#326

quiet
alone
heartbeat
wind
sirens

empty
full
grace
anger
mystery

Saturday musings

Sometimes I wish that the growth of mind/soul/spirit mirrored the growth of our physical bodies.

I remember being 14 and laying in bed at night and just wanting to cry because my legs hurt so badly. My mom used to tell me that they were growing pains. By the time I was 17 they had pretty much ended. I haven't gotten any taller since then and my body frame has pretty much stayed the same. I'm done growing. I'll never get any bigger, and physically, I am who I am.

With my mind/soul/spirit - not so much. I wish today that I could just reach a peak. I wish that my brain would just say "Ok, you have been defined. This is who you are. Deal with it." I swear sometimes I lay in bed and just want to cry and I'm half waiting and hoping for my mom to walk in with two ibuprofen and tell me that its just growing pains. This never ending process of learning and changing and stretching and growing is proving to be exhausting, and though I've survived it all, I don't very often feel like I'm any more aware of who I am than I was when I started. Sometimes I feel like I get glimpses, but those are quickly blurred by new pains in new places that require my attention.

songwriter's responsive reading

roll me away
roll me down
roll me over
roll me down

i will walk on
i will not pause
i will not ever
try to stop

there is no rhyme
and the reason is gone
Young is old
and i just don't know

i cannot stop
or i will drown
i must keep moving
i must roll on

roll me away
roll me down
roll me over
roll me down

Prayers to an Unknown God

I have always loved the Acts account that details how Paul the Apostle helps the Greeks identify their Unknown God. I wonder if you will remain hidden much longer or if some apostle is on the horizon that will help me see as well. There is something poetic about prayers to a God that I cannot define, and yet the irony of it all is more than a little disheartening.

My spirit tells me that you have been defined (at least as much as one with breath can comprehend). My spirit tells me to open the book and to absorb the community and that I will hear your voice in their midst. My spirit tells me to listen and to be Holy and that I will find you there, but I want you to be more tangible than that. I don't think you should be so much work to get to know.

Twisting

single cyclone
without any rain
dry disillusioned
grasping for traction
in the dirt

spinning and spinning
at unfathomable speeds
but going nowhere
gaining no ground exhausted
right where i started

in G

old blue books
with dirty awkward pages
telling stories that i
long to hope are true

are you there
are you listening
its quiet here
and i don't hear a thing

i don't want awkward pages
to read myself into
am i alive in the stories
that i'm living without you?