03/29/14

My legs are in quick sand
It feels as if I'm in an elevator but the building is moving up and down and I am still

Being healthy keeps me alive longer but what sort of life if it's painful and prolonged?

They say Jesus was tempted in every way as I am, yet He did not sin.

I wonder if Jesus understands certain unhealthy actions from a human so that that human can get out of a rut.

Jesus was tempted in EVERY way?

Yet He did not sin.

I'm no Jesus.

I've been trying to do it right, I've been living a lonely life, I've been sleeping here instead, I've been sleeping in my bed.

You can do everything the healthy way, You can live to be 100 but that always seems to have a touch of luck and certain amount of circumstance involved.

All men are created equal but after our first breath the gap only widens.

I wonder how you felt about Judas.

After sunset, he and the Twelve were sitting around the table. During the meal, he said, “I have something hard but important to say to you: One of you is going to hand me over to the conspirators.” They were stunned, and then began to ask, one after another, “It isn’t me, is it, Master?” Jesus answered, “The one who hands me over is someone I eat with daily, one who passes me food at the table. In one sense the Son of Man is entering into a way of treachery well-marked by the Scriptures—no surprises here. In another sense that man who turns him in, turns traitor to the Son of Man—better never to have been born than do this!” Then Judas, already turned traitor, said, “It isn’t me, is it, Rabbi?” Jesus said, “Don’t play games with me, Judas.”...When he came back the next time, he said, “Are you going to sleep on and make a night of it? My time is up, the Son of Man is about to be handed over to the hands of sinners. Get up! Let’s get going! My betrayer is here.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Judas (the one from the Twelve) showed up, and with him a gang from the high priests and religious leaders brandishing swords and clubs. The betrayer had worked out a sign with them: “The one I kiss, that’s the one—seize him.” He went straight to Jesus, greeted him, “How are you, Rabbi?” and kissed him. Jesus said, “Friend, why this charade?”
-Matthew 26

After he said these things, Jesus became visibly upset, and then he told them why. “One of you is going to betray me.” The disciples looked around at one another, wondering who on earth he was talking about. One of the disciples, the one Jesus loved dearly, was reclining against him, his head on his shoulder. Peter motioned to him to ask who Jesus might be talking about. So, being the closest, he said, “Master, who?” Jesus said, “The one to whom I give this crust of bread after I’ve dipped it.” Then he dipped the crust and gave it to Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot. As soon as the bread was in his hand, Satan entered him. “What you must do,” said Jesus, “do. Do it and get it over with.”...Jesus, having prayed this prayer, left with his disciples and crossed over the brook Kidron at a place where there was a garden. He and his disciples entered it. Judas, his betrayer, knew the place because Jesus and his disciples went there often. So Judas led the way to the garden, and the Roman soldiers and police sent by the high priests and Pharisees followed. They arrived there with lanterns and torches and swords. Jesus, knowing by now everything that was coming down on him, went out and met them. He said, “Who are you after?” They answered, “Jesus the Nazarene.” He said, “That’s me.” The soldiers recoiled, totally taken aback. Judas, his betrayer, stood out like a sore thumb. Jesus asked again, “Who are you after?” They answered, “Jesus the Nazarene.” “I told you,” said Jesus, “that’s me. I’m the one. So if it’s me you’re after, let these others go.” (This validated the words in his prayer, “I didn’t lose one of those you gave.”)
-John 18

What you must do, do.
Do it and get it over with.

Did You command Judas to betray You?

In another sense that man who turns him in, turns traitor to the Son of Man—better never to have been born than do this!

Why did You knit Judas together in his mother's womb then?

Friend, why this charade?

and yet You call Judas friend?

What Judas must do, he did it and got it over with and it would have been better had Judas never been born yet after all of this You still call him friend?

I wonder if Jesus understands certain unhealthy actions from a human so that that human can get out of a rut.

Do you believe you're missing out
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
But with nobody in your bed
The night's hard to get through


And I will die all alone
And when I arrive I won't know anyone
Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
because this problem's going to last more than the weekend.
Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die,
I'm a little bit scared of what comes after
Do I get the gold chariot?
Do I float through the ceiling?
Do I divide and pull apart?
because my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark
And the ship went down in sight of land
And at the gates, does Thomas ask to see my hands?

What do You want me to do Jesus? I know You don't want me to act unhealthy. I know You don't want me to sin to get out of a rut but what would You have me do? I only get one life and there are things I'd like to experience, things I'd like to find You in. But I can't put more sand in the hourglass and I can't back up to change what I've sown. Why don't You tell me what You want me to do? You and I both know I don't want to but are You simply telling me: "What you must do, do it and get it over with?"

These battles with my mind are unbearable at night.

I would give everything never to think about it again, I can only hold on to the things I want to lose.
-Why I'm not where you are 5/21/63, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

From Indian Lakes - I Don't Know You

03/23/14

I have to tell you, and I don't care if the whole world knows it. From now on, I want to live as you live. Don't send me away because I'm a woman with little strength or gentle manners. I'm not seeking to be understood anymore. I want to understand. I'm not asking to be loved. I want to love. Where there is sadness, please, please, help me find joy.
-Brother Sun, Sister Moon

I'm not seeking to be understood anymore.
I want to understand.
I'm not asking to be loved.
I want to love.

You get one life, and I spend mine chasing highways made of ghosts now I don't know the way home from where I stand.
-Spirit First

How did I get here? Where am I? What exactly am I doing here? I've been chasing a ghost a phantom. It wasn't always like this. I use to pursue with purpose. The phantom was at one point tangible.

Every new road has so much promise, so much to discover at that time it is nearly impossible, if possible at all to consider that this road may one day in all actuality be a highway made of ghosts.

The insane continue on, what else can they do? What choice to they have? Now I don't know the way home from where I stand. What choice do I have? Am I insane?

What exactly am I doing here?

Conversations with ghosts are one sided. Sometimes they seem too real. Until the silence of reality rings so loudly the questions of insanity begin to creep back.

I've been searching and chasing ghosts for far too long now with hopes that if I could collect enough fragments of vapor something concrete might be formed. Or at the very least I will come to the conclusion that these ghosts I've been hunting are exactly that, ghosts.

But I continue on like some solider carrying the flag of a country long since destroyed but still gripping to the iron flagpole like hope.

I hate the reality of the fiction. The way my mind and heart battle with each other in the night. One knows it's a losing fight but still it must plant apple seeds on the eve of Armageddon.

Still I chase the phantom like an artist mad with drive to finish the piece even if it means cutting off an ear.

I've been looking everywhere for what I seemed to have lost. I know I must have lost it, not because I remember having possessed it but now experiencing the void in which it has created I know now it is lost.

So I grow the hair and it is beautiful and I find a fragment of the ghost in the ponytail holder.
I grow the beard and there as I slowly lose sight of my youthful jawline and cheek bone shape I find another piece of the ghost.
In the guitar as I strum it at a days end I seem to be coercing yet another portion of the ghost from the strings.
As I zipped up the sleeping bag in the middle of capital of Wyoming to sleep for the night I found in the bag with me the ghost. As I reached the ocean on Christmas day I seemed to have spotted the damned ghost swimming in the December Pacific.
And this past weekend as I crept up the steps of an old stoop towards cheerful conversation of strangers' voices as the sun was easing towards the West I came face to face with another part of the ghost.

By now I should have enough piece of the thing to draw one of the two conclusions.

It's as if they are casting votes in to the ballet box and now as the polls seem to be closing I am about to count the vote to see if the head or the heart is elected as the ruler of my being.

But I'm afraid to unlatch the box. I'm afraid to tally up the votes. I'm afraid that if I stop going down this highway made of ghosts I won't know the way home from where I stand. That doesn't seem like a reason to keep going but it seems to be making a convincing argument to the jury.

We jump into other's webs aware of the risk but yet it isn't until we are tangled that our eyes are open to the gravity of that tiny jump.

I knock at the door as the voices grow louder and louder. A man opens the door it must be Robert. He steps out with me and welcomes me. Then with a hand shake he asks if I'm ready to meet a room full of strangers. A fear that every "introvert" must push past. I step through the threshold as I push past the universal introvert fear and begin collecting handshakes and first names. After everyone has made sure I've gotten them all we sit down and the Seder meal begins...

The next morning I drive from Alan's downtown apartment back to Norwood where I pour some coffee and grab a seat with a wedge of omelet. The discussion with these strangers begins and it is ridiculously engaging my head and my heart were for the time being working as one as they played off of each other's strengths and seemed to help along the other's weaknesses.

We ate a sunny lunch with spread out blankets on stumps and soil. Afterwards the gardening portion began.

By the afternoon the strangers, the loud voices from last night, have transformed into individual artistic representations of the image of God from which they were crafted.

That evening as we settled into seats at Moriah Pie Joshua was giving me recommendations off the menu while Kevin was confirming. After the pizza came out and the glasses filled with beer something struck me. It happened in the middle of a roar of laughter at the table. I can't recall why or hardly any of the conversation but something was happening inside of me. Norwood Ohio this spot on some forgotten map, this tiny business that intentionally doesn't advertise, this room filled with neighbors and neighbors that know each other on a first name basis, something was happening here.

The Kingdom of God.
Community.
Finitude.
Dependence.
Being.
Ontology.
Existing.

I saw the moment approaching and in that instant. In that time I reached out and I grabbed it. This wasn't a ghost, this was it. I had it between my fingers. Here it is, it is now, it is here, it is real. What "it" was I couldn't say but I knew and I know that that was it.

I leaned back in my chair and I held it. And holding it there understanding it I knew that I couldn't hold it forever. I knew I couldn't capture it. For to capture it would be to destroy it's very nature. Like a bird or cutting down a tree to count it's age.

As I sit here recalling that moment, this weekend, I realize I feel as if I am back on the ghost hunt again, as if that was merely a rest stop of the endless highway.

I find more questions in each answer.

I want to understand.
I want to love.

Dead Can Dance - The Host of Seraphim

03/19/14

Economy is not one of the necessary principles of the universe; it is one of the jokes which God indulges in precisely because He can afford it. If a man takes it seriously, however, he is doomed forever to a middle-income appreciation of the world. Indeed, only the very poor and the very rich are safe from its idolatry. The poor, because while they must take it seriously, they cannot possibly believe in it as a good; and the rich, because, though they may see it as a good, they cannot possibly take it seriously. For the one it is a bad joke, for the other, a good one; but for both it is only part of the divine ludicrousness of creation-of the sensus lusus which lies at the heart of matter. And that is why all men should hasten to become very poor or very rich-or both at once, like St. Paul, who had nothing and yet possessed all things. The world was made in sport, for sports; economy is worth only a smile. There are more serious things to laugh at.
-Supper of the Lamb: A Culinary Reflection Chapter 4 The Generous Ox, Robert F. Capon

No worker can serve two bosses: He’ll either hate the first and love the second Or adore the first and despise the second. You can’t serve both God and Mammon.
-Luke 16

Film Festival - I.A.T. Productions (9)

03/16/14

Today Bea turns 22.

Last year We Celebrated Bea's 21st birthday in Cincinnati after her first weekend at the urban gardening internship. Ending the night holding hands while I slept on the floor and her in the bed of a hotel room.

Two years ago we celebrated her 20th birthday at Father's a pizza with a candle in it then exchanging gifts on the Coop's porch swing.

This year I don't get to be with her on her birthday so I'll use this as a platform for what I would have done to celebrate her 22nd birthday.

First I would have given her the necklace from Pocahontas off of etsy because I know she loves that movie.

And she loves turquoise.

Next I would have told her to hop in my car but I wouldn't tell her where we were going. We'd have left early in the morning yesterday. We would have drove East for 11 1/2 hours stopping to check out anything we thought looked interesting or beautiful. The whole day in the car on an adventure.

Finally after an 11 hour day in the car we would arrive at the secret birthday surprise destination.

Southborough, Massachusetts

We could cuddle up in my sleeping bag in the back seat of my car and look at the stars through my sunroof. Or set up her tent outside.

This morning we would wake up and go to church together at Pilgrim Congregational Church after that we'd grab food and coffee at the Steeple Coffeehouse. Then the rest of the day we would spend around the town looking for the places Bea use to explore as a kid. The places she use to go with Buster. After that we'd watch the sun set and then I'd drive us back as she slept in the car until we made it back to Columbus.

I do miss Bea very much so. I miss her heart and our adventures.

I'm not one for labels but it is interesting how she is an ENFP and I am an INFJ

How it never matters whether we've hung out every day or haven't seen each other in months we still find a way to talk until the sun comes up.

How whenever she would talk I would feel that common thread C. S. Lewis wrote about.

How she understood my heart so deeply.

It's strange how love grows so slowly as people intertwine their lives and yet how love withers as lives drift apart.

Everything is so fleeting. Everything is so temporary. We are dust.

Teach me how to trust you Jesus
free her heart
heal Bea
heal me

03/15/14

Yes, life is full, there is life even underground. You wouldn't believe, how I want to live now, what a thirst for existence and consciousness has sprung up in me within these peeling walls. And what is suffering? I am not afraid of it, even if it were beyond reckoning. I am not afraid of it now. I was afraid of it before. I seem to have such strength now, that I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment: 'I exist.' In thousands of agonies - I exist. I'm tortured on the rack - but I exist! Although I sit alone - I exist! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there. And there's a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there.
-The Brothers Karamazov, Part Four, Book XI: Ivan, 4. A Hymn and a Secret Fyodor Dostoyevsky

What a rare and temporary privilege to have the opportunity to proclaim 'I exist' while on this planet.

Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

there is something very holy about this phrase I am reminded of this during Ash Wednesday. I am dust and to dust I shall return, but for this moment, no matter what this moment looks like, no matter any detail about this moment, I exist. I am alive. In but a breath I will be dust again but not in this moment.

In this moment I choose to praise God. In this moment I choose not to fear, not to worry, but rather to slowly breathe in this life, to touch, to listen, to taste, to see.

Life is everywhere and where there is life, there is hope. In this very moment as spring is pushing through the winter chill hope and life are present.

I can't wait to begin the gardening season. My fingers in the soil, in the dust.

Oscar Isaac - Hang Me, Oh Hang Me

03/12/14

Am I the only one I know
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat
Shadows will scream that I'm alone
I've got a migraine
and my pain will range from up down and sideways
thank God it's Friday
cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays
cause Sundays are my suicide days
I don't know why they always seem so dismal
Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle
Whether it's the weather or the letters by my bed
sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head
Let it be said what the headache represents
It's me defending in suspense
It's me suspended in a defenseless
test being tested by a ruthless examinant
that's represented best by my depressing thoughts
I do not have writer's block
my writer just hates the clock
it will not let me sleep, I'll get some sleep when I'm dead
and sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head
I am not as fine as I seem pardon
Me for yelling I'm telling you green gardens
are not what's growing in my psyche
it's a different me
a difficult to be, stop feasting lumber down trees
freeze frame
please let me paint a mental picture portrait
something you won't forget, it's all about my forehead
and how it is a port that holds back contents
that make Pandora's box's contents look non-violent
Behind my eyelids are islands of violence
my mind shipwrecked, this is the only land my mind could find
I did not know it was such a violent island
Full of tidal waves, suicidal crazed lions
They're trying to eat me, blood running down their chin
and I know that I can fight or I can let the lion win
I begin to assemble what weapons I can find
Cause sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind
And I will say that we should take a day to break away
from all the pain our brain has made
the game is not played alone
And I will say that we should take a moment and hold it
and keep it frozen and know that life has a hopeful undertone
Am I the only one I know
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat
Shadows will scream that I'm alone
But I know we've made it this far, kid

Who am I? I always ask myself this question. I ask myself, what if I was born in California? What if I was born in Kasempa? What if I was born in 1887? 2087? Am I the sum of my environment?
Who is Adam?

Yes.

I am who I am because of where I was born, because of what I have done, because of when I was born. But I am becoming exactly who God created when I was first imagined.

He pulled away from them about a stone’s throw, knelt down, and prayed, “Father, remove this cup from me. But please, not what I want. What do you want?” At once an angel from heaven was at his side, strengthening him. He prayed on all the harder. Sweat, wrung from him like drops of blood, poured off his face.
-Luke 22

Jesus asked that the Father would please take this cup of suffering away but Jesus then said He wanted God's will to be done.

And God's will was done. Why didn't God answer the prayer of Jesus about passing the cup? Because to pass the cup would be to destroy who Jesus is. To dodge this pain, this moment, this event would entirely change everything about who Jesus the Christ is. Jesus didn't want to do something in God's will but Jesus knew above everything that God's will is what must be done in order to fulfill who Jesus is.

It is exactly the same with us. God I pray to you constantly to take pain from me. Please don't make me go through this, please don't make me do that, please I don't want to. I don't want to. But if I were to run from what I must do I would no longer be Adam. I wouldn't be who I was made to be I would cease to exist. Jesus would cease to exist if He passed on that cup. So Jesus said not My will but Yours because Jesus knows that the Father's will is the only will. Anything other than the will of the Father isn't reality. It's sin, it's fake, it is a lie.

Jonah hopped on a boat running from who he was created to be and God loved who He had created enough to see Jonah through into the fulfillment of His finished masterpiece that is 'Jonah'

Because of the extravagance of those revelations, and so I wouldn’t get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn’t think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,
My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
-2 Corinthians 12

Paul begged God to remove his handicap, his thorn in his side. But to change that about Paul would be to change God's artistic plan known as 'Paul'. But Paul was wise enough to eventually catch on to the way of God's will and instead saw this thorn no longer as a handicap but as a gift. Nothing about the situation changed except Paul's perspective.

I've been struggling lately at night with my thoughts, with loneliness, with other things, I hate the night, it is a brutal time and it feels at moments like I won't make it till dawn.

Let it be said what the headache represents
It's me defending in suspense
It's me suspended in a defenseless
test being tested by a ruthless examinant
that's represented best by my depressing thoughts
it will not let me sleep, I'll get some sleep when I'm dead
and sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head

Freedom is a painfully beautiful thing. Sometimes slavery seems better than freedom. Sometimes sleep seems better than faith. Sometimes death seems better than migraines in my head.

But now I see through Jesus, through Paul, through Jonah, that these seasons, these tests being tested by a ruthless examinant are not a handicap. They should not be ran from on a boat heading the opposite direction. I should not wish to pass on this cup of pain. Instead God says, My grace is sufficient. God says don't you dare run from this moment, don't you dare miss out on this time. Because this is shaping, this is molding, this is creating exactly my vision and will for who my son 'Adam' is. So I begin to assemble what weapons I can find cause sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind.

This is part of the creative process.
This is part of the painting, the sculpting.
This is part of the beauty.
Adam if you run from this, if you deny this, you cease to exist. I become a lie. I become fake. I become asleep. I become dead.

Seasons go and seasons come steady as the beating drum.

It's simple to see such wisdom in the light of dawn as the sun rises above the horizon but while it is down in Sheol it feels as though I will not make it through. Help me see pain as a gift as Paul learned to see. Help me to enjoy the yin along side the yang.

I want to become 'Adam' I do not want anything less.

twenty one pilots - Migraine

03/10/14

Catch for Us the Foxes

Why burn poor and lonely under a bowl or under a lampshade
Or on the shelf beside the bed
Where at night you lay turning like a door on its hinges?...
First on your left side, then on your right side... then your left side again.
Why burn poor and lonely?
Tell all the stones we're gonna make a building...
We'll be cut into shape and set into place
Or if you'd rather be a window, I'll gladly be the frame,
Reflecting any kind words, we'll let in all their blame...
And ruin our reputation all the same.
So never mind our plan making, we'll start living...
Anyway, aren't you unbearably sad?
Then why burn so poor and lonely?

We'll be like torches!
We'll be like torches!
We'll be like torches... OH!!
We'll be torches together... TORCHES TOGETHER!!
We'll be like torches!
We'll be like torches... with whatever respect our tattered dignity demands,
Torches together... hand in hand.

Why pluck one string... what good is just one note?
Oh, one string sounds fine, I guess... but we were once 'one notes',
We were lonely wheat quietly ground into grain...
What light and momentary pain!
So why the safe distance, this curious look?
Why tear out single pages when you can throw away the book?
Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?

Strum the guitar!
Strum the guitar!
Strum the guitar... with no beginning, with no end.
Take down the guitar and strum the guitar!
Strum the guitar if you're afraid.
And I'm afraid and everyone's afraid and everyone knows it,
But we don't have to be afraid anymore.

You played the flute, but no one was dancing,
You sang a sad song... but none of us cried.
You played the flute, but no one was dancing,
And you sang a sad song, and none of us cried.
You played the flute, but no one was dancing,
You sang a sad song... but none of us cried.
You played the flute, but no one was dancing,
And you sang a sad song... you sang such a sad song.

mewithoutYou - Torches Together


January, 1979 saw a terrible crash (and couldn't help but laugh.)
My ear pressed against the pass like a glass on a wall of a house in a photograph.
My forehead no longer sweet with the holy kisses worthy of your fiery lips.
I was floating in a peaceful sea 'rescued' by a sinking ship.
If I could become the servant of all - no lower place to fall.
you watched me like a 10 car highway wreck with detached, vulgar curiosity. this looking
down at the tops of the hats of us passers-by from your 7th story balcony... from such a height you missed the creatures too small for sight carry on covert
conversation and the misguided insects crowned me their grasshopper king with a dance of celebration! after years with a crown on my head I've grown
overfed, unconcerned, and comfortably numb kept busy indulging in pleasures of the wealthy (someone make me afraid of what I've become!) At the first sign
of possible trouble I turned my heels and ran (Oh, I'll never learn) my life is a cup of sugar I borrowed before time began and forgot to return, it was a
matter of time - I always said I could see now I'm going blind, it was a matter of miserable time -- but I heard somewhere there was a cure for useless eyes?

mewithoutYou - January 1979


I was looking at the leaves, climbing to the tops of the trees...
But you were nowhere to be found;
Just beneath all the green you were buried like a little seed...
Among the roots and underground.
I was licking at the leaves, but I was in short sleeves and you,
You were like some sickness that I caught;
And my sweetheart moved away, swept off like garbage in the alleyway...
And I need more grace than I thought.

(Oh, please, brother, I am far... brother, I am far away... brother, I am far away from everything.
Oh, brother, I am far... brother, I am far away... brother! I am far away from everything good!)

She's like a hot cloth on a fevered head,
And like a needle she leads me (while I follow like thread)
Tie me up! Untie me! All this wishing I was dead is getting old...
IT'S GETTING OLD!!
... it goes on, but it's old.

I was swimming through the waves for what must have been days...
But could find no relief;
When I started sinking down I thought for certain I would drown...
Until I saw you in the ocean,
Underneath all the bright colored fish tell of a treasure in a dull shell...
"Such subtlety, so easily missed!"
You, my hidden pearl of pure and perfect love,
And I'm the living example of 100% the opposite of this.

(If I ask the same questions... well, yes, sir, I ask the same questions...
Well, maybe I repeat myself from time to time.
But if I ask the same questions... and then I know I ask the same questions,
It's because everyone who answers me is a liar!!)

She's like the hot cloth on a fevered head,
And like a needle she leads me (while I follow like thread)
But you untied me... didn't You untie me, Lord?
And now I haven't even thought about killing myself in almost five months.

mewithoutYou - Tie Me Up! Untie Me


If you fail to see a problem, which I find hard to believe,
Or if you're hanging on from branches licking honey from the leaves;
You say, "The hopelessness of living... and the childishness of suicide!"
But there's a call to love my brother that can never be destroyed.

However much you talk... however well you talk,
You make a certain sense, but it's still only stupid talk.
However much I strut around... however loud I sing,
The shining One inside me won't say anything.

Oh, to want one thing!
Oh, to want one thing!
(Oh, the purity of heart)
Oh, to want one thing!
Oh, to want one thing!

And you'll remind me how I said you were a quiet bed in all my noise to rest...
Well, I was charming you at best.
Can you remember, dear, my saying how my coming here was a terrible fall,
As we crept like thieves along your bedroom hall?
I'd come down and touch your eyelids, but if you stay up too late
I'll throw you back into the cupboard with all the chipped and dirty plates,
Like the carnival game with the bottleneck and rubber ring...
Where even if you win, even then you don't win.

(All I want is to want one thing....)

mewithoutYou - Leaf


Call me outside, I'll come running down...
You call me outside, I'll come running down.
Call me outside, I'll come running down...
You call me outside, I'll come running down.

When I satisfied each need invented by my eyes,
I was a nest by a fox's hole or dirt underneath your boot soles.
When I satisfied each need invented by my eyes,
Till it was nothing like I'd imagined.

Like cocaine, their green eyes fixed on the television to pass the time,
Until their two miles of elegant blinds halfway raised for the watching as you walked by:
"Look, come to the window... she carries a candle at mid-day
While the sun's still so high!"
But you knew better than to pay mind to what people and the devil say.

Call me outside, I'll come running down into your vacant, intoxicating night.
If you call me outside to their haunted streets, their red electric lights!
Oh, I'm on the sad side of a nowhere town, but sister I'm all you've got,
So call me outside, I'll come running down... then, not another word.

mewithoutYou - Disaster Tourism


He made the world a grassy road before our bare, wandering feet...
(He made the world a grassy road before our bare, wandering feet)
Then crushed the stones into the softest sand between our toes...
(Then crushed the stones into the softest sand between our toes)
But we're wondering where to sleep,
Oh, but clever words on pages turn to fragments, circles, points and lines,
And they cover them like carpets with graceful, meaningless, ornamental designs.

Come quick, You Light that knows no evening... come, alone to the alone!
There are a thousand half-smiles well worth leaving for to take your madness home,
And You dance inside my chest where no one sees You,
But sometimes I see You.

(Come quick, You Light that knows no evening... come, alone to the alone.
There's a thousand half-loves well worth leaving for to take your madness home,
And You dance inside my chest, etcetera... etcetera... ETCETERA!!)

Oh, rejoice, the Cleansing of my lips... rejoice, Salvation of my soul!
I still have a thousand half-loves... oh, my God!
I want to shoot myself just thinking about it!
And you think I don't mean what I say?
WELL, I MEAN EVERY WORD I SAY!!

I threw a small stone down at the reflection of my image in the water...
(I threw the stones down at the reflection of my image in the water)
And it altogether disappeared.
I burst as it shattered through me like a bullet through a bottle...
And I'm expected to believe that any of this is real.

mewithoutYou - Seven Sisters


God is love and love is real, but the dead are dancing with the dead,
And whatever's charming disappears while all things lovely only hurt my head
As I gather stones from fields like pearls of water on my fingers' ends
(And I carefully wrap them up in boxes... safe from windows...)
From things that break!!

As the night-time shined like day it saw my sorry face and hair a mess
But it liked me best that way... besides, how else could I confess?
When I looked down like if to pray,
Well, I was looking down her dress... good God!
Please, catch for us the foxes in the vineyard... the little foxes.

So turn your ears, you musicians, to silence
Because they only come out when it's quiet,
Their tails brushing over your eyelids...
Oh, wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead!
Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed
In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red... ah, but I don't need this!
I don't need this!
For I have my loves... I don't need this.

mewithoutYou - The Soviet


And not one motion her gesture could I forget,
The prettiest bag lady I ever met...
Pushing her cart in the rain, then gathering plastic and glass
She watched the day pass,
Not hour by hour... but pain by pain.
I was a basket filled with holes, and she was the sand I tried to hold
That ran out behind me as I swung with some invisible hand.

I stopped believing, you start to move
(She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine)
I stopped my leaving and the better man bloomed
(And you can pour us out and we won't mind)

I was dead then alive,
She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine;
You can pour us out, we won't mind,
As scratch around the mouth of the glass, "My life is no longer mine."

And if you're still looking for a blanket, sweetie,
I'm sorry, I'm no sort of fabric;
But if you need a tailor... then take your torn shirt, stumble up my stairs,
And mumble your pitiful prayers and in your tangled, knotted sleep,
Our midnight needles go to work until all comfort and fear flows in one river
Down in the shop by the mirror where you see yourself whole... and it makes you shiver.

I stopped believing, you start to move
(She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine)
I stopped my leaving and the better man bloomed
(And you can pour us out and we won't mind)

I was dead then alive,
She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine;
You can pour us out, we won't mind,
As scratch around the mouth of the glass, "Our lives our not our own."

Even the wind lay still,
Our essence was fire and cold and movement, movement...
Oh, if they ask you for the sign of the father in you,
Tell them it's movement, movement, movement and... repose.

mewithoutYou - Paper Hanger


My exit unobserved,
And my homesickness absurd...
I said "water" expecting the Word would satisfy my thirst,
Talking all about the second and third
When I haven't understood the first.

Jonah, where's that boat going... your ship set with eager sails?
There's a swirling storm soon blowing, and no use, fishermen,
In rowing from the consecrated whale!

And just like the clouds, they bring a darkness and a hard rain's gonna fall,
I felt the crowd bring a loneliness and a hard rain, a hard rain's gonna fall.

And she'd always weight me down,
But, afraid I might need her, I dragged her around,
It's best to keep close sackcloth and ash in a whitewashed town;
She wore that phony smile on her face,
I guess like a bandage on a wounded place,
While I kept the keys to every old lock just in case.

Rehearsed indifference tossed aside,
Our narrow arms spread wide,
"What unseen pen etched eternal things on the hearts of human kind...
But never let them in our minds?"

Oh, the clouds they brought a darkness and a hard rain's gonna fall,
And all my laughter ends in emptiness and a hard rain's gonna fall.
My every medicine causes more illness and a hard rain's gonna fall,
And until I let you go I didn't know, you were never mine...
You were never mine at all.

But now I spend my days in ever-increasingly complicated ways,
Convincing myself of the rightness of each word I say.
My exit, unfair if unobserved!
My exit, unfair if unobserved!
My exit, unfair...
Ya sabur, subhannallahi, a'udhu billahi minash-shaitanir-rajim,
al-hamdu lilllah, bismillahir rahmanir rahim.
(Oh Most Patient, Glory be to Thee, I seek refuge in you from Satan the accursed. Praise be to God. In the name of God, Most Gracious, Most Compassionate, Most Merciful.)

mewithoutYou - My Exit, Unfair


I wrote a four word letter... with post-script in crooked lines,
"Though I'd lived I'd never been alive."
And you know who I am... you held my hem as I traveled blind,
Listening to the whispering in my ear, soft but getting stronger,
Telling me the only purpose of my being here is to stay a bit longer.
Stealing a bicycle chain as the handlebars crashed to the ground,
And the back wheel detached from the frame, it kept rolling, yeah,
But aimlessly drifting around.

Oh, doubters, let's go down... let's go down, won't you come on down?
Oh, doubters, let's go down... down to the river to pray.
"Oh, but I'm so small I can barely be seen... how can this great love be inside of me?"
Look at your eyes.... they're small in size, but they see enormous things.

Wearing black canvas slippers in our frog-on-a-lily-pad pose,
We sewed buttons and zippers to Chinese pink silk and olive night clothes.
If you could someday stop by somehow we'll show you the pictures and fix you some tea...
See, my dad's getting a bit older now, and just unimaginably lonely!

Oh, pretenders, let's go down... let's go down, won't you come on down?
Oh, pretenders, let's go down... down to the river to pray.
"Oh, but I'm so afraid" or "I'm set in my ways"
But He'll make the rabbits and rocks sing His praise.
"Oh, but I'm too tired, I won't last long."
No, He'll use the weak to overcome the strong!
Oh, Amanda, let's go down... let's go down, won't you come on down?
Mama, Nana, let's go down... down in the dirt by the river to pray.

(A wick to fit the wax... wood to fit the wire)

You strike the match... why not be utterly changed to fire?
To sacrifice the shadow and the mist of a brief life you never much liked?
So if you'd care to come along, we're gonna curb all our never-ending, clever complaining,
As who's ever heard of a singer criticized by his song?
Though we hunger, though all that we eat brings us little relief,
We don't know quite what else to do;
We have all our beliefs, but we don't want our beliefs...
God of Peace, we want You.

mewithoutYou - Four Word Letter (Pt. Two)


On a bus ride into town, I wondered out loud, "Why am I going to town?"
As I looked around at the billboards and the stores I thought, "Why do I look around?"
And I kissed the filthy ground... the first dry spot I found...
I didn't have to wonder why I was laying down.

Before long I was too cold... took a bus back to the station,
I found a letter left by a pay phone with no return contact
And it read like a horn blown by some sad angel,
"Bunny, it was me... it was me who let you down"
It was the shyest attempt I'd ever seen at conversation.

But if I didn't have You as my guide, I'd still wander lost in Sinai,
Counting the plates of cars from out-of-state,
How I could jump in their path as they hurry along!
And You surround me, You're pretty but You're all I can see
Like a thick fog...
If there was no way into God,
I would never have laid in this grave of a body for so long.

And St. Cyril's fair always came through the first week of September
But it's already the 19th... and there's no sign of it...
Yet I have a hard time remembering all the things I should remember
And a hard time forgetting all the things that I was supposed to forget.
And, Christ, when You're ready to come back,
Then I think I'm ready for You to come back;
But if You want to stay wherever exactly it is You are,
That's okay, too... it's, it's really none of my business.

And if I didn't have You as my guide, I'd still wander lost in Sinai
Or down by the tracks watching trains go by
To remind me: there are places that aren't here.
And I had a well but all the water left,
So I'll go ask Your forgiveness with every breath,
And if there was no way into God,
I would never have laid in this grave of a body... so long, dear.

mewithoutYou - Carousels


I'll ring Your doorbell
Until You let me in...
And I can no longer tell
Where "You" end and "I" begin.

Grape on the vine, grape on the vine,
We've been alone a long time.
Grape on the vine... why not be crushed to make wine?

Pay no attention to me
Dancing with my girl...
With every intention to be failures in this world.

Grape on the vine, grape on the vine,
We've been alone a long time.
Grape on the vine... why not be crushed to make wine?

Six of my closest friends
Will dig up the ground...
All my accomplishments
Gently lowered down.

Grape on the vine, grape on the vine,
We've been alone a long time.
Grape on the vine... all is the same to the souls of those so much resigned.
Grape on the vine, grape on the vine,
We've been alone a long time.
Grape on the vine, grape on the vine...

The Son of the widow
You raised from the dead...
Where did His soul go
When He died again?

mewithoutYou - Son of a Widow

03/08/14

As I got closer to the house I recognized the menorah-ish lights near the front door. I had awkwardly approached at the same time as another group. The people in front of me were warmly welcomed then the man standing at the door met my eyes and simply said, "hi what's your name?"
Adam
nice to meet you Adam
I slipped off my shoes just then behind me entered Jen and a sigh of relief hit me. Someone I know. We exchanged greetings she seemed pleased to see me. I shuffled past everyone and found a seat on that white couch Bea and Rachel had sat in last time. I kept thinking to myself, I need to be comfortable being uncomfortable. I was definitely uncomfortable. A woman named Pam (I think) sat and spoke with me for a bit but ditched me once some other people she knew came through the door. I continued to sit by myself. A group of men greeted each other in front of me. As my face was crotch height feeling completely ignored I knew how the soft red pillows resting behind me felt. I stood up to avoid this awkward position and I fought off the urges to be cynical I reminded myself again it is good to be uncomfortable. These are people who love Jesus and Jesus loves them. Finally a man named Justin acknowledged my existence we spoke for a bit then I met another man and his name was Justin also. He said he attends the vineyard and we started to connect at least with that bit in common. He invited me to the kitchen for coffee. When we returned to the living room to start worship he offered to sit next to me. I noticed the seat by Agnes was taken a sign of relief came over me. At least she can't call me to sit by her this time I thought. The only two open seats were in the front nearest to Bill so Justin and I took our seats. Some dude named Tommy was visiting from Chicago and lead worship.

I closed my eyes and tried to experience the Holy Spirit. People were reading scriptures periodically throughout and in between songs. The evening was going well and I was enjoying simply being still. Agnes began to speak about the Holy Spirit she mentioned God filling all of us, our hearts, our bones, our nervous system. She spoke about us being new creations and embracing that. I didn't realize but my eyes were locked on hers as she spoke. Then she spoke the word "surrender" and my heart really felt God speaking in that word. In that moment Agnes stopped talking and locked eyes on me and told everyone I needed prayer...

my heart stopped, my face flushed red, how embarrassing, is this really happening again? In seconds I am surrounded by strangers, their hands all over me. I feel Justin turn beside me placing one hand on my chest the other on my back and he begins to pray. Everyone is praying. I can't even hear them, all I am thinking is how ridiculous this is that Agnes called me out again. Finally the prayer ended and I was out of the wooods. I looked at the chair next to Agnes and it was still occupied, I knew the worst was over.
"Young man come kneel at my feet, I have a word to speak over you" Agnes said dead locked on my eyes... At this point I'm beyond embarrassed, I'm beyond uncomfortable, I'm beyond awkward and I think to myself
eh, what the hell, I guess I'll sit at the feet of this 85 year old stranger. She grabs my face at the jaw I feel my beard rest in her hands and she begins to speak of my worth and God's love towards me. Somewhere in the middle of her words I am reminded of the word "surrender" and in an instant I just let go...fuck it I think to myself, so I'm kneeling before some old lady in a house full of strangers, I might as well stop fearing how I look and see what sort of thing God has for me. I am less than inches from her nose and I stay locked on her eyes. It was powerful. I return to my seat and at this point I'm at the "surrender" point. So I speak up and I tell them when Agnes spoke the word surrender it really struck me.

Tommy turns to me and confesses he had gotten a word for me during worship and he tells me his vision of me being surrounded by boulders with no way out. He tells me he saw God's light lift me from that place and free me. Then he said he saw me helping others stuck in their boulders. He said he saw my hands turning red hot as I touched boulders imprisoning others and setting them free.

As he spoke this word over me I was reminded of my conversation Monday night. How I had stood listening and hugging how she told me she felt God's love through me. I told the room about this experience and everyone was amazed at how the Spirit at spoken to me.

Frankly I couldn't believe it and I was pissed that I got called out again. Why can't I just sit and worship the two times I've gone to this thing.

Then the man playing the djembe looked at me and told me to write all this down. What happened tonight. He said to write it down to know and confirm this happened that the Spirit had layed out a vision for my life of removing boulders in the lives of others.

so here I am, writing this weird instance out.

Afterwards we prayed for Tommy and a married couple for their trip to Israel.

Then as I was getting ready to leave Justin and Justin started talking to me and we had an incredible conversation. In the midst of it I realized I came here uncomfortable and awkward expecting to be a fly on the wall, but here I am connecting with these guys and receiving a word from the Holy Spirit.

That was a weird experience. I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but there I wrote it down...

WALK THE MOON - Iscariot

03/05/14

陰陽

Without hunger there is no satisfaction
Without work there is no rest
Without night there is no day

As I've been thinking more and more about pain, what it is, why it hurts, I've been thinking about all the things I don't like and why it is I don't like them.

Would I rather work or rest?
Would I rather feel lonely or comfort?

"Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another." ~The Magician's Nephew #CSLewis

— C. S. Lewis (@CSLewis) March 2, 2014

As Toni and I were talking Saturday she mentioned loneliness being a good thing.

But it doesn't feel good... is it possible that good things don't always feel good?

Does working out at the gym feel good?
Does dieting and eating vegetables taste good?

What if good is above our senses being pleased?

What if good sometimes looks horribly evil through the lens of my flesh?

What if sometimes in order to see the good we must look beyond ourselves?

God told us to rest on the Sabbath. Rest is good. Does that mean God wants us to only live and look forward to 1/7th of our lives? Maybe there is something in work that is good and beautiful. So is rest bad but necessary? Maybe it isn't always about that sort of logic.

I feel in this culture I live in we have an
if (blank) then (blank)
sort of mindset. If you like the day then you must not like the night. If you like summer you must not like winter. But the more and more I think about pain and I think about pleasure the more and more I realize I need the pain for the pleasure and I need the pleasure for the pain.

Again does that mean I only do the painful "so that" I get the pleasure? If that were how I am to live my life then I'd miss out on 6/7th of life!

Everything has a glimpse of goodness.
Everything will be redeemed.
God is ever where...EVERY WHERE!

Monday night as I stood listening to my friend weep and lament about the hardships of life. As she opened up to me and confessed her fears and her agony, her sins and her struggles, what could I do? I stood looking into her eyes and listened. I offered my heart and presence to her. And rapping my arms around her I felt her body shaking as she let go of the tears.

All of her sins, all of her struggles, all of her pain, it isn't enjoyable...but it is good.

How can God allow my child to die?
How can God allow the holocaust?
How can God allow child soldiers?

This stuff isn't enjoyable, this stuff can seem downright evil...but God is in the midst. God is offering His heart and presence. And it is good.

Hope exists every where and always.

loneliness is good. Not because it leads to joy later, It is good because it is part of life.
Addiction is good. Not because it leads to freedom once conquered. It is good because it is part of life.
Death is good. Not because then they are with their "maker". It is good because it is part of life.

Life isn't about getting there.
Life isn't about accomplishing.
Life isn't about reaching euphoria.
Life is about living.

Jesus wants us to have life and have it to the fullest. All of Life. Not just the good. Not just the bad. Jesus doesn't want us to evaluate seasons of life as good or bad He simply wants us to live life.

Yes life is painful
Yes life is wonderful
Jesus stands in the midst of everything EVERYTHING and offers us peace.
Peace when things go exactly as we plan.
...and peace when things go horribly, horribly wrong.

Jesus pulls beauty from the ash heap, it is WHO GOD IS. And it is good. Without the ash heap there is no beauty. Without beauty there is no ash heap.

Without choices there is no freedom.
Without freedom there is no love.
Without love there is no life.

It’s all crazy! it’s all false! it’s all a dream! it’s alright

yīn and yáng

The Psalters - Magnificat

03/01/14

So I wish I was a slave to an age-old trade
Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways

The further we "progress" in society and luxury the more and more I feel less like a man more like a username. I feel like I am decreasing as a human and increasing as an internet account. Who am I?

check my facebook
twitter
vine
instagram

But I look at the history of the human race, I look at the people who walked the land before me, and I see not usernames but hearts, sweat, skin, men.

I want to work with my hands. I want to craft what is mine not simply purchase it. I want to invest in my life, in everything. I find the hat Ellen knitted for me more valuable than one purchased. It has her time and her love sewn into it. She thought of me during the long process.

I think about how happy Ed was when I baked him the pie for his birthday. I think about the time it took me rolling the dough, cutting the apples, thinking of Ed the whole time.

Our bodies are more than simply transporting our brains. Our bodies are a part of us. They are us.

I want to feel the chipped pain of the siding on my house as I walk to my car.
I want to feel the ground beneath my toes and soles.
I want to listen to the birds and trees sing and sway.

I want to play music with my fingers and tap with my toes. I don't want to simply listen.
I want to dig the Earth and plant food. Not simply reap someone else's harvest at a grocery.
I want to travel, see, taste, experience. Not simply look at pictures on a computer.

God isn't in the noise
God isn't in the computer
God isn't in the fake world.
God isn't in the phone

God is reality.

God is in the silence
God is in the Creation
God is in the hug
God is in the face to face interactions.
God is in you
God is in me

I don't want to simply hit 'brew'

I want to grind the beans
I want to light the fire
I want to fetch the water
I want to boil the water
I want to strain the grounds
I want to taste the coffee

I want all this short tiny life has to offer.
I want the good and the pain
I want the truth
I want the freedom
I want the love

There is something beautiful about generations of shepherds
generations of farmers
generations of carpenters

The majority of the world still lives like this.
The majority of the world still sweats, still toils, still lives in reality.

I let the water run down the drain
I throw the leftovers away
I control the temperature in my house

What if I worked with nature and not against?

Today is the first day of March and we are only 19 days away from Spring.

oh God how I love spring!

rebirth
resurrection
blooming
warming
waking

It's so beautiful.

I am thankful for the winter because it paves the way for the Spring. But it isn't only because of the Spring that I like the winter. It is beautiful on it's own because it is a part of reality. It is a season. Life is more than the parts we enjoy.

Life is painful too.
Pain is a reality.
Reality is good.
Pain is good.

I love the mornings like I love the Spring.

It is the beginning of the day like Spring is the beginning of new life. The beauty of each days sunrise the slow and warm climb above the trees, the hills, the buildings. Nothing can stop it, It's beauty will be displayed.

As Spring inches closer each day, it also cannot be stopped, it will come.

It is God's display of Hope to us.

The sun rising
The Spring blooming
Hope for the flowers.

We are building a new world in the shell of the old one. We see grass piercing concrete. We see a neighborhood coming back to life, rising from the dead.
-Shane Claiborne

As each day passes we continue to grow as a culture of usernames and online accounts. We build more buildings and pour more concrete. But as we move that way I see God moving the other way as well. I see the grass piercing the concrete. I see the urban garden plots pop us where destruction and waste from 'progress' of society has left behind.

I see God resurrecting creation from pride and greed.
I see God resurrecting humans from usernames and screens.

I see beautiful wonderful amazing hope in everything.

I see the secret, hidden, tiny, gentle, quiet Kingdom of God sprouting up everywhere. I see the Sun push up above man's highest building. I see birds build nests on lamp posts where trees once stood. I see God, I see Your face in every sunrise, I see Your face in the smiles of my brothers and sisters homeless in this city. I see You in the children of my class. I see You everywhere. You cannot be stopped, There is always hope. There is always rebirth.

Where there is pain and loneliness
There You are, molding, crafting, working, sewing, resurrecting.

Life is good.
I love this world You have created! I want to explore it with You in my heart. I want You to unlock more and more of Your Kingdom of Hope to me. I want to taste see smell touch hear love, life, freedom!

You are good Jesus!

The Head and the Heart - Down in the Valley