (I'll be reading My Utmost for His Highest all year, and crazy love and Captivating until I'm through). I'll reflect on lyrics or poems that strike me as particularly moving or meaningful, as well as some assignments that also coincide with the process. Yes, assignments. My life has the theme of "self-discovery as God's creation" in pretty much every single aspect of my life - which therefore includes my classes. God is and has been working intricately and actively...and I'm finally starting to see it for how beautiful it really is. I'm learning to love how He brings us beauty after hardships that makes us forget the mess that came before it. That's why I've chosen to call this "The Beauty and the Mess". The phrase dropped into my head as I was debating on a name, and I fought it for a few minutes. "That's random," I thought. "I haven't heard that song in forever." The only response I sensed was that that proved that it wasn't just a random name - it's what life is. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to define and title what it was that I wanted to do.
As I was thinking yesterday about how God is gently shaking me awake to see this beauty He's created, I couldn't help but think of the morning. I have morning classes this semester, which I anticipated as somewhat of a hardship, especially in January. But one thing I had forgotten about and find myself enjoying is the distinctively still and quiet, profound beauty that morning holds. The world is slowly revealed as the day begins with soft and brilliant colors; the darkness of night is eliminated and forgotten as the sun slowly shines into every corner. We can see again. Even though every day has a dawn, I rarely wake up to see it. I've missed countless brilliant displays of God's creation over the course of my life because I've simply stayed in bed, where it's comfortable. I've seen a lot of sunsets. I really like the moon and stars. Other beautiful things I've come across on my own terms have been enough for me so far. The difference this time is that God is waking me up to see His dawn. He wants me to begin to witness what I've barely even given second thought to before.
But the full power and beauty of this particular dawn won't come until I'm awake enough to see it.
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