Sunday, October 02, 2011

Simplicity

It all started with dear Emerson from Pide Piper. I, of course, was meddling in his buisness and asking why he was mad at the world at the time, and at one point he said that he wished everything was simple like it was in middle school. So, being a good girl and all, I think “Well, following Christ makes EVERYTHING more simple.”

I suppose what lead me to that thought was that he was talking about all of these complications of the world that just distract us from Christ and that worry us, things that if we trust God with, will melt away (or so it says in Matthew 11)

But it ISN’T that simple, is it? I' was never saying it would be easy, I’m talking simple. Follow scripture = simple. Live by rules = simple, right? Then you look at all of these theological debates and fights and all out denomination splits over the ‘simple’ stuff, but in all honesty, look at the scripture and do what it says.  Love those who hate you, witness to those around you by loving God and being a light, forget the weird stuff of the world like drugs and sex and such.

It’s not easy. I never said  it was easy. But there you have it. Can I dumb it down for you any further than that? At least, those are the answers to the things he was talking about. (And no, I didn’t say exactly that to him)

It’s interesting, how we water things down. Like with my ‘almost no carb’ diet. First week, I’m alright, I’ve got this. Now, I’ve had almost 3 desserts in the past 3 days. (Not cool) It starts with a ‘Oh, this isn’t so bad,’ and an ‘I’m allowed to do this…’ and don’t forget the ‘just one’ that turns into ‘just two’ that turns into ‘what’s another gunna hurt if I’ve already had this many?’ How is it any different than what we do here when we hear the simple diet?

“No sex.”

‘Well, it won’t hurt if it just do this with him…’

“Don’t lie.”

‘You know it’s for their own good if I just say…’

“Don’t swear.”

‘Crap is'n’t such a bad word, is it?’

Is it?

“Give to the poor.”

‘Are they really poor?’

“Help the orphan.”

‘I’ve got that car loan…’

“Give to those who need you!”

‘I can’t!’

Liar.

“Love those who hate you!”

‘Why should I?’

“Because I said so.”

‘And?’

It’s this entire back and forth chase, what can I get away with? Well, if He didn’t stop me from doing this, then why not?

And if we’re not doing what God says, i.e. worshiping with our lives, then what are we doing the bidding of? Who or what are we worshiping? I read Neil Gaiman’s book “American Gods” a couple of years back, and it just came back to me tonight. It’s set up so each god exists if someone worships it, and it is only as strong as how many people worship it. The old school gods have been forgotten and now the new gods are coming into power, the American Gods. T.V., money, sex, drugs, fame, all sorts of gods are, of course, coming to power as people devote themselves to them.

I’ve heard preachers speak on this kind of topic, heard them talk about how we devote our time on other things instead of God, and therefore worship them, how we dedicate our lives to silly things. I’m not sure it’s ever hit me like this before though. The more we feed these things with our devotion, you know the more they grow in our lives. How big is our devotion to food? How much time and thought do we spend on our clothes? Do we work so hard, so many hours of days of years making money for ourselves to hoard or spend on frivolous things, or do we give to those who REALLY need it?

Jeeze, I’ve been convicted of this so many times, but when will it really hit that these things can’t be our gods and we can’t spend so much of our short lives on them! They stay here! Just fyi, they don’t last and they won’t make us happy. I’m honestly scared that if I give too much I won’t have enough for myself, I’m not smart enough and don’t have enough self control to trust myself with that kind of slim money. I will save until the future and give what I can then, when everything is sorted, but until then, I need to focus on the important. I need to make sure I know who God is and what is not.

Friday, September 23, 2011

But who can tell you if he is who he says he is? Who can know the wonders or mysteries behind that façade he puts up day in and day out; the outward treachery of friends, forgotten ones, and knowns? Who’s to say he’s telling the lie correctly?

When do the riddles begin to have a meaning? When can I find out where to begin? when I look around at the mess surrounding me all that I can find is slacks of yarn with no rhyme or reason, no ending or beginning. Why do I have to keep guessing my way around this entangled knot? I want to know the answers but I can’t even find the questions.

when do the trees start to talk and gain their wisdom from silence? what can the flowers and the grass teach me that doesn’t have a sound? why can’t I see what I lie about between the orders of rose and cardania?  When will I know what to ask the trees as they sigh away from the wind that rushes them off to more important things than I? Why can’t I simply ask what I mean to know and hear what I mean to listen?

I need silence before all of this, and my mind is too full of cobwebs to let the echoes still themselves.

Friday, September 09, 2011

Given to Grief

I give, for grief, a small section of my brain, to ward off the bigger comings of repressed memories that would engulf me at once if not let out slowly.

I give, for grief, a small portion of my heart, because I can’t let it go and know that there is no possibility. I’ve tried to chip away that piece, but it’s my heart. It insists on staying whole.

I give, for grief, a small whisp of my soul, loving my beloved mother who will never give me back the years she stole out of spite through a bitterness. The cities are warm in comparison to where the heart my soul lies within.

I have given, for grief, a lot should it add up. My mind, my heart, my soul, it seems to have won. And yet I will never be given to grief, for I am not my own to give.

Friday, March 04, 2011

Next day reflections

Because of our vision and how it works, we see one layer of the world. One, thin, single layer. God can see countless layers of the world, the rays of light, the color of darkness, the wind in the air, the spirits we walk in and among, the layers our souls are made of, each and every one. We see one little layer, the flesh of our skin, we see the texture of a shirt, the bright colors of a comic book, and yet we can't even see all of it! Most of it actually. Did you notice the trees on your way out the door today? How many times did you see someone you knew today? What's the color of your house? So many things we don't even see on our own plane of vision. It's practically impossible to stimulate your brain with so much information at all times. (I say practically because I refuse to say impossible)
So if we're so limited in such an already limited vision, how can it be that God sees everything in our field of vision, plus every other possible vision? He is so infinite!! Just sitting down and think about this simple fact puts things into an amazing perspective, doesn't it?

Thursday, March 03, 2011

In pyschology we're learning how the eye works and what we really see is just a bunch of waves, the colors depend on the length of waves, etc. All that we see is just stimulation. Look at the desk, that wood painted plastic and what we see of it is just a thin layer of waves, even though no matter how hard you look at it, it never changes. Look around. It all seems somehow less concrete. Everything that I see is just what my brain translates what it sees into. My 'real' is not so solid anymore.
Now think about what God sees. He doesn't just see the visual surface of anything, He sees the light, the rays, the beams, the constant vibration of matter, the force of gravity, how thin our reality really is, how we think we have such a solid hold on it, how we don't.
Reality seems... thinner now. Well, at least the physical reality does. I wonder what would happen if I looked through this lens for too long.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

To Toni


I do want you to know,
You are a beautiful young girl. You may get trapped in what this world wants of you, or what you -think- it wants of you, but I want to break that right now. I look at your profile picture and I see this marvelous beauty, eyes perfectly shaped and complexion flawless. Hair straight as a pin and curved just so around your face.
Then I look into my memory of the frizzy haired girl with the big grin and the glasses. That grin that reached the eyes and broke the 'perfect shape' and made it into something even more fabulous. The hardy laugh that came from the gut and left you nearly breathless, the quick wit and humor that came from a sarcastically curled grin and showed through the eyes behind the glasses, shining with something more devious than mischief. The genuine feelings that bore through those eyes. -That- is what beauty is.
Your picture and my memory bring together the picture of your beauty, but only one will bring to view your nature and strength and courage -everything- that I love about you. Please believe me and never forget that.
I love you my dear little Toni. I wish you the best on your next year in your journey and will be here when you need me love.

Sunday, January 09, 2011

Always there, Never noticed

I happen to be reading “Someplace To Be Flying” currently under the recommendation of Black. I also happen to be on a “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” kick as of a few days ago. I have happened to find a stark difference between the two.

When I was young, as most children did or so I believe, I was want to have daydreams about finding an awesome power coded in my DNA, brought into the light at the height of when I was needed and of course rescue those close to me and such. There was always a monologue about the powers and how it’s different and so on.

Now, as I’ve noticed with Someplace To Be Flying, there are never monologues. Whoever is involved with the Old Folk and has the spirit of an animal never really tell people. The off hand person might snoop around and such, but they never get a straight answer. There is no glory in it, there is no incredibility of the gift they have; there is simply what they are. When someone finds out about them, their scope of the world might be completely frazzled and now off-kelter, but there’s nothing to do about it. It simply is, nothing more.

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is the kind of story I used to relish (and still do if the movie is made just right, as is so). Simple: kid has powers, world revolves around him, he saves the day, only a few people know. Awesome. He gets the monologue with the girl, very short and to the point (not my style, but he did it well) and he continues on with his powers, learning more about the world that has been introduced to and they all live happily, excitedly, ever interestingly after.

There are no monologues. There are no powers that can be seen with the naked eye and easily explained through a monologue. There is a chance happening-by-er who might or might not understand. Once they are gone the legacy is stopped. Few people who know pop up around the board, believers coming in and out of existence, but more likely than not they take it to their grave silently. The few and far between.

With The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the sorcerers have always been around, only a few and very far between. They go out of their way to hide their magic and not be noticed. Their monologues are mandatory. For Someplace To Be Flying, there is no way to even bring it out into the open. Any who would try to give their monologue run the high risk of an insane asylum. So they continue, unnoticed and but always there. Living just as they would if their society of the gifted were on their own, and to anyone who might become curious, well let’s just hope they enjoy riddles. 

So who are they?

Thursday, January 06, 2011

Wake up Little One

In the car we hurry to the gas stop, praying the fill up will be smooth and quick, retaining any heat the car might have accumulated before it’s turned off. She breaths and falls into herself, nearly collapsing in her seat. She feels the strings of a puppeteer. "

“Wake up little one.”

The strings bounce her limbs an inch or two off the ground repeatedly, but no higher. She continues to clear her mind to fend off any possibility of it forcing a conclusion to the strings layed out before her.

“Wake up little one.”

Time seems to want to move onto the next thing, she certainly does. She waits as she’s bounced over and over.

“Wake up little one.”

The voice speeds it’s consistent chant. It never varies, never slows, just continues.

“Wake up little one”

She searches for another meaning.

“Wake up little one.”

She thinks the worst of what this might be.

“Wake up little one.”

This seems a set up for manipulation

“Wake up little one.”

What else could puppet strings mean?

“Wake up little one.”

She stops.

The strings slow.

“In the name of God the Father, in the name of the Lord of Creation. In the name of Jesus Christ. In the blood of Christ I bind anything and everything off of me that is trying to manipulate me. Anything and everything of ill intent be gone.”

She waits.

The strings grow gently taught.

“Wake up little one. Wake up.”

Miles Up

Miles Up

Above one layer of cloud cover I close my eyes against the plane window, shelter them from the light with my hand, and open them to the night sky. No stars to appear as of yet, but below, just below against the grey and mist are hints of lights. As if someone had walked the clouds carrying a leaky pail of foslouresent pain in hand 20 years ago and now the dull memories of the slips remain. So many cities. So many clouds of life. Each new from the next, yet each the same pale shade of glow.