So, I'm sorry that I have been so out of touch lately, but to be fair, you try working at an office supply store for a few weeks... it would make anyone a little out of touch with reality... it's the fluorescent lighting... messes with your head. But you remember that fork I was talking about a few weeks ago? Well I think I'm at another one... and Lord knows I need to make a decision so no tragic and unexpected pushes in the right direction happen. I've really been feeling like God is using this time in my life to prepare me for the things in my life that are going to be permanent, I don't have any reason for that, but it's what my gut tells me. So I've been weighing my decisions carefully and trying to do what God wants me to do and lately I feel like I've been so caught up in doing the "right" thing that I've let my good intentions consume me. Granted, it doesn't sound like such a terrible problem, does it? But let me tell you something... if I was contemplating doing something wrong I could carry on, reminding myself that there's always forgiveness later. (That's right. Give all the disapproving looks you want but you know you've done it too.)
But Friday, I went out for a little coffee, because we all know if there's one place to go for sound answers... it's Starbucks (I know, I obviously learned nothing from my honest tea experience)... and on my way down... I saw 7 different rainbows. SEVEN. And it really got me thinking about Noah. You know, sometimes I feel like we don't give the guy enough credit. I mean, I guess I get why you never hear about his drunken spell and questionable interaction with his son after the flood but I don't think I ever really considered that God wiped out the entire world, but chose to save Noah and his family to continue on human kind... umm... that's kind of a big deal. If God had looked over Noah like we do, well, then we never would have had the chance to look him over to begin with... or we would have gills... and I'm thankful neither of those circumstances apply. You know, I bet people thought Noah was crazy. Heck, Noah probably thought he should check himself into the metal ward at times. But Noah was faithful. He was obedient... even when he didn't understand. And God spared him for it. It says "God remembered Noah."
God told Noah those rainbows were a symbol of His promise; yes, His promise not to wipe out all of man kind (you can uncross your fingers now), but also His promise to remember the covenant, to remember us. And it made me think, it's not so much about me remembering God in my decision, but knowing that God has never forgotten me... and no matter what I direction I decide to go... as long as I'm chasing after His voice, just like Noah, God will remember me. Sometimes... it's just a matter of waiting for the rain.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Because Israelites like Honest Tea too...
So today after work I finally had some time to myself. Granted, the house could have used a good cleaning, and the dishes needed to be done, I really could have used a shower (but what else is new really?), and my bed had been calling my name since noon, but it was about time that I just had some time. So I biked on home from work, changed into my favorite sweater and keds (yes, you've probably seen your grandmother in very similar apparel... but I'm telling you, someday, knitted stripes WILL come back), ripped the bobby pins out of my hair, and headed out, stopping only to pick up some dinner from my favorite little coffee shop on the way.
For the first time since I moved back home, I had a chance to really enjoy where I live. I finally had a few unregimented moments to remember just how much I love this town and all the good memories that come with it. It seems like so long ago that I had this kind of interaction with myself. I've been so lost in the structure of my days that I think I just needed to walk away and walk into myself for a bit. And I knew just where to go... I was headed to my happy place, a big oak in the center of town, with a book one hand and a bag with triscuits, hummus, and iced green tea in the other.
SO here I am, basking in all the little things that bring so much happiness (cause I know hummus and oak trees do it for you too) and I open up to read a little bit of Paul's encouragement for Timothy. After all, if you can't meet with God in your happy place, then where can you? (Yeah, yeah, I know all about finding God in your suffering too. No need for all you downers to go shoving Paul and his chains down my throat.) And just as I'm finishing up chapter 3 of Paul's second letter to Timothy, you know, the part about scripture being the answer for pretty much everything... it happened...
I took the last sip of my Honest Tea.
This may seem trivial to you, but for me, it's the best part of my organic caffeinated beverage experience. You see, when you finish off a bottle of Honest Tea, you can see the quote imprinted on the inside of the label. And those quotes have never failed to be applicable to my day. Every bottle holds some lesson necessary to my life at that time. No matter what I'm going through, Honest Tea is there to offer me a little anti-oxidant boost and an inspiring word. And here's what it told me today...
"Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine."
I sat there, trying to decipher the metaphor of this profound message, knowing that somewhere in those words, knowledge was being offered; all I had to do was find the deeper meaning...
Yeah, so you can see where this post is going.
Here I was trying to find wisdom from a label on a plastic bottle without giving a second thought to the God-breathed words sitting open on my lap. It's a good thing God likes losers... cause man, while I know it's hard to believe with my killer fashion sense and idea of a good time, sometimes, I really am a loser. It kind of made me think about the golden-calf mishap that came to be while Moses went up on the mountain to grab the Ten Commandments quick. You know, when they got impatient and decided they needed a little moral boost and direction... so what better than a cow made of recycled jewelry? We all know those earrings were out of date anyway and if worse came to worse, they could sell it no problem on etsy. People love recycled art.
Okay, but seriously, they were looking for answers from a statue inspired by cattle while Moses was getting the answers directly from the Big Man himself! Why, that's almost as dumb as expecting an Honest Tea label to speak truth into your life while the Truth itself is sitting right in your lap... ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. Yeah. Crap.
So I take back what I said, maybe finding God in your happy place isn't always that easy... actually in my case, and the dummies at the bottom of the mountain, He was staring us right in the face. Maybe the hard part is just realizing He was never the one that was lost to begin with... we were.
Welp, I told you. Did anyone get me that ticket to Canaan yet?... cause I heard they're down an Israelite.
For the first time since I moved back home, I had a chance to really enjoy where I live. I finally had a few unregimented moments to remember just how much I love this town and all the good memories that come with it. It seems like so long ago that I had this kind of interaction with myself. I've been so lost in the structure of my days that I think I just needed to walk away and walk into myself for a bit. And I knew just where to go... I was headed to my happy place, a big oak in the center of town, with a book one hand and a bag with triscuits, hummus, and iced green tea in the other.
SO here I am, basking in all the little things that bring so much happiness (cause I know hummus and oak trees do it for you too) and I open up to read a little bit of Paul's encouragement for Timothy. After all, if you can't meet with God in your happy place, then where can you? (Yeah, yeah, I know all about finding God in your suffering too. No need for all you downers to go shoving Paul and his chains down my throat.) And just as I'm finishing up chapter 3 of Paul's second letter to Timothy, you know, the part about scripture being the answer for pretty much everything... it happened...
I took the last sip of my Honest Tea.
This may seem trivial to you, but for me, it's the best part of my organic caffeinated beverage experience. You see, when you finish off a bottle of Honest Tea, you can see the quote imprinted on the inside of the label. And those quotes have never failed to be applicable to my day. Every bottle holds some lesson necessary to my life at that time. No matter what I'm going through, Honest Tea is there to offer me a little anti-oxidant boost and an inspiring word. And here's what it told me today...
"Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine."
I sat there, trying to decipher the metaphor of this profound message, knowing that somewhere in those words, knowledge was being offered; all I had to do was find the deeper meaning...
Yeah, so you can see where this post is going.
Here I was trying to find wisdom from a label on a plastic bottle without giving a second thought to the God-breathed words sitting open on my lap. It's a good thing God likes losers... cause man, while I know it's hard to believe with my killer fashion sense and idea of a good time, sometimes, I really am a loser. It kind of made me think about the golden-calf mishap that came to be while Moses went up on the mountain to grab the Ten Commandments quick. You know, when they got impatient and decided they needed a little moral boost and direction... so what better than a cow made of recycled jewelry? We all know those earrings were out of date anyway and if worse came to worse, they could sell it no problem on etsy. People love recycled art.
Okay, but seriously, they were looking for answers from a statue inspired by cattle while Moses was getting the answers directly from the Big Man himself! Why, that's almost as dumb as expecting an Honest Tea label to speak truth into your life while the Truth itself is sitting right in your lap... ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. Yeah. Crap.
So I take back what I said, maybe finding God in your happy place isn't always that easy... actually in my case, and the dummies at the bottom of the mountain, He was staring us right in the face. Maybe the hard part is just realizing He was never the one that was lost to begin with... we were.
Welp, I told you. Did anyone get me that ticket to Canaan yet?... cause I heard they're down an Israelite.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
"Good morning... this is the real world... Shelby speaking... how can I help you?"
So I guess it's only fair to give credit where credit is due and let you know that... I did get a job... in fact, someone quit the very morning I moved back to the boro... and I applied an hour after I pulled in back home... and was hired full time and started work on Tuesday morning... and have already put in over 30 hours in 4 days... yeah, yeah, yeah, it's true. God provides. SHOCKER. Now, I know that sounds snotty, but really, let's be honest here people... we all act like it's some huge surprise that God provides for us when we need it most... but uhhh... He kind of promises He will. We all cry and mope and whine and doubt when things seem hopeless... or when we smash our car into a unsuspecting deer... and then we turn around and read about the Israelites and say "oh you of little faith." Come on. Let's get real. Send me to Canaan and call me Enosh or Methuselah or some other unfortunate name I can't pronounce or have any intrest in learning how to... because the reality is... I'd make a great Israelite. If there was ever going to be someone to hoard levain or start melting down all their spair jewlery to make some majestic heifer to worship... it should probably be me. I'm not proud of it. I'm just saying... I doubt with the best of them... and expect to be blessed for it. Seriously. I'd make a great Israelite.
But what I was really trying to get at in all of this was how eager everyone has been to welcome me to the "real world." It usually sounds something like this...
How's the job going?
"Ehhh. The people are nice but I hate the work itself... I hate being inside an office all the time... I hate being tired all the time... I hate being hit on by gross gas workers ALL THE TIME... and I hate never having any time to do the things I like or be with the people I care about." (I wasn't really kidding about the Israelite thing...)
THEN with a little chuckle and eyes that seem all too happy to sympathize, they say...
Welcome to the real world, kid.
Then, to be totally honest, I kind of want to shake them until they find a little inspiration or lose their lunch. I say that with all the love I can... but I can't say that it's much. You know, I guess I can't say a lot for the "real world," because maybe in the "real world" that really is all there is to it... but I'm not really living to be part of the "real world." I'm living to be part of something much better... much bigger. I'm living to be part of a kingdom. And there, there's a lot more to life than working 9-5 monday through friday, except major holidays and prideful celebrations of those who made the "real world" more tolerable. I'm living to be passionate and inspired and creative and useful and purposeful and make a difference... I'm living to bring something way better than the "real world" 2.0.
Well, for all you 9 to 5'ers... know I feel your pain... but don't lose heart... we've got a lot more going for us than 6:00 Friday evening and 40 hours of underpaid labor. Yeah, so we live in the "real world," but it's not what we live for. The day we start welcoming people into this sad existence most call reality, is the day we give up hope for what God always intended for the world to be... it's the day we accept the lie that this is what life was supposed to look like... the day we call this the "real world" is the day we forget that God is in the process of restoring the world to Him... it's the day we forget God is in the process of restoring our hearts to Him... it's the day we buy a ticket to the wilderness and spend 40 years in exile doubting that God is leading us to the promise land.
So here's to you. To the grocery store clerks, the waitresses, the stay at home moms, the teachers, the janitors, the secretaries, the gas attendants, the ice-cream scoopers, the dog-walkers, the nannies, the people who pick up the popcorn and chewed gum off of movie theater floors... on Tuesday morning when you wake up and remember where you're going for the next seemingly endless 8 hours... let me welcome you... we're on a journey together... in our old junky cars we're still crossing our fingers will pass inpspection this year, or, for deer-whisperers like myself, our bicycles whose breaks let everyone in a 3 mile radius know we're about to stop. It's a divine pilgrimage of sorts... maybe the less than flattering uniforms distract people from seeing the holiness we're chasing... but keep running... keep running faithfully toward the hope God promises for our futures... I can't say for sure... because this is new to me too... but I have a feeling the milk and honey will taste so much sweeter than our 4:00 coffee break.
But what I was really trying to get at in all of this was how eager everyone has been to welcome me to the "real world." It usually sounds something like this...
How's the job going?
"Ehhh. The people are nice but I hate the work itself... I hate being inside an office all the time... I hate being tired all the time... I hate being hit on by gross gas workers ALL THE TIME... and I hate never having any time to do the things I like or be with the people I care about." (I wasn't really kidding about the Israelite thing...)
THEN with a little chuckle and eyes that seem all too happy to sympathize, they say...
Welcome to the real world, kid.
Then, to be totally honest, I kind of want to shake them until they find a little inspiration or lose their lunch. I say that with all the love I can... but I can't say that it's much. You know, I guess I can't say a lot for the "real world," because maybe in the "real world" that really is all there is to it... but I'm not really living to be part of the "real world." I'm living to be part of something much better... much bigger. I'm living to be part of a kingdom. And there, there's a lot more to life than working 9-5 monday through friday, except major holidays and prideful celebrations of those who made the "real world" more tolerable. I'm living to be passionate and inspired and creative and useful and purposeful and make a difference... I'm living to bring something way better than the "real world" 2.0.
Well, for all you 9 to 5'ers... know I feel your pain... but don't lose heart... we've got a lot more going for us than 6:00 Friday evening and 40 hours of underpaid labor. Yeah, so we live in the "real world," but it's not what we live for. The day we start welcoming people into this sad existence most call reality, is the day we give up hope for what God always intended for the world to be... it's the day we accept the lie that this is what life was supposed to look like... the day we call this the "real world" is the day we forget that God is in the process of restoring the world to Him... it's the day we forget God is in the process of restoring our hearts to Him... it's the day we buy a ticket to the wilderness and spend 40 years in exile doubting that God is leading us to the promise land.
So here's to you. To the grocery store clerks, the waitresses, the stay at home moms, the teachers, the janitors, the secretaries, the gas attendants, the ice-cream scoopers, the dog-walkers, the nannies, the people who pick up the popcorn and chewed gum off of movie theater floors... on Tuesday morning when you wake up and remember where you're going for the next seemingly endless 8 hours... let me welcome you... we're on a journey together... in our old junky cars we're still crossing our fingers will pass inpspection this year, or, for deer-whisperers like myself, our bicycles whose breaks let everyone in a 3 mile radius know we're about to stop. It's a divine pilgrimage of sorts... maybe the less than flattering uniforms distract people from seeing the holiness we're chasing... but keep running... keep running faithfully toward the hope God promises for our futures... I can't say for sure... because this is new to me too... but I have a feeling the milk and honey will taste so much sweeter than our 4:00 coffee break.
Friday, May 20, 2011
A Deer Named Jacob
Alright kids... so there's something you should know about me. Sometimes I may make everything harder than it needs to be. Why? Because, well, it's what I do well... and why not stick with what I'm good at? I have the God-given gift of being difficult. (And for those of you who know me... keep yo' thoughts to yo'self) It's one of my many strengths... along with being stubborn, over-dramatic, and outspoken... all topped with a nice dose of sarcasm to accentuate my best features.
So I've come to a fork in the road this past week and I have been putting off making a decision (I forgot to mention my incredible ability to procrastinate in the list above)... "waiting to let God put the pieces together." I've been praying that doors would be clearly opened or closed, but I may have been pounding down doors that were already shut... and locked... and bolted...
A mentor of mine had suggested to me that I find a biblical character to study... really look into their life and see what I can learn from their struggles and how God directed them. He thought Jacob could be a good fit. Jacob... the guy who made things he wanted to happen, happen, even if it meant draping himself in goat skin... the guy who was tricked into marrying an ugly chick and would settle for nothing less than her good looking sister even if it meant a few more years of slave labor... you know, the guy who wrestled with an angel and insisted on being blessed for it... the guy who wouldn't take no for an answer... who made everything harder than it needed to be...yeah... that guy. Sound familiar. Yeah well, I didn't think so either...
Well, here's the thing, I'm coming home from a friends last night, and another door closed... slammed actually... and let me tell you... it wasn't pretty. I hit a deer... in a big kind of way. Bumper? gone... Radiator? fully exposed... Headlight? MIA.... Car Hood... well, it's a little more shapely now... and the passenger door? inactive. The bottom line, the car is a goner. I'm trading in my wheels for an old pair of keds. Sweet.
So I packed up my belongings and moved back to the boro for the summer this morning... Why? Because I made things harder than they needed to be. Because I put off making a decision so I could have what I wanted... I guess I was wrestling on behalf of my own plans and expected God to bless me for it too. It was time to move forward... and I'd been standing at that fork for too long. The lesson? Well I guess if you're busy waiting at a fork in the road, watch out for unexpected deer... I don't know what yours will be called... but it seemed only fitting to name the poor soul Jacob.
Well... thanks a lot Jake... I guess we both got what we had coming...
So I've come to a fork in the road this past week and I have been putting off making a decision (I forgot to mention my incredible ability to procrastinate in the list above)... "waiting to let God put the pieces together." I've been praying that doors would be clearly opened or closed, but I may have been pounding down doors that were already shut... and locked... and bolted...
A mentor of mine had suggested to me that I find a biblical character to study... really look into their life and see what I can learn from their struggles and how God directed them. He thought Jacob could be a good fit. Jacob... the guy who made things he wanted to happen, happen, even if it meant draping himself in goat skin... the guy who was tricked into marrying an ugly chick and would settle for nothing less than her good looking sister even if it meant a few more years of slave labor... you know, the guy who wrestled with an angel and insisted on being blessed for it... the guy who wouldn't take no for an answer... who made everything harder than it needed to be...yeah... that guy. Sound familiar. Yeah well, I didn't think so either...
Well, here's the thing, I'm coming home from a friends last night, and another door closed... slammed actually... and let me tell you... it wasn't pretty. I hit a deer... in a big kind of way. Bumper? gone... Radiator? fully exposed... Headlight? MIA.... Car Hood... well, it's a little more shapely now... and the passenger door? inactive. The bottom line, the car is a goner. I'm trading in my wheels for an old pair of keds. Sweet.
So I packed up my belongings and moved back to the boro for the summer this morning... Why? Because I made things harder than they needed to be. Because I put off making a decision so I could have what I wanted... I guess I was wrestling on behalf of my own plans and expected God to bless me for it too. It was time to move forward... and I'd been standing at that fork for too long. The lesson? Well I guess if you're busy waiting at a fork in the road, watch out for unexpected deer... I don't know what yours will be called... but it seemed only fitting to name the poor soul Jacob.
Well... thanks a lot Jake... I guess we both got what we had coming...
Friday, April 22, 2011
A Glance Across the Room...
Psalm 10: 17-18
Oh Lord, you hear the desire of the meek; you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more.
I was reading through the Psalms today and a common theme seemed to be coming to the surface... and that was just how much God cares for the lowliest... the most unlovable... the ones with the least to offer... the ones society forgot. And I began to wonder, how is it our hearts don't break for the oppressed every day? For if we truly are people who love the heart of God, our hearts would be pained by just the thought of each orphan, widow, prostitute, war victim, slave, refugee... each and every impoverished family and homeless soul. If we really adored the heart of God like we claim... we would be overwhelmed by the thoughts of each one of these people... because if we actually sought the heart, of God our pain for them would run so deep... it would move us into action... propel us into passion... throw us into inspiration like we never dreamed of before... because all of our pain, our deep rooted undeniable aches, would be born of an even deeper love.
How is it that we so quickly forget humanity?
How can we look into the eyes of another human being and not allow our souls to connect?
We are more than flesh and blood and organ and tissue. We are mind and spirit and soul and heart. Our passion, it kindles us to each other... in the simple exchange of a glance... and yet we are so blinded.
We cannot connect because we see not a person, but a body. We see the corpse but we never allow ourselves to see the light within... we never allow ourselves out of the lit room of our soul to see the blinding world around us... radiant with proclamations of light from each and every weary soul.
We are broken people... but it's the cracks that allow the sun to illuminate our beings... it's the cracks that allow us to see the light in the eyes of another... if we would only look...
If only we would see past the disconnect in our gaze and focus on the unity of the spirit. If only... if only we could chase the heart of God so fervently that in doing so... we'd run right into the light of the one beside us... we'd run right into the radiance pouring forth from every broken heart... every loosened tear... every torn hope... every fallen dream...
If only we could see...
We could never be the same
Because our eyes would take us to places untamed
Into the souls of the desperate, the unworthy, the unclean
Into the eyes of the ones crying out to be redeemed
Crying out, crying out hoping their last breaths are not in vain
That this rich man's God would welcome the insane
Because time is short and hope is waning
They have no dream and the light is fading
If only someone would see past their shame
Hold out a hand for the disfigured and maimed
Grasp the light before it is lost
See past the person and peer upon the soul it could cost
Oh Lord, you hear the desire of the meek; you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more.
I was reading through the Psalms today and a common theme seemed to be coming to the surface... and that was just how much God cares for the lowliest... the most unlovable... the ones with the least to offer... the ones society forgot. And I began to wonder, how is it our hearts don't break for the oppressed every day? For if we truly are people who love the heart of God, our hearts would be pained by just the thought of each orphan, widow, prostitute, war victim, slave, refugee... each and every impoverished family and homeless soul. If we really adored the heart of God like we claim... we would be overwhelmed by the thoughts of each one of these people... because if we actually sought the heart, of God our pain for them would run so deep... it would move us into action... propel us into passion... throw us into inspiration like we never dreamed of before... because all of our pain, our deep rooted undeniable aches, would be born of an even deeper love.
How is it that we so quickly forget humanity?
How can we look into the eyes of another human being and not allow our souls to connect?
We are more than flesh and blood and organ and tissue. We are mind and spirit and soul and heart. Our passion, it kindles us to each other... in the simple exchange of a glance... and yet we are so blinded.
We cannot connect because we see not a person, but a body. We see the corpse but we never allow ourselves to see the light within... we never allow ourselves out of the lit room of our soul to see the blinding world around us... radiant with proclamations of light from each and every weary soul.
We are broken people... but it's the cracks that allow the sun to illuminate our beings... it's the cracks that allow us to see the light in the eyes of another... if we would only look...
If only we would see past the disconnect in our gaze and focus on the unity of the spirit. If only... if only we could chase the heart of God so fervently that in doing so... we'd run right into the light of the one beside us... we'd run right into the radiance pouring forth from every broken heart... every loosened tear... every torn hope... every fallen dream...
If only we could see...
We could never be the same
Because our eyes would take us to places untamed
Into the souls of the desperate, the unworthy, the unclean
Into the eyes of the ones crying out to be redeemed
Crying out, crying out hoping their last breaths are not in vain
That this rich man's God would welcome the insane
Because time is short and hope is waning
They have no dream and the light is fading
If only someone would see past their shame
Hold out a hand for the disfigured and maimed
Grasp the light before it is lost
See past the person and peer upon the soul it could cost
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Prophet Thoreau
I just read through this play, The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail... really excellent... one of those books that you finish and are convinced you're going to change the world while you walk back to put it on the shelf beside all your ambition and good intentions.... and it got me thinking about the importance of our voices and the great power we have through speech and the written word... which in turn tossed me into the black abyss of my mind where I store all memories of editing poorly written articles... double negatives... and unnecessary word abbreviations used in everyday conversation. It's not a place I like to visit often. It reminds me that we have a problem; minds like Thoreau are becoming a rare commodity. My generation is having a hard time communicating... expressing themselves fully... and I can't help but wonder if it's not so much about our poor grammar and pathetic expanse of vocablary as it is our inability to find a truth to speak for. Maybe it's not so much that we don't have worthwhile things to say... maybe the problem is that we're missing the passion that gives our voices sound.
Truly friends, what is a word if it speaks not truth? Why, it's not a word at all. Isn't the purpose of a word to convey the reality of the mind... detail the movement of the soul? Is it not that movement that causes us to speak? If only it were so. Only in a world of precocious ignorant fools could such a thing be true... a world where human kind lived according to the innocence of clarity... true clarity that is... the things unspoiled by the skewed perceptions of societal expectations...
But what is left in this world that society has not marred?
For we have polluted even the skies with our distaste for patience...
We have stolen away the individuality of the blades of grass decorating our lawns with our need for unifomity...
We have damned the freedom of the streams with dams.
How much more have we done to man? Have we not confined integrity to a ballot? We shout for justice and silently cast a vote while we judge the character of the ones who are calling out idle promises for change...
calling out... speaking words... but do we believe them to be true?
No.
Because even we, "simple-minded citizens," know the honor that has been ripped away from the innocent words we borrow... the words we steal to formulate mindless babble and convenient lies. Oh how we manipulate the piety of syllables and sounds to compose songs of deceit.
And yet, we entitle them truth.
I pray for our souls dear friends... for if our words speak the truth of our minds and the reality of our hearts... surely we have done to ourselves what we have done to the streams.
Dams kill even the purest of intentions to reach the oceans, just as untrue words blockade even the most honorable acts towards reconciliation. We must find harmony. We must reach for peace through our disunity.
Just as we must allow wind to flow through the leaves to sing the melodies of the branches... we must also allow truth to flow between action and speech to bridge a chord... to allow harmony to flow from the connection between our hearts and our lips. The sweet harmony of reuniting the spoken and written word with the honesty it once prized.
I live in a generation of mummbling dreamers... searching for purpose... an identity of meaning... misguided by the poetic lies of society...
We babble... in search of the truth.
We whisper... in search of confidence.
We grumble... in hopes of meaningful criticism.
We whimper... in hopes that someone will hear our pain.
Because we ache to speak...
but we don't know how...
because we don't know what the harmony of truth sounds like.
Because we, like the sky and the grass and the streams, have only known the confines of societal expectation.
We live under the veil of "societal truth"...
a truth that is not truth at all.
So we do not know how to speak...
I live in a wordless generation... because the words we've been taught are not words at all. I pray that one day we will recite poetry... that we will compose songs of truth... that we will write paragraphs born of integrity... that we will speak words inspired by the honor that language was created to communicate...
If only someone would teach us to speak.
Is there not one...
bold of heart and courageous of mind willing to step into our cell...
willing to break these chains of silence?
For they are heavy and I am weary
I'm running out of breath
But if I could utter just one word
Upon impending death...
May it be defiant truth that escapes from my lips born of my soul
Inspired by a precocious, ignorant fool who taught me to speak words not societally sold.
Truly friends, what is a word if it speaks not truth? Why, it's not a word at all. Isn't the purpose of a word to convey the reality of the mind... detail the movement of the soul? Is it not that movement that causes us to speak? If only it were so. Only in a world of precocious ignorant fools could such a thing be true... a world where human kind lived according to the innocence of clarity... true clarity that is... the things unspoiled by the skewed perceptions of societal expectations...
But what is left in this world that society has not marred?
For we have polluted even the skies with our distaste for patience...
We have stolen away the individuality of the blades of grass decorating our lawns with our need for unifomity...
We have damned the freedom of the streams with dams.
How much more have we done to man? Have we not confined integrity to a ballot? We shout for justice and silently cast a vote while we judge the character of the ones who are calling out idle promises for change...
calling out... speaking words... but do we believe them to be true?
No.
Because even we, "simple-minded citizens," know the honor that has been ripped away from the innocent words we borrow... the words we steal to formulate mindless babble and convenient lies. Oh how we manipulate the piety of syllables and sounds to compose songs of deceit.
And yet, we entitle them truth.
I pray for our souls dear friends... for if our words speak the truth of our minds and the reality of our hearts... surely we have done to ourselves what we have done to the streams.
Dams kill even the purest of intentions to reach the oceans, just as untrue words blockade even the most honorable acts towards reconciliation. We must find harmony. We must reach for peace through our disunity.
Just as we must allow wind to flow through the leaves to sing the melodies of the branches... we must also allow truth to flow between action and speech to bridge a chord... to allow harmony to flow from the connection between our hearts and our lips. The sweet harmony of reuniting the spoken and written word with the honesty it once prized.
I live in a generation of mummbling dreamers... searching for purpose... an identity of meaning... misguided by the poetic lies of society...
We babble... in search of the truth.
We whisper... in search of confidence.
We grumble... in hopes of meaningful criticism.
We whimper... in hopes that someone will hear our pain.
Because we ache to speak...
but we don't know how...
because we don't know what the harmony of truth sounds like.
Because we, like the sky and the grass and the streams, have only known the confines of societal expectation.
We live under the veil of "societal truth"...
a truth that is not truth at all.
So we do not know how to speak...
I live in a wordless generation... because the words we've been taught are not words at all. I pray that one day we will recite poetry... that we will compose songs of truth... that we will write paragraphs born of integrity... that we will speak words inspired by the honor that language was created to communicate...
If only someone would teach us to speak.
Is there not one...
bold of heart and courageous of mind willing to step into our cell...
willing to break these chains of silence?
For they are heavy and I am weary
I'm running out of breath
But if I could utter just one word
Upon impending death...
May it be defiant truth that escapes from my lips born of my soul
Inspired by a precocious, ignorant fool who taught me to speak words not societally sold.
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