tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71671772711631684472024-03-13T23:14:09.915-07:00Clarity...A search for sense in my lifeAARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.comBlogger157125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-66922532077152773812013-10-28T16:36:00.001-07:002013-10-28T16:36:06.396-07:00Some days I feel lost, as though I am a wandering soul with no real trajectory and no safe haven to call home. It is a lonely notion I know, and though I'm not fond of this sentiment, I can rarely seem to shake it. But then, in a moment, I'm overwhelmed by people who love me. A simple phone call, and a friendly conversation all neatly tied up with an "I love you" and I melt. I am selfish and get wrapped up in my own head and forget all those people from my past who have walked alongside me all the way. But there they are, right when I need them. A gentle reminder that I am loved. Thank you Nila Lane for always being there.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-89859855624003793442013-05-07T17:27:00.000-07:002013-05-07T17:27:42.516-07:00Back and forth, to and fro-such is the state of my mind right now. As I've said before, I miss the me whom I used to be. I wonder if that quiet, pensive girl is still dwelling somewhere in the midst of my chaotic day to day life, or has she gone by the way side and been replaced by work and responsibility? Is that part of me dependent on someone else? Does that piece require another half that isn't present without the right other person around?
I used to sift through pages and pages of philosophy and theology for hours on end, toiling with my thoughts, beliefs, and fears. Now I sit, dumbed down, watching pointless TV shows or scrolling through fashion blogs feeding my love for absurdly priced footwear. While that's all well and good, I wonder at times if the girl of substance is still around. I miss her. I miss the sweet serenity of sitting with my thoughts and sorting through them no matter the chaotic manner in which they present themselves. I miss the hollow melancholy and swells of music that once filled not just my room but also my head and heart. Where to go to find them again? Where to find that peaceful space?AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-84950678435957900632013-04-25T19:23:00.001-07:002013-04-25T19:23:58.444-07:00why is it that unconditional love is such a surprising notion? should it not be the very nature and foundation of any real friendship? isn't the point of a friendship to be involved with someone who loves and appreciates you for who you are in your entirety and not in spite of who you are?
so often I am insistent that people grant me the grace and mercy to have the freedom to be myself and feel whatever why i may choose. how then can i not allow the same consideration for others? that being said, do not think i find this an easy task. for some reason it is the hardest for me when it involves my beloved mom whom i love and adore and respect dearly. yet she has this overwhelming power to annoy me to no end? why? i wish i knew. For whatever reason it is so difficult for me at times to be gentle and kind to the one person who deserves it most. certainly i need to make a far more concerted effort to do so.
what about in everyday life? i know for other people being kind to strangers is far more difficult than being kind to loved ones. For me it's much easier. why? simple. they can't hurt me so there's never the risk of any love lost like with people in my inner circle who weld the power to tear away at my closely protected heart.
i don't know though. ultimately i think sharing this grace, mercy, and love is ultimately the whole point of Jesus in the first place. while all the pageantry of church is lovely, it doesn't hold a candle to treating people with dignity and respect. i for one will continue striving to do precisely that, particularly with my wonderful mother.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-57961472660443436982013-04-22T18:51:00.001-07:002013-04-22T18:51:49.816-07:00In April of 2009 I wrote a short bit about the memory of watching my dad die. June 2, 2013 will mark 18 years since he passed away. To my own astonishment I've lived far longer without him than I did with him. And yes, every time I think of him, my heart skips a beat, and the little pieces I've tried to mend back together crumble a bit again. This will be a lifelong process I am certain. The ebb and flow of time and experience has taught me this cycle will never end. And truthfully, that's okay. I don't need it to end. If it were to cease, I would cease to feel, and worse yet, I would have locked away all the memories of my beloved dad.
The important part is what I do with all this now. Shall I let it destroy me? It could even all these years later. I could allow those small cracks to shatter my carefully piece-mealed heart. Or I could go the other way and enshroud my heart like a fortress. Certainly that's the route I'm more inclined to go. Why? Because I'm selfish. I'm afraid. Scratch that. I'm terrified. I have no idea what to do with intense emotion. I have no place to put it and, shockingly, no frame of reference for how to handle it. (To any of my friends to whom I've ever seemed unsympathetic, truly I am sorry for being such an ass clown when it comes to this sort of thing.)
I'm older now than when I wrote that entry (obviously I know). But time, as Patty Griffin says, "will do the talkin' and years will do the walkin'. I'll just find a comfy spot and I'll wait it out." That my friends is pretty damn close to what I've done. I have protected myself, kept people at arm's length, never gotten involved with anyone so deeply it hurt too much to let them go, and you know what? Now here I am at the ripe old age of thirty-freaking-two and I'm still clueless about to have a relationship. I'm beginning to think it's about time I learned.
Comments, thoughts, suggestions??? What does anyone else think about this??AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-79602568035224986602013-04-15T17:59:00.001-07:002013-04-15T17:59:55.644-07:00It's no secret I love Andrew Bird. Literally had he asked me to drop everything and go on tour with him when I met him last year, I'm sorry everyone I would've left behind, but I would've taken off so fast no one would be the wiser. So but WHY do I love the great, seemingly eccentric, intellectual musician? Well because I'm sucker for one thing. Damn if I don't fall for musicians every time. But the real reason? Have you listened to his lyrics??? He writes the most eloquent songs I've maybe ever heard. When he steadily croons "I dreamt you were the cosmonaut of the space between our chairs, and I was the cartographer of the tangles in your hair" to quote Rachel Zoe "I die!" Okay, so no one tell Andrew Bird I quoted Rachel Zoe while discussing his music. I'm pretty sure that completely offend him.
In the same song I just referenced "Armchairs", the ever wise Mr. Bird sings that "you need to learn to love the ebb just like the flow." Pretty savvy eh? I think so. I'm also a big fan of "grab[bing] hold of [my] bootstraps and pull[ing] like hell" but I digress.
The reason I was listening to this song today, despite it's overwhelming swells and beautiful melodies, is that I was thinking of the people in Boston who suffered the worst Monday I can think of in a while. I wondered to myself how someone handles a situation like that. When you start thinking about it, there are LOT of different arenas that need to be taken care of on a day like this. Of course there's the obvious, caring for the injured and for those whose loved ones have passed away. Then there are also the people who knew no one in the blast but are still shaken just the same. Hell, I would be. After such a catastrophic event, someone has to come in and clean it all up. I hate to be dismal, but if you start really thinking about what all that potentially entails, it's horrific to say the least. Then there are all the emergency personnel who have to be organized to protect and serve the public. And I know no one is really a fan of politicians, but regardless, we've entrusted these people with our safety, and now everyone from a patrolman all the way up to the POTUS are scrambling to find the who and why behind all this and punish those responsible and find a way to try to ensure this won't happen again. And what about the business owners whose shops and restaurants were destroyed? And the children who are now afraid to walk down the street?
I wonder, how is it that these people muster up the gumption to pull up their bootstraps and learn to love the ebb just like the flow? There is now a permanent shift in their perspective of the world. The ways in which they view literally everything will alter. I'm not quite sure how one might digest that. To go back to Andrew Bird, at the end of the song he talks about how "we'll get back at them all, with epoxy and pair of pliers." I get what he's saying here, but I wonder, what will be enough for these people? How will they move on with their lives? What do the mothers tell their children when they ask why Daddy will never be home again in time for dinner?AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-60203400937753075742013-04-08T16:07:00.000-07:002013-04-08T16:07:33.430-07:00Who's Your Daddy?Is there a God? Or a god? gods certainly, but God? That's entirely different. See what a difference correct grammar and punctuation make? Maybe not, but I see the difference. I wonder about God fairly often, although, I must admit less so as of late? Why? Eh...a number of reasons that mostly are irrelevant, or at least I think they are at this juncture. Going forward, like most anything else, there is a distinct possibility that my thoughts there may change.
Anyway, God...I remember when I was a kid I tried to envision what he may look like. Somehow at the ripe old age of something like four I had decided that God looked Atlas. Yep that one. The guy who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders. Now that I think about it though, that's seemingly fitting. The only difference though is that in my head, God was outlined in this fly looking white light. Atlas, or whomever it was in a 4 year old's head, was just kind of grey and cementish. (Yes I see the irony of me previously mentioning correct grammar and now making up a word. Sue me.) Sometimes even now I reflect back on that Lite Brite version of God in all of his glowing splendor. I miss thinking of him that way. He was big and pretty bad ass sitting there in his stoic glory. Totally the guy you would pick first for kick ball if for no other reason than he scare the shit out of the other team. Some days I could really go for that idea.
Then there are other days and with them come other thoughts, and sometimes no thought of God at all. But I like to sit and wonder and imagine what he might be like and why and likewise why not. Like today for example I think I have the stereotypical Jesus hanging out in my head. The guy with the wavy brown hair, that heavy white robe with the blue sash, and let's be honest-some epic cheekbones that would make the likes of Kate Moss blush with envy. That Jesus is the kind you would almost definitely smoke a joint with as you sat under the Joshua Tree, or at least I would anyway. I kind of really like that Jesus, even though I can't fathom how he managed to keep that white muslin so clean while traipsing around Jerusalem barefoot and all. I mean, I can't make it through breakfast without getting something on my clothes. Anyway, overall, this version seems like a reasonably cool guy-laid back, open minded, gentle, easy to talk to-I feel like I'm describing my ideal date. Is it weird to say I would date Jesus?
Okay, so then there's other Jesus or God. The two terms essentially are interchangeable right? So but this other guy, he's a total ass. I mean really, screaming damnation, hellfire, and brimstone like some enraged drunk at a bar. I wouldn't serve that Jesus a drink for anything. No sir. I'd have him escorted out so fast. Why? Because that Jesus is the one who allows pain and suffering. That's the guy who sends people to hell, which I just can't get on board with no matter how hard I try. That Jesus seems to forget all those really lovely things he preached to thousands of people. He seems like a "do as I say, not as I do" sort of fellow, and well, those sorts just can't be trusted.
So I'm curious, what does God look like to you? Why? How do you reconcile asshole Jesus with badass Jesus?AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-41215982476274638282013-04-01T18:22:00.000-07:002013-04-01T18:22:31.583-07:00Sometimes it seems the me I used to be is little more than a distant memory. Now my time is comprised mostly of work, or doing things with friends, and maintaining relationships. I used to have this quiet solitude. It was my own blissful respite, away from the world, where I could wade through my thoughts and even acquire new ones. Books, movies, and music kept me company and filled my head with all sorts of dreams and ideas. Even as a child I was quite taken with the notion of dreams. I still remember Gene Wilder in "Willy Wonka" saying "We are the music makers and the dreamers of the dreams." I'm with ya' Gene, even though you look creepy as hell in that Willy Wonka costume. But that idea of a world of music and dreams. Oh to live in that place...to find my way back.
Where are the conversations that circle around all sorts of philosophies and ideologies? Where are the rainy nights with good wine, good music, and better conversations? Are those lost and gone with days of the past? Are there more of them patiently awaiting my arrival in the future? I miss my nights tucked away alone in my dimly lit room, enveloped by the deep, soulful sounds of the likes of Zoe Keating. Surely those moments are not lost to times gone by. Surely the girl I once was is still there beneath the piles of paper and social obligations. And maybe the answer is simple enough...turning off the technology and learning to say no to find the girl who dreams the dreams and dares to ask the questions once again.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-30115110583709680262012-10-18T11:26:00.002-07:002012-10-18T11:26:49.280-07:00i've been asked to write a short blurb about my lovely friend michelle...one that captures her love of beauty and art. yet i sit here, with a head full of words, and seemingly nothing to say. i'm reminded of Bukowski who so eloquently states that writing should never be forced. i couldn't agree more. that same notion applies to all art though as when it is something not derived from the heart it's rather meaningless. the true beauty of art lies in the love, the heart, and the soul it takes to create it. Bukowski said with regards to writing "If you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, then do something else."
Michelle waited, and my oh my did things come roaring out of her. Zeal for life, love of beauty, compassion for mankind, and unwavering peace. These are things that her art displays with big, bold paintings in fantastic colors. Each brush stroke a way to share her passion with the rest of us who maybe couldn't come to it quite on our own. AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-8868836967081433162012-09-20T20:03:00.000-07:002012-09-20T20:03:53.190-07:00it's strange sometimes the realizations you have in a seemingly random moment. i don't think they're random at all though. i think we know the answer all along, it's just in a moment that we choose to recognize it. in my own life i think this is true anyway. the answers often are there, right in front of me, but instead of looking directly in the looking glass, i try to peer through it and make things what they aren't. like alice, i'd rather slide down in the rabbit hole.
it's funny, tonight brittney said,"you like nothing more than to get lost by yourself." i hadn't thought of it that way before, but she's right. even if getting lost means nothing more than roaming around the mall alone, looking at the pretty things and watching all the people. i like the aloneness. i relish my quiet solitude, even if it's found in the middle of Manhattan. i am alone, and there is peace and independence in that. sometimes i want to share the joy i find in those times with others, but i'm afraid it would be lost on them, as the fun of something like a football game is wasted on me.
so that may be my answer...my beloved solitudeAARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-81917060487150857492012-09-08T17:47:00.000-07:002012-09-08T17:47:16.363-07:00because i stand on the periphery means i love no less than another. i just do so quietly, and in my own way. still my heart is heavy, and my soul is weak with sorrow. i cannot verbally depict the sentiments that overwhelm my heart. waves of sorrow wash over me, yet all i can visualize is Michelle's beautiful smile that could light up the world.
i can see her dancing and hear her laughing. i can remember her soft and pensive advice when we discussed our lives. i can see the joy in her eyes and hear the delight in her voice over nothing more than a normal Monday afternoon lunch.
This girl lived life. She showed us all how to do it the right way. She enjoyed every moment and lived in the here and now. She adored every single one of us, each in our own way. she loved us so well, the weak, the faint of heart, the weary, the down-trodden. Michelle was like no other. Truly she loved as Christ loved.
God bless you Michelle, and thank you. I am touched by your life every day, and always I will carry you with me. You have left the most lovely legacy. You have loved well.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-84488896626598363162012-05-13T08:16:00.002-07:002012-10-25T18:41:03.287-07:00home...not necessarily a geography exactly. not quite a specific person. no i think it's that overwhelming sense of peace, the sort where at last, your soul is at rest. when i feel a wash of quiet bliss, a transcendent peace, and a wide-eyed wonder...i know i am home. for me, that is largely a specific geography...my mountains in north carolina. there i can sit and simply be in awe of splendor and beauty surrounding me. i can turn off all the whirlwind thoughts. i can simply be. it is there, nestled in those grand and rocky crags that i know all is well and right with the world, even if but for just a moment. it is there that i can be free from all encumbrances of the everyday. life is not weighty or complicated there sitting by a blazing fire looking out over the rolling hills speckled with trees. there all my worries are washed away by the sound of the waterfall tumbling down the smooth, time worn rocks and boulders. there i have found my home.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-28425482002360173892012-05-03T16:59:00.000-07:002012-05-03T16:59:21.932-07:00Lately I've been considering the idea of being "right". Not that I'm against being right, regardless of a given situation, in fact, I yearn to be right, and often find that I am precisely that...right. But at what cost? What is it worth to be right? The more I think about it, the less I think being right is really all it's cracked up to be. Maybe I've become a bit of a pacifist over the years. Or perhaps I simply no longer see the value in fighting an uphill battle. I'm not entirely certain to be honest, but I have come to a firm understanding that being right most often comes at a cost.
Now maybe it costs me personally very little. But what does it cost the other person? Or actually, what might being right cost me on a personal level? Recently I've seen how being right in an argument or dispute costs people greatly. They lose sight of their character and integrity quite expediently. Suddenly all notions of a moral compass are gone as quickly as dandelion seeds blow in the wind. And with that...all is lost. Being right immediately loses all value. Yes, certainly, in a very superficial, fleeting way perhaps being right has some merit...some worth, but in the long run, when character and integrity are lost, the value of being right is less than nothing.
I have closely watched the actions of those in authority over me in the passing weeks and months and have been met with little more than extreme disappointment and frustration. While I'm well aware that at times people get angry and frustrated and often it is difficult to refrain from allowing emotions to take over, I have, much to my dismay, been witness to complete disregard for others, total disrespect, immaturity, and an utter loss of character and integrity. Sadly I must admit people on my own team have acted in these ways, and truly it is nothing short of humiliating. I am horrified at the way my coworkers have treated others with such utter disregard for given trades and with a complete lack of understanding for the work that must be complete. To my horror, people have been cursed out and bad mouthed, and when the recipients of such behavior have apologized for the part they played in the act, they were met with nothing more than a callous "OK"...not even an "I'm sorry too."
But this is the way of the world in which we live. As sad as it may be, this is the rule, not the exception. But I then think back to St. Francis of Assisi and his wise words to preach the gospel always, and only when necessary to speak words. So I shall continue to go about the business of life and do my best to maintain a calm spirit and to react with kindness, compassion, respect, and understanding. I'll choose this because if being right costs me my integrity, then I'd rather be wrong.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-70514931140779643932012-04-11T05:03:00.003-07:002012-04-15T06:10:23.924-07:00$4.96At church Sunday Kris encouraged us to feast over the next 50 days...the Great 50 Days to be exact, those following Easter. That's a lovely idea in theory, but what if you were unable to feast? What if you simply did not have the means to participate in this joyous celebration?<br /><br />This morning on my way to work, I had to stop and get gas. I was initially in a bit of a hurry, and my mind was racing to remember everything I had to do during the day. I stopped at a gas station in my neighborhood, and as I got out of the car to pump my gas I couldn't help but think "ugh, I hope no one asks me for money", which, in my neighborhood is a fairly common occurrence. Sure enough though, as soon as I got out of my car, a gentleman walked up to me and asked for cash. "sir, I'm sorry, but I don't have any cash." which to be fair, i didn't have any. He held out his hands, filled with a few Starlite mints and pocket lint and said "but this is my breakfast. Please will you buy me something to eat? I'll pump your gas for you." How's that for a humbling Wednesday morning? <br /><br />I finished pumping my gas and took the man inside to get something for breakfast. His request wasn't extravagant by any means. He wanted 2 hot dogs, 2 bags of chips, and a can of soda. This was his feast. It was a grand total of $4.96. I still have the receipt. It's a good reminder of humility, compassion, and kindness. <br /><br />I sit here in my warm, cozy bed with a hot cup of coffee and the freedom to go anywhere I'd like to eat whatever I choose should I so desire. I can feast as little or as much as I want to, yet this man...his feast is worth more to me than most any other. I learned so much from such a brief exchange, the least of the lessons being that a feast can cost as little as $4.96AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-46034308403869905232012-04-08T19:52:00.002-07:002012-04-08T20:00:28.184-07:00it's Easter today, and up until this point i was filled with a great joy far beyond anything that could be manufactured on this earth. there was a fullness there, a wholly enveloping gladness and peace, and thankfulness beyond compare. my heart was filled with all of this, right up until the point when i saw a dear and beloved friend choosing to willfully hurt himself. yes that's a redundant statement. that's the point. <br />i'm more than willing to grant mercy and grace and even extensive compassion and understanding when people are dealing with some difficult issue. i get it. really. i've had more than my fair share to deal with honestly. yet it never ceases to quite simply break my heart and truly sadden me and break my heart to see people i love inflict pain or maladies upon themselves. <br />i wonder if this is part of the suffering that we're called to endure as Christians. i doubt it though. but then i think perhaps it is part of learning discipline. perhaps that is more likely. i don't say any of this out of judgment. Lord knows i've dipped into plenty of untoward substances and activities. in fact that may be quite precisely why it saddens me so to see others make the same mistakes i did in the past. <br />i want to shake these people and walk them through my life so they see what i see. i want them to know the pain that i've known and to realize the impact of their actions. and this is the hardest part...to let them learn on their own and to walk away without a word or thought about it all. because i value relationships so very much, that i just cannot do. and therein lies my heartache...behind the thick walls and stone cold countenance...there the tears fall as i see my friends doing nothing more than causing their own pain.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-52332337068192308392012-04-08T06:29:00.004-07:002012-04-08T20:04:38.724-07:00recently the question was posed about what sort guy i'd go on a date with should he actually have the nerve to ask. that was followed by a point about whether or not the aforementioned guy would have to meet a certain standard or list of criteria. that made me start thinking...what would i put on that list?<br />i know a lot of people have a very clear cut image of the person they are seeking-much like how most little girls know every detail of their dream wedding prior to age 10. i was never that little girl though. i've never been much of a planner. i'm definitely the proverbial "fly by the seat of your pants" sort of girl, which is okay with me. i see no need to change as i enjoy living my life this way. <br />but back to this list. i suppose if i had to name specific attributes i'd start with character and integrity. if i were looking for someone, i'd want that person to choose to do the right thing simply because it is in fact the right thing, not because of any sort of acclaim that may come with it, and certainly not because he might feel compelled to do so because others may be watching. i want this theoretical man to do what's right for no other reason than he knows there is no other option. <br />i want him to be humble. now i don't mean that to read self-deprecating. that's wholly different. i mean that he is not proud or boastful. he puts others far ahead of himself regardless of the cost. he sees self sacrifice as an obvious response to the needs of others because relationships are worth more to him than anything else imaginable. that sort of humility.<br />hmm...i want him to be kind and gentle, but not so gentle that he's emasculated. gentle with his words because he knows the damage they can do, and kind and merciful in spirit. additionally, i hope he has the patience and wisdom to exercise enormous amounts of grace because God knows i need it. <br />then on the flip side, i want him to be fun. i want him to have as much zeal for life as i do. i want him to see an adventure in everyday events, and always seek reasons to celebrate. we have one life to live, and i want to live it fully. i don't want to drag around someone who lives vicariously through me. i want him to have his own adventures and stories to tell...and somehow, somewhere along the way our stories can merge. <br />and i want him to love me. not the novel idea of me, but actually me, with all of my quirks and idiosyncrasies, not despite them, but because of them. i want him to be secure enough to allow me to retain the freedom of being me. which, believe me, i realize that's actually asking for a lot. in turn though, i'd gladly give him the same respect. <br />lastly, just because i'm terrible with finance, i really need him to be great at it. i can manage fine on my own, but if a family were ever involved, it's all him. i'm glad to relinquish that right. <br />so that's my list. it sounds simple, but in practice it seems to be quite difficult really. people are tricky too. you have to watch them. at first, a lot of men appear to exhibit these qualities, but it's a facade they put up to try to bag the girl. not to say that girls don't play the same coy games, but the one i want...he won't play any games. he'll shoot straight and be honest to the point it hurts. he won't have to tell me how great he is or how he could fabricate some great relationship with me or anyone else. he won't romance me with silly flowers and gifts because he'll know those things are fleeting. he'll simply be. his actions will speak volumes, and he won't require so many words.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-86389363855659039762012-04-02T18:26:00.003-07:002012-04-02T19:07:01.216-07:00thoughts from the mountain<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvNTxo8z9q00orBJpShG2C8J4Qt0XuCEFAi-SctAJVVB5FFNQ_RcppknFfM52YzY5_iwm2eA_j0vUTOzsVNC15X-CNPJKNuoWigaxVreGfVgVW4O7q1o4k0dkQ7H5GyRc6qrvr8nl6w2c/s1600/IMG-20120331-00742.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvNTxo8z9q00orBJpShG2C8J4Qt0XuCEFAi-SctAJVVB5FFNQ_RcppknFfM52YzY5_iwm2eA_j0vUTOzsVNC15X-CNPJKNuoWigaxVreGfVgVW4O7q1o4k0dkQ7H5GyRc6qrvr8nl6w2c/s320/IMG-20120331-00742.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726990182195830546" /></a><br />home is an idea that is incredibly important to me. i'm not sure if it's because i'm deeply relational, or that i yearn for a sense of belonging somewhere. either way, i long for that peace of finding a place to call home.<br />for the longest time i was certain i'd never feel at home and feel settled unless i moved to NYC. i spent days dreaming of the life i might lead there. now though, looking back over the years, i wonder if perhaps that wasn't because i somehow thought i could hide my past and all of my issues tied to it in the midst of the hustle and bustle and sights and sounds of the city. <br />when i drove up to NC the other day in the cool, overcast, perfect Ali weather, winding around the curves that snake their way through the Nantahala and past the Cullasaja, the craggy cliffs looming both above and below me, then i knew the mountains will always have my heart, and thus always be my home. <br />it isn't the mass of rock and stone that holds my heart so closely. no, it's the serene quiet, the peace, and the overwhelming beauty that allows me to settle in and be at rest. just sitting on the deck overlooking the rolling field, in the still quiet of the rainy morning, i am cozy despite the chill in the air. i feel as though i'm enshrouded in a deep, peaceful respite, on that has a slow rolling cadence like a low rumble of thunder.<br />i can see the thick, grey clouds hanging on the mountain tops. the muted color is broken up ever so slightly by hills dappled with the first greens of spring. in the distance i can hear the waterfall rushing over the smooth, old, worn rocks. the damp breeze gently blows across my face like a gentle kiss. this, yes this, is home.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-91861686825488561232012-03-29T17:44:00.002-07:002012-03-29T18:07:26.179-07:00I have this box of memories that i keep tucked away under my bed. within the pastel colored cardboard confines of this otherwise uninteresting box are years of my life, and moments once forgotten, but always treasured. <br />you see this box has a card that my dad sent to me one year with flowers for Valentine's Day. Since then, I've received flowers on Valentine's a handful of times, but never have they meant as much as that single little card. Then there is a racquetball that I've kept for years just so I can remember my dad running around and enjoying life. There are pictures of course and some of his old cards from auto auctions. I kept this "fancy" wooden pen set he had at his desk at his dealership. I even have notepaper with old memories written down in my childish handwriting as an attempt to hold on to him forever. Then there is an old birthday card upon which he wrote a reminder to me to never forget him. certainly not the least of all these things is his Bible, well worn as his long, thin fingers used to so often flip through the pages. There are silly pictures he let me draw in the back cover of his Bible, and the front is filled with Bible verse I wrote in there as a child. And then tucked away in Isaiah, my dad's favorite book of the Bible, is a stack of his notes neatly folded, waiting on someone to come back and read them again one day.<br />these things are not easy to sort through, yet i'll never get rid of them no matter how many times i move and throw things out. these things i will treasure always. but as i flip through the cards and papers, i'm struck by my dad telling me to never forget him. truly i am saddened because i did not ever forget him, but for such a long time, i forgot all he taught me. i can only imagine how disappointed he might have been and how hurt. <br />these days though as time moves forward and i come back to what i knew all along, i am hopeful to not forget again. i am learning to wait patiently, to come to my own understanding, and to operate out of grace, mercy, and forgiveness. i have learned my lesson. hopefully in the future reminders of my dad will not be met with remorse, but with joy for knowing he would be proud.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-34891707834729584292012-03-29T12:43:00.002-07:002012-03-29T16:52:57.340-07:00i'm not much of one for fabricated emotion. i don't fall for romance. i've been chauffeured about in bentley's and the like. i've been the recipient of sycophantic flattery. i've had my share of flowers and fancy dates. i'm phased by none of it. i simply don't think it's real. i'm so much happier, delighted even, by completely direct honesty and quality time and conversation shared over something as simple as a cup of coffee. i just don't go for the hollywood version of love. i want something real. <br /><br />but this is where, for so long, i've had such difficulty with the church. for years i've thought of church as well, to borrow a term from a friend, a "god mart" of sorts. everything is produced. the lights, cameras, music, videos, etc. i felt as though there was a copious amount of meaningless pageantry, but as long as you showed up wearing the right pair of jeans, you were in the right spot. <br /><br />that kind of thing just isn't my scene. i remember the days when i was consumed by what i was wearing and what i looked like. now though, i'm doing really well to actually run a brush through my hair. appearances just aren't high on my list of priorities. the thing about is though, Jesus wasn't too concerned about them either. <br /><br />no, in fact Jesus admonished those who did good deeds only for the notoriety. quite the opposite really. he instead revered those who quietly performed charitable and honorable acts. those are the people, the ones who didn't care how they appeared to others who were the most Christlike. that's one of the things i'm fond of in regards to Jesus and how he perceived people. <br /><br />but in the church, there is all this show. it's loud, sometimes even abrasive and almost garish at times. all the sights and sounds elicit these overwhelming emotions of sorrow, remorse, joy, or even grief or guilt. recently though i read a book that talked about the history behind a large portion of religious traditions. i gained a new respect for them...the meaningful customary ones though, not the silly rock concerts churches try to have each week. i can appreciate that in large part people took part in traditions to separate themselves as a nation, and to form an identity. isn't that what we all want? to be identified in some deep and meaningful way? to belong to a group? and to have a purpose?<br /><br />i paint so people ask if i'm an artist. i love music so people assume i love musicians (which to be fair, i used to but learned my lesson.) i work in project management yet i don't find an identity there, nor is it in my friends or anything else like that. no, i've learned that behind all these customs and traditions is an identity rooted in Jesus Christ. and that is where i'm learning to find my identity as well. not in works or appearances or societal classes, but in the one who went against the grain and treated people well, with kindness, love, and respect.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-26530792656212590722012-03-27T18:38:00.002-07:002012-03-27T18:50:24.328-07:00the more i sit and quietly watch, the more in awe i become of it all. i remember not long ago sitting in the midst of all these people and being either very irritated, or else thinking they were just flat out ridiculous for their silly piety and lack of reason and logic. <br />now? well now i can hardly take my eyes off of each of their lovely faces. brown eyes, green, blue, and grey. blonde, brunette, and fiery red hair. tall and short, slender and stout. each and every one beautiful in his or her own way. and the most beautiful part of it all? the fact that all of these individual people are able to come together peacefully and share a unified belief in a God of grace, mercy, and love. <br />every Sunday i watch each person walk forward to take communion. i'm truly struck by the profound nature of this act. not merely the taking of bread and drinking of wine, but by the unity exemplified by this action. i'm not skilled in estimating numbers much of any sort, but i'd guess there are several hundred people who come forth just during one service on a sunday. where else can you find so many different personalities, ideologies, philosophies, and walks of life come together in peaceful harmony? sure, there may be discrepancies over politics and societal issues. of course not everyone agrees on all aspects even of the bible; however, they can all stand and say they believe in a God who saves. a God who grants grace and mercy freely, and a God whose love endures forever. that alone is pretty compelling argument i think. <br />i know i should sit with my eyes closed and pray during communion, but really, i just tear my eyes away from that beautiful vision. it's similar to walking into a museum and being overcome by the astounding work of a brilliant artist, yet this is far more tangible. it is real. this isn't something fabricated. <br />maybe one day i'll stop watching, but i hope not. i hope to never grow hardened or apathetic to such a remarkable event. i hope to always find it as overwhelming, awe-inspiring, and all encompassing as i do a deep melodious song or a hauntingly emotional painting.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-39269870568505378052012-03-24T14:52:00.003-07:002012-03-24T14:56:32.014-07:00one of the things that has helped me come to a new understanding is the following quote from Bishop N.T. Wright...<br />"The arts are not the pretty but irrelevant bits around the border of reality. They are highways into the center of a reality which cannot be glimpsed, let alone grasped, any other way. The present world is good, but broken and in any case incomplete; art of all kinds enables us to understand that paradox in its many dimensions."<br />Additionally he states that, "It is central to Christian living that we should celebrate the goodness of creation, ponder its present brokenness, and, insofar as we can, celebrate in advance the healing of the world, the new creation itself. Art, music, literature, dance, theater, and many other expressions of human delight and wisdom can all be explored in new ways."<br />what an inspiring notion. i shall follow his lead :)AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-13189524009607869192012-03-24T13:13:00.002-07:002012-03-24T13:22:03.815-07:00i've been learning a lot lately, about humility, beauty, history, relationships...the list goes on, and in the end, all roads lead back what i've been searching for all along-the freedom to live my life, ask my questions, pursue beauty, and to love. and to my own awe and delight, it seems perhaps i've found it. yes, my questions will go on for the rest of my life. i'm a curious girl. i like to ponder ideas and concepts and explore alternative ways of thinking. i believe there is much to be learned in doing so. but i can sit here now and write this because i finally laid down my sword; laid it down and walked far away from it. i learned to choose my battles and that fighting against a God who would create such lovely people, such intriguing history, and beautiful sounds and sights to behold, just isn't worth it. i ran and fought for too long. i hope to let go of all i've kept so close and tight that has prohibited me from experiencing this freedom to the fullest extent. i am glad to find a place to belong and to learn along side such loving, compassionate, wise, and brilliant people. some may call it good fortune. i don't think so though. i think it was the strategy all along. i was just too prideful and self-absorbed to realize it. <br />i am a quick study. once i learn something, i get it. i may not always be able to describe it verbally, but in my own mind and heart it clicks. such is the case with this. there are no words that i know to clearly describe what i've learned, the understanding i've gained, but it is there. locked in. i get it. so thank you to you all who have walked alongside me, patiently waiting, letting me fight, and letting me come to my own terms with this all. your patience and love have played an insurmountable role in my experience thus far, and i look forward to continue learning with you all.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-31866553922513996702012-03-21T19:28:00.003-07:002012-03-21T19:38:33.699-07:00More and more lately I keep coming to the realization that, well...i'm an asshole. i am impatient to no end. and yes, i see the irony in that phrase. i am rarely very mindful of how my actions can affect others as i fully operate under the assumption that the world is in fact my oyster and i'll do as i please. that being said, i'm selfish. i am horribly intolerant of others and lack the understanding to give people grace and mercy for where they are in their lives when it doesn't match up to my expectations. i generally say what i please when i please with little concern for whether or not it may hurt someone's feelings, and if it does, i have no frame of reference as to why. <br /><br />these ultimately are actions. those actions though are indicative of something greater, the state of my heart. as i left small group tonight, my initial reaction was one of disdain and really discomfort. of course i then thought "i came and tried it and that's that. i'm out." well again, i'll reiterate, i'm an asshole. the girls in that group are lovely and welcoming, warm and hospitable, kind and compassionate. and yet i somehow derive from all those amazing attributes that i'm far above this little weekly meeting. ahh this pride of mine. i thought for so long that it served me well, and yet i see now how instead it has become the master and not me. <br /><br />i see that humility and peace are the things i should seek in my pursuit of God. i don't mean that sort of false humility either that more so resembles self deprecation. i mean sincere and honest humility. i mean a peace that requires me to shut my mouth and listen instead of asking questions; to break down the barricades that i thought so strategically guarded my heart. to be still and patient. to learn kindness and compassion. yes, these are the things i need to learn. not because i'm too hard on myself, but because i'd rather be honest and address the root of the problem instead of pretending it isn't there at allAARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-21091538184835972572012-03-20T18:51:00.002-07:002012-03-20T19:01:02.870-07:00someone recently mentioned being shocked that i have time for my art, whether it's writing or painting. i realize i'm generally incredibly busy, to the point that i'm not fond of it myself. however, i make time for those things that are important to me. <br />as i've begun to immerse myself back into church, i've forced myself to get involved and meet people and essentially make a new life. i'm engaging with people that before, i'd probably never even noticed. i am pursuing relationships that in the past would have eluded me much to my pleasure. <br />here i sit now though, tired, but delighted to have all of these new ventures before me. why? well, it's way out of reach from my comfort zone. that alone is a good thing. more importantly though, these people can help me see the things i've been longing for over the past years. they will sit and talk through my questions with me. they will earnestly pray for me, not to change who i am, but to help me understand and come to live a life of fullness and freedom. it isn't far off i know. i can see the chinks in my armor. i can feel the weight of the world slowly falling off my shoulders. no longer do i feel the need to simply shrug in order to bear the weight of a single day. <br />so here i am in pursuit of something more. desiring peace, compassion, and agape love. i am overwhelmed by the mercy and grace shown to me. i can see it clearly. for so long i've thought i'm just one of those people who endears herself to others in such a way that they feel compelled to grant me favor, but no, that is mercy...undeserved and unwarranted favor...granted upon me by a God who looks out for me even when i'm in the midst of a storm--even when that storm seems to never end. <br />the older i get though, the more i like, and even embrace those storms. it's the ebbs, not the flows, of life that are so lovely. the downs are the times when your character is developed and tested. the ups...not so much. it is for that reason that i prefer the sour to the sweet. i stand by the notion too that you can't have the sweet without the sour. well said Jason Lee. hopefully you all realize that's a reference to the movie vanilla sky :)<br /><br />anyway, as time passes, i'm slowly coming around. the cold, hard steel that once surrounded my heart is melting away with the warmth of love provided by the body of christ...a body that spans as far as the east is from the west.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-75988094832372186022012-03-19T18:50:00.002-07:002012-03-19T18:59:18.459-07:00is there a yardstick of sorts by which one's goodness is measured? is it fair to say we cannot have this relationship because i see you have work yet to do? isn't the nature of a relationship designed to be something that allows for each party to work toward a greater goal all while having the support of another? <br />so when do you know when you are good enough? what is the gauge...the measure? how will i know when i've achieved this lofty goal if i have no frame of reference for what the goal is, much less how to achieve it? <br />might it be better to simply sit still as i am and hold my ground? what if i weren't to change at all? there will never be any sort of extravagant and obvious shape-shifting change. i'll continue to be me. my core will still be based in love, honesty, kindness, and generosity. so what is there to change exactly?<br />bon iver wrote the most beautiful song. in it he says "i told you to be patient. i told you to be fine. i told you to be balanced, and i told you to be kind. and now all my love is wasted, and who the hell was i?"<br />might i wind up thinking that same thing? might i waste my time and patience on something fleeting? or am i the one who has a limited time in this relationship? how do you know without pursuing such an endeavor? how can you find out those things from a distance? what do these new relationships look like in a practical sense?AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7167177271163168447.post-89774008658370802052012-03-11T17:46:00.002-07:002012-03-11T17:53:40.962-07:00it is for this reason that i can sit and say i have been arrogant, foolish, and prideful. i know i have been wrong, and i am not being dramatic or too hard on myself. i am simply being blunt, honest, and to the point. <br />it is written:<br />1 Corinthians 1:18-25<br /><br />For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.<br /><br /><br />just this past wednesday, let's see, what was that? march 8 i believe. at the prayer service that night, i came to this realization regarding how i have been fighting so hard for so very long. i know i have been intent upon proving everyone wrong. i was so very angry and so very hurt. i wanted nothing to do with dog and pony show. i didn't want to be like those people. and then it hit me. i'm not like those people, and to share this common faith, i still will not become like them. i can be the one who shares this belief and yet isn't like the others. and that katrina my sweet friend, is my goal. i hope to be the one who people see as kind and gentle, compassionate and understanding, loving and generous, wise and hopeful. i pray that i don't become one of those who shuns others, treats people poorly, doesn't listen, and is too arrogant to admit her wrongs. i see how my intelligence is little more than foolish fodder. my questions, while some are valid and worth discussing, others are nothing more than a line of defense. <br /><br />i don't want to miss it all. i don't want to run anymore, and i am certainly not in this for a fight. i am weary after over a decade of gnashing at the teeth. i welcome this peace and this rest. i won't be foolish enough to turn it away again.AARicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02650943821589918987noreply@blogger.com5