I am made of straw and dry leaf
made to never last.
I am made to catch and burn
here today and then I pass.
Feeble limbs and fluff for brain
the lines I speak I was simply fed.
Lame I hang here lips uttering the inane
and I have not yet fled.
And I have not yet fled.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
"Blessed are the meek who shall inherit
The throes of death for all their merit
The right to stumble, to fail and perish
Doomed are those who hold and cherish
I tried to steal the moon from the sky
You hide behind your broken wings
Your dreams are all for better things
And in the dark we climb this slope
Cause the bravest thing of all is always hope
Goodbye, goodbye"
The throes of death for all their merit
The right to stumble, to fail and perish
Doomed are those who hold and cherish
I tried to steal the moon from the sky
You hide behind your broken wings
Your dreams are all for better things
And in the dark we climb this slope
Cause the bravest thing of all is always hope
Goodbye, goodbye"
Revised
Earlier it felt like I was falling, now that I've had time to breath I think everything is alright.
Alright as it can be...with my confusion, my pain, my...well there are a hundred thousand equally painful things.
What matters is I'm choosing, this moment, to breath.
There is an infinite combination of reasons to lay down and give up. There is an innumerable excuses and complaints I could log...but there is no solid point.
It's bad, can be really bad but it's not bad enough to just quit.
Pushing myself to bike about 25 minutes a day...about seven miles give or take...feeling the pain...this is a necessity.
Pain in this live is unavoidable.
It can either temper your body and soul, give strength, or it can destroy you.
Pain is inescapable.
Pain and the abscess thereof, are how we define our lives, how we give meaning and justification. We strive to avoid, to ignore, to neglect and run from.
But it's only in staring this bastard child of the Fall down that we begin to see who we really are. We can cry out at the injustice, at the pain and in disbelief. Or we can blindly charge in and die remembering what it means to be free and true to our nature, our created being.
Maybe this is still thinking negative...that the fight is inevitable, the break down of the body will happen...it'll be horrifying and painful. The only choice we have in the matter is how we face the Dark when it comes. Heads held high in pride or low in shame and regret.
I have an obligation to God, to family, to friends...to Love...to push my body and make it heal, make it shape, make it obey. I don't know how long my heart has, or my brain, my lungs or how intense the electrical nerves will blast before all is said and done...but I'm tired of running.
Of hiding behind this mask of my own design.
Maybe I'm not, maybe I'm seeing things only as I will so that I have hope...or maybe I'm starting to finally believe in choice.
Alright as it can be...with my confusion, my pain, my...well there are a hundred thousand equally painful things.
What matters is I'm choosing, this moment, to breath.
There is an infinite combination of reasons to lay down and give up. There is an innumerable excuses and complaints I could log...but there is no solid point.
It's bad, can be really bad but it's not bad enough to just quit.
Pushing myself to bike about 25 minutes a day...about seven miles give or take...feeling the pain...this is a necessity.
Pain in this live is unavoidable.
It can either temper your body and soul, give strength, or it can destroy you.
Pain is inescapable.
Pain and the abscess thereof, are how we define our lives, how we give meaning and justification. We strive to avoid, to ignore, to neglect and run from.
But it's only in staring this bastard child of the Fall down that we begin to see who we really are. We can cry out at the injustice, at the pain and in disbelief. Or we can blindly charge in and die remembering what it means to be free and true to our nature, our created being.
Maybe this is still thinking negative...that the fight is inevitable, the break down of the body will happen...it'll be horrifying and painful. The only choice we have in the matter is how we face the Dark when it comes. Heads held high in pride or low in shame and regret.
I have an obligation to God, to family, to friends...to Love...to push my body and make it heal, make it shape, make it obey. I don't know how long my heart has, or my brain, my lungs or how intense the electrical nerves will blast before all is said and done...but I'm tired of running.
Of hiding behind this mask of my own design.
Maybe I'm not, maybe I'm seeing things only as I will so that I have hope...or maybe I'm starting to finally believe in choice.
I'm not supposed to worry today...I was told to check it at the door and do my best to just relax...other people are feeling the large amounts of stress with everything else going on.
I'm okay I think.
The more I try to remember what hit me last night...the more difficult it is to grasp it. Mentally I'm a little scattered because I'm running out on medication and I'm having to split it...doctors are being annoying and won't keep giving me the stuff they have it on.
How do I find these guys?
The good news is that I've been given several leads on doctors.
Hmm I'll write more later...must go...
I'm okay I think.
The more I try to remember what hit me last night...the more difficult it is to grasp it. Mentally I'm a little scattered because I'm running out on medication and I'm having to split it...doctors are being annoying and won't keep giving me the stuff they have it on.
How do I find these guys?
The good news is that I've been given several leads on doctors.
Hmm I'll write more later...must go...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
It's impossible for me to pick a favorite U2 album...but Achtung Baby is helping me quite a bit right now...
"Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one but we're not the same
We hurt each other, then we do it again"
"Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one but we're not the same
We hurt each other, then we do it again"
Honestly
I am lying when I say I'm okay.
That I am feeling great and that the pain isn't so bad today.
But I think it's a lie that will save my life.
One of the more bizarre, yet practical, things C.S. Lewis wrote about in 'Mere Christianity' is how if we have trouble loving someone then we should pretend that we do. We should make ourselves act like we love them and eventually out mind and heart will follow suite.
For better or for worse I'm trying to apply that to my situation...I'm going to keep pushing for all the medical treatment I can get, continual exercising, doing everything I can to eat better and maybe even figure out how to sleep at night.
However I will be saying I feel better.
That I have hope about the future and I'm excited about the non particular future plans of which I have.
It's lie too but it's an EXCITING lie.
How often do I get to say that?
I'm a dirty, rotten, sinful liar and I just giggled about it.
Screw you logic! I'm in pain but I'm feeling better! I am to the point I'm going to stab the next doctor that refuses to give me pain medication...but I'll stab them with a smile!
Yes!
Fibromyalgia my *inset appropriate profanity laced euphemism*!
If this is the WORST then I laugh.
Yes at you disease.
If this is the worse it can get then I am sad my body can't punish me more.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Have I mentioned that I don't sleep much these days?
#_#
That I am feeling great and that the pain isn't so bad today.
But I think it's a lie that will save my life.
One of the more bizarre, yet practical, things C.S. Lewis wrote about in 'Mere Christianity' is how if we have trouble loving someone then we should pretend that we do. We should make ourselves act like we love them and eventually out mind and heart will follow suite.
For better or for worse I'm trying to apply that to my situation...I'm going to keep pushing for all the medical treatment I can get, continual exercising, doing everything I can to eat better and maybe even figure out how to sleep at night.
However I will be saying I feel better.
That I have hope about the future and I'm excited about the non particular future plans of which I have.
It's lie too but it's an EXCITING lie.
How often do I get to say that?
I'm a dirty, rotten, sinful liar and I just giggled about it.
Screw you logic! I'm in pain but I'm feeling better! I am to the point I'm going to stab the next doctor that refuses to give me pain medication...but I'll stab them with a smile!
Yes!
Fibromyalgia my *inset appropriate profanity laced euphemism*!
If this is the WORST then I laugh.
Yes at you disease.
If this is the worse it can get then I am sad my body can't punish me more.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Have I mentioned that I don't sleep much these days?
#_#
Drought of Living Death
It's funny who you will hear from when you least expect it.
Jesus, what the Hell am I doing messing with this stuff? I'm not playing with fire...I'm sitting in gasoline and trying to strike the match.
Are you still a God of peace? Purpose? Understanding? The Infinite One who is not bound by the limitations of flesh and broken spirit?
Speak to me please.
What am I supposed to do now? What step do I take to get out of this disgusting tar?
I'm tired of feeling my heart slip out of my chest and getting caught by the rapid changing world...I can't take much more of this jerking back and forth.
Helter skelter, from the top to the bottom back to the top again...I keep falling down this path and I hate it.
I hate it.
God I hate this flesh and wish it would burn away. How can I accept failure when it burns like a cancer I want to cut out? When it sinks further into my heart twisting me into this ugly caricature that looks so much like you?
I hate this heart, I hate this mind and I hate this body.
What You made was made good but now it's ugly.
Just like you.
"That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles,
Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic,
Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you,
To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But the world is ugly,
The world is ugly and it’s true,
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But with world is ugly,
The world is ugly even after you
Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service,
All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing can’t hurt us,
Sensationalized for virgin eyes, it’s graphic, it’s disturbing,
And it’s worse still to think it’s real,
Degrading and unnerving"
-Showbread, "Welcome to Plainfield Tobe Hooper"
Let the bones crack as I scream out this song
when all I ever wanted was to see Your face.
The beauty I forgot.
The majesty I never knew.
I'm so tired.
It has been so many years.
How do people push on in this planet?
It is so dry, so ugly and barren. Nothing like the home we never knew we may have left.
Two years of sitting here.
Two years of feeling my flesh rot
and my soul decay.
Two years of the same song
and two years of no relief.
Am I coming full circle
or just realizing I'm trapped in Hell?
I hate this prison that I've made.
This has to die now.
Every last painful moment,
everything I have been afraid of,
every wall I have built
and ever hidden sin.
I'm full of more lies, more deceit and more hypocrisy then I could ever know...but where this Hell has burned away there is growing hope. Flourishing in the pain, there is a revival coming.
A revealing.
This skin will be peeled back and what is underneath shall be shone. No more false pretension, no more hollow words and more deceit.
Everything I ever was shall be seen and I'll stand here naked, letting the flaws of my life be revealed. I can't hid from myself forever...because the cracks and here and are growing by the second.
There is no end.
There has never been an end.
Just a transition from this point, this life to the next.
Beauty redefined in the face of light
Jesus, what the Hell am I doing messing with this stuff? I'm not playing with fire...I'm sitting in gasoline and trying to strike the match.
Are you still a God of peace? Purpose? Understanding? The Infinite One who is not bound by the limitations of flesh and broken spirit?
Speak to me please.
What am I supposed to do now? What step do I take to get out of this disgusting tar?
I'm tired of feeling my heart slip out of my chest and getting caught by the rapid changing world...I can't take much more of this jerking back and forth.
Helter skelter, from the top to the bottom back to the top again...I keep falling down this path and I hate it.
I hate it.
God I hate this flesh and wish it would burn away. How can I accept failure when it burns like a cancer I want to cut out? When it sinks further into my heart twisting me into this ugly caricature that looks so much like you?
I hate this heart, I hate this mind and I hate this body.
What You made was made good but now it's ugly.
Just like you.
"That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles,
Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic,
Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you,
To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But the world is ugly,
The world is ugly and it’s true,
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But with world is ugly,
The world is ugly even after you
Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service,
All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing can’t hurt us,
Sensationalized for virgin eyes, it’s graphic, it’s disturbing,
And it’s worse still to think it’s real,
Degrading and unnerving"
-Showbread, "Welcome to Plainfield Tobe Hooper"
Let the bones crack as I scream out this song
when all I ever wanted was to see Your face.
The beauty I forgot.
The majesty I never knew.
I'm so tired.
It has been so many years.
How do people push on in this planet?
It is so dry, so ugly and barren. Nothing like the home we never knew we may have left.
Two years of sitting here.
Two years of feeling my flesh rot
and my soul decay.
Two years of the same song
and two years of no relief.
Am I coming full circle
or just realizing I'm trapped in Hell?
I hate this prison that I've made.
This has to die now.
Every last painful moment,
everything I have been afraid of,
every wall I have built
and ever hidden sin.
I'm full of more lies, more deceit and more hypocrisy then I could ever know...but where this Hell has burned away there is growing hope. Flourishing in the pain, there is a revival coming.
A revealing.
This skin will be peeled back and what is underneath shall be shone. No more false pretension, no more hollow words and more deceit.
Everything I ever was shall be seen and I'll stand here naked, letting the flaws of my life be revealed. I can't hid from myself forever...because the cracks and here and are growing by the second.
There is no end.
There has never been an end.
Just a transition from this point, this life to the next.
Beauty redefined in the face of light
Monday, August 24, 2009
And you wonder why I refuse to eat pork...?
Reading this about made me sick:
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/12840743/porks_dirty_secret_the_nations_top_hog_producer_is_also_one_of_americas_worst_polluters/1
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/12840743/porks_dirty_secret_the_nations_top_hog_producer_is_also_one_of_americas_worst_polluters/1
Christian Fiction
Okay.
A common question I get is since I enjoy writing, I want to be a writer and I am a Christian minister person thingy...why don't I write Christian fiction?
To be honest I find most Christian fiction to be uninspiring and boring at best, at its absolute worst it is merely a Harlequin romance novel rewritten with 'Christian' themes.
One of the principles that has guided my hand in both the creative and practical realm is that I have no desire to 'sell' or make a profit from Jesus. I have a very low threshold when it comes to dealing with anyone who reeks of being a televangelist...which is why I try so desperately to push away from those stereotypes and behaviors. And with the exception of a general feeling like I am an underachiever I feel that I have done a good job in that respect...I have nothing to really hide from and inevitably when some controversy will arise I have no desire to pin my worth as a human being (much less that of a Christian) on the equally fallible thoughts of other people.
The same disdain I have for the Christian music industry is the same I have for the Christian writing industry. There is an appalling lack of artistic innovation and an unnerving amount of cookie cutter clones that do nothing except beat the same tired horse time after time.
How is this supposed to be representative of how I feel about God and Jesus? If I can't take the time to write out and express my own vivid and unique understanding of this...thing...how will people begin to take it seriously? Sloppy and shameless copying do nothing except have a horrible reek, which is a fancy way of saying the chief concern is that of money.
That said, I can chase these ghosts forever. Talking about how tired I am of false pretense, the abuse of cliches and rail against the unjust splitting of infinitives which did nothing to warrant the splitting thereof...but it just becomes a mass of hot air after awhile.
What is it I have interest in writing?
I'm still working on that modern fantasy series that has been in my head for years. I keep using NANOWRIMO as an excuse to finally get down to the nitty gritty and start trying to put it into some logical order but writing is such an unbearably annoying process.
I enjoy looking at the finished work but it is the slugging it out, fighting to find words, struggling to find the least possible appalling metaphor that can get disheartening. I do not know how much untold hours I have spent just staring at a blank page almost overwhelmed by the possibilities of what could be.
There are themes I am interested in pursuing, themes that are quite Christian but I do not feel the need to 'baptize' everything I touch in the current Christian lingo and make everything other statement be about personal relationships with Jesus.
I want to find real artistic integrity and be able to write freely without feeling these group think (but still self imposed) limitations about what is Christian, what can be art and what can be used for good.
A common question I get is since I enjoy writing, I want to be a writer and I am a Christian minister person thingy...why don't I write Christian fiction?
To be honest I find most Christian fiction to be uninspiring and boring at best, at its absolute worst it is merely a Harlequin romance novel rewritten with 'Christian' themes.
One of the principles that has guided my hand in both the creative and practical realm is that I have no desire to 'sell' or make a profit from Jesus. I have a very low threshold when it comes to dealing with anyone who reeks of being a televangelist...which is why I try so desperately to push away from those stereotypes and behaviors. And with the exception of a general feeling like I am an underachiever I feel that I have done a good job in that respect...I have nothing to really hide from and inevitably when some controversy will arise I have no desire to pin my worth as a human being (much less that of a Christian) on the equally fallible thoughts of other people.
The same disdain I have for the Christian music industry is the same I have for the Christian writing industry. There is an appalling lack of artistic innovation and an unnerving amount of cookie cutter clones that do nothing except beat the same tired horse time after time.
How is this supposed to be representative of how I feel about God and Jesus? If I can't take the time to write out and express my own vivid and unique understanding of this...thing...how will people begin to take it seriously? Sloppy and shameless copying do nothing except have a horrible reek, which is a fancy way of saying the chief concern is that of money.
That said, I can chase these ghosts forever. Talking about how tired I am of false pretense, the abuse of cliches and rail against the unjust splitting of infinitives which did nothing to warrant the splitting thereof...but it just becomes a mass of hot air after awhile.
What is it I have interest in writing?
I'm still working on that modern fantasy series that has been in my head for years. I keep using NANOWRIMO as an excuse to finally get down to the nitty gritty and start trying to put it into some logical order but writing is such an unbearably annoying process.
I enjoy looking at the finished work but it is the slugging it out, fighting to find words, struggling to find the least possible appalling metaphor that can get disheartening. I do not know how much untold hours I have spent just staring at a blank page almost overwhelmed by the possibilities of what could be.
There are themes I am interested in pursuing, themes that are quite Christian but I do not feel the need to 'baptize' everything I touch in the current Christian lingo and make everything other statement be about personal relationships with Jesus.
I want to find real artistic integrity and be able to write freely without feeling these group think (but still self imposed) limitations about what is Christian, what can be art and what can be used for good.
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