all grown and facing giants!

i had opted to leave my hair salty and my skin still freckled with sand that evening. i applied coral-red lipstick and half-tucked my white lace shirt. en route to the night's festivities i talked to myself, of course. i talked to those i expected to see. i weighed words and juggled phrases and cut my language with precision.  i prayed that change would have a voice and a body in me that night. that fruit would be tasted of. integrity. wholeness. honesty. confidence. peace. it is one thing to perceive yourself changed. it is quite another to be confronted with the past, faces and environments with which you clung to only a year ago, and to feel the change that took place. this was the test of that change. did a year provide the time to get my bearings straight? would i lose them in the presence of the past? i wondered what i would feel. if i could handle it. aprehensive, i parked near a car i spot everywhere. but only because it was the closest parking spot - and still, it was far far far from the house.  the image of that grey truck is knotted to memories. i am a visual person. and images are what i see when i close my eyes. are what i see when i read or sing.  without looking i see that truck, though owned by others, and know the past has a say in my future, but is not the authority within whose power it is to decide my future. i walked briskly to my dear friend's home that i have ate, slept, and showered in. this time round, the grass would have fixtures of my past, the air would be filled with an old familiar murmur. past these fixtures i walked into the home to help with an item for the party and to confide my hopes and fears of the night to this friend who is more like a sister. yes, i walked briskly but turns of heads and first looks were not lost on me. images and pictures and all things visual stick, remember? there was shock. my presence was obviously unexpected. [i had a personal invitation from the one going away, but not the official event invite on facebook.] the shifting and uneasiness was, well, understandable. it had been a year or so since i had been with ninety-five percent of these people. after sharing in confidence my hopes and fears of the night, i headed to the yard. and i passed you who i knew at one time. and you were a stranger. there was only the conversation of acquaintances not deep dish pizza sharers or late night callers or entangled desperate lovers. because we are not that anymore. freedom. release. walking away without wondering, i felt it. we are separate people, living separate lives. and it is better this way. and i would not change the way things are for the world.  other people filled me in - they had moved out and have roommates, they want to do administrative work, mothers are moving closer, brothers are living with aunts, they want to move from performance to sound work.. on and on. i was honored to listen, to be trusted - if only for a night. and they asked about my life. actually interested. and i, freer than i've ever felt, could answer for myself, for the life i chose, for the only one i am responsible for. i could be happy and proud of it, for it. He has brought me to a spacious place. the boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places. surely, i have a delightful inheritance.  for the first time, i could engage with those i once felt threatened by. i could look in the eyes of those speaking without my periphery curiously reaching for evidence of berayal.  there was none of that. ah, freedom. we didn't speak again and i didn't hang by your side. and i didn't even cling to my dear friend. i was confident. i held my own.  and it was wonderful. years of horrific confusion and constant sadness. and, today, i am a wholer, healthier person. restoration came. is still coming, mind you. but it came! driving away, i was aglow. each time i recount the events, the subtle nuances to the evening and what they mean, i become light. content and grateful. alive and awake.

the transition from one life to the other was much too quick in some ways. the decisions made about a year ago set me flailing and circling and in a completely different - better - direction.  but there were questions. there were doubts. can she be alone? she hasn't taken time to be her own person. i think i wondered too. but that night provided me with assurance that i am my own. i don't need someone by my side to know know know i am somebody. i can take ownership of my life. i know that if things fell apart again, i could handle it*. i am strong. i am rooted deeply. i know who i am. and i'm pretty damn awesome.

before i pulled out from that evening my dear friend said goodbye, that she was proud of me. it meant so much to me to hear that. thanks, lex. and that evening as i got home and laid down (after already falling asleep on the fellers chest while watching a redbox and sleepily driving home), she sent me a text:

"look at you all grown and facing giants!"

i am glad to face giants with her by my side. with other dear friends and family. with the feller. all by my side. i am glad to have faced the past. and to have come out of that experience feeling sure that yes was the right answer a year ago. 

*the feller and i talked about this. we are far from falling apart. and even though he chants momento mori and even though we visited a cemetary on his birthday, he was unsettled by my cheeky but truthful phrase "darling, i am pondering the end of us." the end. oh! the end. i don't want it. but, finally, i am sure of myself. of who God says i am. and it is liberating. so much so that i can ponder the end, knowing full well that i will be okay if it does end. the first time around i was sick with fright. the feller and i - we don't want the end. we can handle life alone. but we are choosing each other. the sharing. the tears. the quiet nights. the discussions. the kisses. the sacrifice. the laughter. life is good with him. he thinks life is good with me. we make meals together and spend days off with each other. we go on walks and make cards for each other. we know each others families. and we treat each other well. we point each other to truth, even when it necessitates change. we argue and discuss and worry . but we treat each other well. we have been through a lot but, i suppose more than treating each other well, we love each other well. he is quite the catch. :)

p.s. i hope addressing you doesn't upset or confuse anybody. the only reason for addressing you is because you were involved in the horror, the change, and (once we both relented and abdicated our place in the other's life), the good. thank you for relenting, for leaving, for releasing me. for living your own life.  you live so near and i don't know you anymore, but thank you - to be frank - for going away. it has been the best thing for me and by the looks of it for you - i think you would agree. 

place a fan

sweltering. i feel like i only hear this word on the news when they enlighten concerned viewers about the oncoming weather. days are referred to as scorchers. "well, folks tomorrow will be a scorcher!" to describe the current weather as such would be accurate but too close to cliche for my comfort. too close to the overused language of weathermen and women who aim at our laughter only to suffer the changing of the channel. regardless their language, they are right.

it's hot, friends. minus the cool breeze we all expected. it's the breath of a dragon after a fiery expulsion. it's the circus-mirror heat waves when you eye the concrete. it's white wine without the sweetness. and it being week ten of summer day camp - i am suffering. and so are the children. most of my days are outdoors. messy monday activities? outdoors. activity time? outdoors. water play? outdoors. team challenges? outdoors. i love summer. i mean, i love summer. bare shoulders and legs (aside from shaving. but, seriously, who does that anymore?). dresses and skirts and shorts and tanktops. and the beach. i am a summer girl who is doubting her love affair with the heat. i leave work exhausted and i come home and immediately place a fan in front of my face. for a girl who shivers at the slightest breeze, this is pretty ridiculous. the upside is that this is the last week of summer day camp. week ten might kill me but only after i've been beat to the ground by the heat.

boundary lines and a busy week.

i shall not be in want because i have not been left wanting. i've said this before. i will continue to say this. because it is a reminder that i have everything i need. that i actually live in abundance. because it points to truth. last year i did not have this vocabulary, this conviction. last year i had tears and headaches and a quiet yes, a wriggling obedience. my recalcitrance was confronted by scripture.

 

lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;

you have made my lot secure.

the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely i have a delightful inheritance

psalm 16:5-6

last year my ill-behaved wants terrorized every good thing. destruction would come, i was warned. the matter, the stuff that held my life together - those miniscule binding components - shook in violence. my portion and my cup could change. but i know the Story. sometimes the cup is suffering. sometimes the portion is blood-sweat. and being in one place necessitates not being elsewhere. and having one life necessitates not having another. my lot would change and my home, my dwelling, my land (and all the things within) would be on the other side of the fence. then and there my yes and obedience hinged on my belief that the new home, dwelling, and land would be good. that the cup and portion would be good. 

there is the promise and then there is all the time before the promise becomes reality. the time before - the changing and moving - would follow the Story. and the only way to experience the reality of things hoped for but not seen was to go through with it. and i did. safe pasture (green pasture!) was found within the loveliest of fences. and what lies outside of the fence is not of importance, is not mine to consider. 

today - all week - i have been a busy girl. i made a centerpiece. i cooked zucchini boats. i cried in the presence of the dearest of friends. i discussed a book. i made plans for the next book. i prepared a surprise, of which the feller was the recepient: took a train, explored shops and buildings, contemplatively walked through a cemetery, napped on grass, interacted with strangers and ate too much. i was number eight in laser tag. i had expectations of friendships. i doubted they would be fulfilled. i feld cared for and cherished because they were. i talked through things. i exercised honesty. i had multiple tiffs with my father. i moved in the direction of reconciliation. i understood he must want it too. i swam in a pool with new(er) friends. today - all week - i have dwelt in the land that was the product of a quiet yes, a wriggling obedience. 

i am tired but 

i am thankful for 

my lot, 

my cup, 

my portion,

and for the One who initiated it all.

therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; 

my body will also rest secure,

because you will not abandon me to the grave,

nor will you let your Holy One see decay.

you have made known to me the path of life;

you will fill me with joy in your presence,

with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

psalm 16:9-11

and smile.

"miss r, you look like an adult."

this was the confidence of a fourth grader at the end of her 2011 school year - 

despite my tussled hair tightly secured in a messy bun and my bare face. despite golden feathers the length of my pinky nail hanging from my ears and the feller's least favorite shirt, incidently one of my favorites at the time, her eyes widened with admiration and discovery - i was an adult. something magical and to be desired. 

i felt the change but could not name it then. she was perceptive enough to take note and say something. and i knew, then, sitting on mustard lunchtables that i would remember her words and her face. thank you, mckenzie for noticing. and for saying so.

nothing is more adult-ish than knowing oneself. my twenty-first year was one of the most difficult for this reason.  to know oneself is to see oneself clearly. among other things, i was selfish, deceptive, a contradiction, and deeply, horribly insecure. the process of knowing myself, which is on going and never quite sufficiently completed, revealed good things too. tenderness. creativity. the ability to care. i digress. as i was saying, knowing onself is a sure marker of adulthood. scrutinizing oneself is invaluable. scrutinizing with gentleness and graciousness. never the mean kind that cynics and unhappy people do.  that day at the lunchtables i knew who i was. the terrible and the terribly good. i looked at the trajectory i would soon be headed and was at peace.  i could sit across from myself and smile. knowing my worth and knowing my strength and knowing my beauty. knowing i would not go at it alone.  of course, i doubted all these things. and sometimes i still do. hello, human condition! you are a predictable one. but in those moments i sink myself in the truth. i do combat with truth. i come up breathing with truth. and in the process i am becoming a young lady. an adult of sorts. how adventuresome and peculiar and mysterious and wonderful to be taking shape, to become.

p.s. tomorrow is twenty-two months with the feller. eeks!
p.s.s. i bought a bathing suit today and had a wonderful experience. this week i will write about it i promise.
p.s.s.s. book club is this week. brave new world. hoorah!

invite them both.

dear little ones,

i do hope you aren't holding a grudge because of the silence between this letter and the last. look over it, please. i said some things about being brave and change and about my job with children - daycare kids. i am going on my third year at this school. i don't get paid as much as others but i enjoy it so. i am in the thick of my second summer day camp (theatre camp included) and will be running the whole daycare sha-bang with alexis next year.

i wonder if you know her. if she knows you. i hope.

one day there will be a time when you experience a spell of stillness.  as if the future is painfully bashful or playfully hiding or proudly ignoring you. and like most things, you will be both thankful and worried at once. thankful because you need a break. worried because you wonder what comes next. invite them both. let gratitude loose you to learn new things and forge good friendships and know who you are and what you like and what you, quite frankly, don't like. but never let thankfulness slip into entitlement or complete frivolity (i say complete, because sometimes to do lists must be left unchecked for the sake of your own humanity). and let worries motivate you to be responsible and practical and frugal and wise. but never let them immobilize you 'neath the weight of impossibilities. the bills will be paid. things will get done.

*

truth be told, i am tucked so tight in this lull i wonder if it might ever pass. if you get these letters, it is proof that it does (if only to interrupt my life again in a few years). in grade school you press towards middle school. in middle school you aspire to high school. in high school you plan for college. and sometimes the schooling continues. and sometimes definite long term plans unfold. but i have no masters program in mind. and there is no full-time career beckoning me any time soon. and so i am, in some eyes, plodding forward for no good reason. i am aimless, in the worst sense. the lull is a euphemism for doing nothing. this, of course means being no one. but can i let you in on a secret? i run at a canyon three-four times a week. and this saturday i am officially learning to ride a bike. and i might just take up swimming too. i am in a book club with friends and loved ones. people i share meals with and couches with. people i watch redboxes with (do we do that?). and i am committing eighty percent of each paycheck to loans. i am paying for my own voice instruction. oh! and since i've graduated, i have become quite the cook! i plan services and lead intermitently on sunday mornings at a church i can walk to. and i am learning about life from these people. about being generous with your home and time and money. and i still play mancala with children. uno. shark attack (duh). hide and go seek tag. sticks and rocks tic-tac-toe.  jenga. i still cook with them and make books with them and organize relay races. i still diffuse conflict and teach them about forgiveness and kindness and about being a good sport. and for the first time, i get to teach them specific bible lessons. i get to pray with them. i get to walk them through lifting their hands and kneeling and dancing and worship. i get to see them close their eyes. and know whatever is happening in that room between them and God is real.

there are times when i am convinced that i am doing nothing. because, shocker, there is no goal to be fulfilled in the near future. but, little ones, i am building a life. with thanksgiving and worry. with bravery. and with joy.

sincerely,
a twenty-two year old who enjoys reading and writing and singing and the local church and children but has no idea where she will end up.

*i think the spell looks like this. do i play? do i sit? do i walk? and if i do, to where?

a melody

my body is aching in strange places today. i'm assuming it's from yesterday evenings run at the canyon. i pushed myself, perhaps too hard. my feet were lighter with my new nikes. and the hills lost their appearance of robustness.

the earth is warmer at dusk - it has absorbed the heat of day and steams 'neath the feet of the tired and determined alike. a runner's only relief are the shadows, a chill breeze, and a swig of water. the point of my prominent chin collects sweat at dusk. and when the collection becomes too heavy it runs down my neck or drips down my shirt. classy, i know. at dawn it is different. the earth is cool from night's blanket of black-blue sky. dew is still visible on dry plants, mist still hangs low enough to wet the face. dawn has a crispness that dusk cannot bottle.

past the halfway point and before the turn out i decided to slow my pace. walking not because i needed to but because i needed to pause. selah. walking because i needed enough breath to sing a melody i have heard in familiar rooms my whole youth. a melody i have sung in a microphone, in the vastness of a congregation, and on my bed through tears.

all i have needed thy hand hath provided - 

great is thy faithfulness lord unto me. 

i may not have a full-time paid position anywhere. i may not be leading a recognizable movement of people. i may not have the excess luxuries that ease life. i may not have a large network of friends to surround myself with. i may not have notable success or talent or intelligence. but He has provided the sum of my needs. even ones i at first refused. even ones i was not and am not aware of. ones that time alone can bring to light. and He continually does so. that is enough to keep comparison at bay, to make small the beast. it is enough to loosen any anxiety that restrains me. it is enough to slow my pace and sing quietly with effort and belief at dusk. 

i've said this before but

i shall not be in want because i have not been left wanting.

period. any want i feel is usually the appetite of comparison and the beast. i know the good things in my life. and they are certainly enough. my life is full and rich on account of the people and places He has provided me with. even in my unrest and conflict He has remained faithful. almost run ins and social media and old habits and appetites might shake my confidence but they cannot shake my knowing, my experience of this. He is faithful and i am the thankful recepient of His faithfulness. 

p.s. i remember reading one time (the language is too beautiful to forget) in the psalms (psalm 37, to be exact) that we "feed upon his faithfulness." it is our food. our only sustenance. and it is enough.

my postulations

i am many things, but poised is not one of them. and i have a way with clumsiness that puts bambi to shame. to the left is a picture of my toe twenty-five days ago. the incident happened at a park within the first ten minutes. it was a field trip with the kiddos. running after an almost first grader, my foot slipped through a plastic ground covering for wires of some sort. i could have crossed over any of the other ones surrounding it but i landed on the only one that was not stable. of course. talent i tell you! my left foot was blanketed in dirt, leaves, sticks, and the like. i rinsed it with my prized dasani water bottle (me, carry water? what?) and i realized that i was bleeding not only from my ankle but from my toe. a more discerning inspection would reveal that i had a deep incision on my ankle and that i had a flap of skin hanging off of my toe, which would be eventually trimmed off leaving a bare section of exposed, raw skin. lex cleaned my wounds and wrapped them. (as much as i struggle with friendships, i can trust this lady.) there wasn't much pain besides the unavoidable sting of alcohol swabs. the whole ordeal was over after multiple cleanings, many bandages, a visit to the doctors resulting in a tetanus shot, and time time time to heal. i lack physical deftness, friends. and i am by no means as polished as my demeanor lets off. i am a fumbling oaf in a small frame. come near me with caution.

that friday triggered a series of laughable events that have inflicted my left foot since then. stubbing and bruising three toes on this foot at a water park. a wart or blister (i have yet to determine) between my big toe and the one next to it sprouting. and a bug bite the size of two quarters side by side is petitioning my nails for a scratch. when i picked up running again last week, i rolled my left ankle. of course. talent i tell you! talent!

i am almost convinced my left foot is cursed. doomed to be amputated one day, by accident or necessity. the feller thinks my postulations are silly and overstated. obviously. but it's still fun to say so. and even though my left foot is cursed, i am still so thankful for it to balance my gait, my stance. to help me move freely, if not nimbly. because some people don't have a left foot. or any feet at all. and some do have but cannot use. so i'm thankful for my cursed left foot. it will give me stories to tell.

the thief

yes, my dear it is.

i have bouts of comparison. remember, the beast will be fed. whether it is by calculating the going-ons of others or by analyzing the bodies of others, it will be filled. it takes one thing. a thin waist, a full bust, a flat stomach, toned ligaments. one thing.* and these bouts fight to overtake me - despite my knowledge about retouched photographs, the variety of bodies on this earth, and my own value as a dearly loved child of God.

i am beginning to shape a healthy concept of the body. and the body in relation to beauty, which is learned by comparison. well, i have been worked over by comparison. exhausted and disheartened by it.

the other day at a water park with the daycamp i work at, a coworker asked if she should take off her shirt (she was wearing a two piece and was worried it might be too revealing). please, no was all i could think. i am well aware of her near perfect body (see my language here? indicative about my relationship with bodies.) and would rather it not be displayed. but of course, i told her it was fine as long as she felt comfortable. and she was. off with the shirt! sigh. i promptly turned to watching the children. well, to pretending i was watching the children. i was actually looking at the bodies around me. old. young. tight. loose. wrinkled. pudgy. muscular. rail-thin. voluptuous. there was so much diversity in size and shape.

i pondered their beauty. and their bodies. i watched the way the held their children. the way they enjoyed the water. the way they spoke to strangers and family. and i decided that loving [people, God, yourself] well is the goal. there is no point in maintaining a flat stomach or spending inordinate amounts of money on implants if i don't love well. the aim of life is not the preservation of some aspect of youthfulness, is not the attaining or replicating of some cultural consensus of what a beautiful body is.

fact: i, having been given new life through Christ, no longer have to answer the

demands of dominant culture. but can instead dismantle the idealogies

that oppose the gospel - that reduce me to only a body, to only my appearance.

and in doing so, i have the gift of choosing other than what 

is demanded of me by the principalities and powers of this world.

that day at the water park, i decided that their body has nothing to do with mine. their size and shape and allure (read: attractiveness, sex appeal, down right cuteness) is entirely their own. it has nothing to do with my size and shape and allure. their beauty does not negate mine. the two are separate and should remain that way. i have no business comparing myself to them. pay attention to your own life stacey. don't look to the left or the right. i resolved that self-care (eating well, exercising to maintain health) is important. and realized how self-loathing often parades around as self-care. desire for a perfect body masquerades as desire to take care of yourself. i decided that what makes someone beautiful has very little to do with their shape or size. i decided that worrying about if i come across as beautiful, the most beautiful, the most sexy and appealing is foolishness. and that i cannot continue to pick and choose parts of peoples bodies and put together an ideal body by which i measure myself by and try to emulate. i also must stop assuming that others are measuring my body against this ideal. again, pay attention to your own life stacey. don't look to the left or to the right. i can hardly handle my own comparisons, why should i be curious about how others compare me? foolishness.

more than a beautiful body, i want a well-lived life that is permeated by love. love that releases me of any fear or insecurity produced by years of comparison.

lord jesus, thank you for showing me what matters and what doesn't. thank you for providing a way out for me - one who is addicted to the praise of others, one who believes she isn't good enough the way she is. thank you for releasing me, little by little, from a life burdened by comparison and competition with others. father in heaven, thank you for being my joy, my steady - the One from whom my identity is derived. you are good. and desire that i be formed into the image of your son by the power of the holy spirit. and that image has nothing to do with my size or shape or allure. and has everything to do with the kind of person i am in light of the gospel and your great love. 


*comparison is not limited to bodies. but you already knew that. it can attack a person's talents, life situation, relationship status, economic status, job security, intelligence.... the list envelopes every aspect of a person's life. and so while i am thinking about bodies, here, i can apply it to all of these areas i find myself scrutinizing and measuring up against any and all ideals.

p.s. i always hesitate in pressing "publish" on a blog. i fear i am not as thorough as i should/could be. or that i forgot to say something. but there will be other posts. and there will be other things to consider. and there is ample time.

this!

graduation meant that the furtherance of any post-graduate work was up to me.
now, of course this means the idea of a masters. but beyond that amorphous idea, is the more important one of studying voice regardless the absence of recitals and juries. what would be the point, afterall, if it would not be part of a program where i would receive a plaque or paper for my efforts? the point is not achievement. nor is it success. you see, i am not writing my own music. i have no band. no record label. i sing regularly. and, for as long as i am able, i want to sing regularly. the point has something to do with my junior year. i began to rediscover, primarily due to a change in instructors, the satisfaction of singing well - hard work and all. the unearthing of such delight took me entirely by surprise. i did not forsee, did not expect the bravery and confidence that would enliven my efforts. my instructor, heather, knew how to teach me. how to correct and encourage simultaneously. she is enthralled with song and it is contagious. it frees me. reminds me to not be so afraid of the notes and languages and lines that are too long. but to try. and fail. and suck. and be okay when my body is too tired or sick to produce a clear sound. and to not consider that, the uncontrollable reactions of my body, as failure on my part. because sometimes our bodies just need to rest. her belief in me has freed me. it began sophomore year. and along the way i became enamored with french, the drama of music, the light and openness i felt when my sound is placed perfectly, and crisp diction. with growing courage, i was able express my connection with a piece of music outwardly. no rolling of the eyes here. no fidgeting movements of self-disapproval. this, this! is the point.

there was no question that i would continue studying with her in june. this time the money would be my own. continuing private studies, i decided, was worth it. and already i look forward to rehearsing, to embodying each song - every word and turn of phrase. i have no intention of becoming a wedding singer or producing an album. i want to explore my instrument - to train it and free it.

p.s. the feller laughs tensely when any song i connect with comes on. i tell him my body feels different. physically feels different when certain songs come on. but it is true. the same thing can be said of the songs i am singing with heather. i feel physically different when i sing them. i feel powerful and energized, even in my vulnerability. i feel more myself. i feel beautiful in my song.

i know know know

ten pm hit me like two am last night. exhaustion due to eight hours at a water park with thirty five children in 80-90 degree weather tucked me in. i recall traces of thankfulness* running through my mind before my body yielded to a heaviness only yesterday could produce. waking up, i dreamt of strange things. things that had nothing to do with thankfulness, with the things i was thankful for. without indulgence and without delay i turned my confusion towards God. why should these things and people i haven't encountered for months (some, a year) still haunt me? still, with the rudeness of a wrecking ball, cut into my dreams? i think i still have much to learn from that time in my life but, oh!, i do want to move on. i am.

the rest of the day went swimmingly, save this afternoon. work has been a joy but the resurgence of favoritism (counselors choosing two or three students and making them, and them alone, exceptions to the rules) unhinges me entirely. as a sidenote, i am a rule keeper. rules give us order. rules put us on the same playing field. rules make things fair. rules give us enough leeway to have fun and excel but help maintain a safe and caring environment. ahem. leaving unhinged (and still tired from yesterday), i turned my frustrations towards God.  how do i deal with counselors undermining each other's authority, especially if it affects the children's perception of said counselors? is it worth confronting those in charge, especially since it is growing more consistent?

via.

i may still have questions but He is there, if only i look. and what is so good about getting to know Him, building trust with Him, actually counting on Him (because time has proven Him reliable and faithful!) is that my instincts are changing, my impulses are different. fruit, at last! it may be fruit only i can see. but it is fruit! resorting to my own self-destructive devices isn't my first turn of thought. my eyes are beginning to turn to Him with the quickness of a child to their parent when something unnerving occurs. i know know know He is pleased with my gaze. and knowing His delight, i find myself drawing nearer.

*it still surprises me, this life i have been given. like that feeling when i see silhouetted mountains to my right as i drive down the hill and home. a lovely greyish lavender - surreal, breathtaking. a loveliness so brilliant my fingers tingle. thinking about my life is like that. the people and the places are like those grand mounds of earth - vibrant, astonishing. i have so much to be thankful for. i shall not be in want (because i have not been left wanting for anything).

loose everything.

long, greasy hair. black angel hair noodles pressed behind his ears with his strong left hand. and tan skin weathered by the sun. loose everything. his frame was too thin and fragile for his adult clothes. but the cigarette in his right hand was an adult decision. fueled by addiction or recreation or boredom, i'm not sure. but he smoked like it was the only thing he'd spend his money on. he smoked like it was the first and the last thing on his agenda. he smoked like he was whispering secrets to an old friend. and passing a fellow smoker (but complete stranger) in front of a 711, he was wished a happy fourth of july. the stranger proceeded to his car with much more than smoking to accomplish. happy fourth of july. happy fourth of july. the statement of goodwill stopped him - his gait faltered and his cigarette balanced between two fingers three inches from his mouth. shit, it's the fourth already? whatever appearances he was maintaining before (we all maintain some sort of appearances, yes? usually appearances that justify our importance.), he forgot them. he was revealed for the disconnected member of society he was. a transient, an outsider with no plans for the holiday. with no idea that the holiday was, in fact, that day. immediately it became apparent that he was not attached to any community that would recognize this holiday. no job. no church. no school. his pace continued more fractured then before. in figure eights he muttered to himself this is why i don't celebrate... black shirt against the terra cotta wall he cursed the government and business never... nicotine easing his anger, he gained his composure and left.

because i drift

anchors.

despite the fact that they are latest trend (all things nautical, that is), i have been thinking about things - on our tongues and in our hands - that prevent us from the drifting. because i drift more often than i am comfortable to admit. there are days when i am bewildered by a tempest, violent and uncouth. my drifting here has more to do with shock and the helplessness that follows. there are days when i choose the tempest, set my course for her paying no mind to my hazardous behaviour. essentially i think i can handle the drifting. proud creature, i am. arrogantly greeting a billowing storm, welcoming it, thinking i can tame it, survive it, and steer myself to safety. but the latter isn't what i care to discuss. that starts and ends with foolishness.  it is the former - the drifting that i do not plan, do not want, and do not think i can survive.

anchors.

growing up there was a wooden cross, not bigger than the size of my palm, that i received from a group at church. and at night, when nightmares came of conniving theives and murderers i held it. there was a bible given me by the same group. it is my favorite one. i held this too. held on because the figures inside my mind were near tangible. blue-green veins like small rivers rose feverishly underneath my transluscent skin. and i remembered i am safe. i am safe. i have nothing to fear. He is my peace, my protector. shh, shh. go to bed. back pressed against the wall, knees to stomach, eyes shut tight tight tight.

there was a phrase i used in the fall of 2009. ah, here it is. it was inspired by a chapter in richard foster's publication prayer. whenever the tempest began to stir, i whispered this 'neath my breath. i chanted it desperately. i clung to it knowing it was the truest thing about me. whatever i had placed my identity in prior to that fall was exposed - lit with truth and honesty - for the sham it was. that phrase was an anchor, grounding me to a reality that was being fiercely challenged by my experience.

the phrase i shared here is the same. it pulls me in and keeps me steady. keeps me from the helplessness that follows the shock. keeps me from looking for the tempest. it keeps me.

anchors.
metal or stone.
words or objects.
securing me to truth.
fastening me to reality.

but straight through

the past week has been fun, to say the least.
pushing through (never around or over or under but straight through) hard days or moments is becoming easier in the sense that i am pushing though. rather than wishing i could. or feeling wobbly with tiredness. or feeling woozy with insecurity. whatever wobbliness or wooziness i am presented with (or have created over time and is now surfacing. ahem, the beast?) i know that i can.
it occurred to me at around 5:48 am a few weeks ago, sweat on my brow and the marine layer dissipating, that i have the tendency to give up right before i reach a goal. or perhaps i should say, i cease putting forth my best effort near the completion of a goal.

example: when i run the canyon with my friends i set markers. run to the tall teetering teal plant (excessive, i know). jog to the forrest green bench still covered in dew. walk to the 2.5 mile marker on the wooden fence. markers. goals. often, usually on the running markers, i stop. i stop right before i cross the marker. my heart rate increases. my breath feels tight. and though my body can make it to the marker (further, if i dare to be honest), i stop. i slow to a heavy trot, which slows to a walk.
running, i have determined, is an exercise in discipline. i don't much care for the figure i achieve. but i have more energy after my 5:30 runs. my body feels lighter. headaches are less frequent. and i am learning discipline. i am learning perseverance. i am learning to have integrity, even in my running.

come on stacey, you could have done that.

you could have gone further.

be honest with yourself.

push through.

i am not after a self-masochistic regime, where i beat myself into achievement. i am aware of my limits. i have high regard for self-care. but i know that when i begin to trot or walk before i reach a marker, i'm just not giving my best. and because i've allowed that habit to become a sort of life philosophy, i am fighting it back. and teaching myself new habits. because if i don't learn these virtues now and begin ordering my life by them, then i will bear no fruit. all my efforts will be in vain, will be for sport. and soon, all my efforts will end with an apathetic oh well that relinquishes me from caring about the my own fruitlessness. i refuse to be a branch that is cut off. instead, i will offer the parts of me that bear no fruit to God and leave the cutting to Him. He is gentle but He does what is best. knowing this, i can trust Him with these decaying branches. i can trust Him with an axe. and i can trust that it is for my good and the good of His kingdom. 

and at the same time

the beast could probably narrow its focus to a handful of people and subjects. there is always room for expansion - for it favors and welcomes all information, but still only a few tighten its throat with maniacal pleasure giving way to squeal after squeal of ecstasy. and these people and these subjects... well, i can't help but be enraged by them. enraged by them - not the beast. because the obliteration of them would mean the sure death of the beast. provoked by their allure, i hope to do just this. my ambition is their demise. wishing them ill. harboring malice upon malice. but this is foolish. this is not sound logic (oh, spock). this is not a wise response in light of the gospel (which turns all things on their heads). because i know well that the people and the subjects have shifted over time. because there will always be room for expansion, for the inclusion of new people and new subjects to devour. the beast will have its dinner. pork or chicken or lamb or veal. it will be fed. and yet i am enraged by the meat, the people, the subjects. not by the beast. what absurdity! to look upon people and subjects with suspicion as if they are cheering it forward, this spry monster. as if they are the guards to this madness i sometimes feel. what tragedy! to forget their form - dust, yes. but more! image of the living God. sigh. what tragedy. to perpetuate disunion and brokenness. in myself and others.

i am seized by fury at them and subservience to the beast

and at the same time

i am seized by the good and right desire to love love love without suspicion, with trust, with patience, with gentleness and starve the beast.

the latter one i want more.
and i am not sure how long. i always wonder how long. you see, i can speak about it so because i know it so. i know the madness and i know the beast and i know the rage and i know the tragedy. and i wonder how long. because how does one change the set of the heart? how does one change involuntary emotions? how does one change unjust biases? three questions is enough. three is always enough. last night i discovered words to describe my distorted dispositions. suspicion and fear have become hallmarks of my equilibrium. if only to survive the devastation i have experienced over the years, i accepted suspicion and fear as permissible ways to navigate through life. they became filters through which every person and subject must pass. and so the bent and misshapen, the seemingly unbalanced became my only way of feeling at ease. here, i will turn to experiential psychologist, carl whitaker. though his methods were unorthodox (and would probably be deemed unethical today), he sought to shake people (specifically, families) out of their equilibrium that they might find a new equilibrium. a healthier one, more conducive to a rich life. you see, the beast keeps my equilibrium just so. meaning: i can function in all of my daily activities and be a productive member of any group i am a part of. however, when it comes to real situations... i am paralyzed. even my filters turn on me. everyone is criminalized. and i am enraged. there is also confusion as to why i am in the same place (i am using same loosely. i know well i am not in the same place as i was a year ago. but it is not too far from it in this area). ah, some clarity at last.

i am in need of a new equilibrium.
one not governed by suspicion and fear.
one not governed by the beast or by rage at its choice meat.
one forged by hands that are not my own.
because my own have not served me well thus far.
i still wonder how long.
and in the words of David, i join in lament:

"have mercy on me, Lord, for i am faint;

heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.

my soul is in deep anquish.

how long, Lord, how long?

turn, Lord, and deliver me;

save me because of Your unfailing love."

psam 6:2-4

and with the saints, i join in hope for things i do not see, things that might take a while. but, nonetheless, things that have been promised.

p.s. forgive the length of this post. i feel it should have been divided into two parts. but i am tired and will be running at 5:30 in the morning. 

details are delicacies.

i attended a play a few weeks ago and the main character, mad with bloodlust, said of his cousins 

"they are concerned with things that are not their concern." 

reclined in a dark theatre, unventilated and sticky, i felt exposed. 

click.

"don't look to the right or to the left

but keep your eyes on Me."

this gentle instruction to have a steady gaze is saving me from an intrusive urge to, well, intrude.
unwelcomed investigation. overeager concern. voracious meddling. call the actions what you may, but i know the beast by name. and it knows mine. it is certainly more than action. it takes shape when there is a lull in my schedule. i think it becomes braver at night. i always feel my curiousity spike when my head is on my pillow and my phone is near my head, its searing orange LED light a call to look look look. technology is its friend. it spoon feeds it, really. sifting through papers and scrolling through pages satiate it, keep it at bay. but it returns greedy for information. it lacks all sensibility, all wisdom, all control. it wants to know. anything. everything. details are delicacies.

oh, but this song. and miss johnson's sweet, spontaneous reminder near the end of this song point me to a God who is steadfast. a stronghold, a fortress, a refuge. my strength. the One worthy of my gaze. i do not need to know. i do not need to search. looking at Him, i am sure of this. and the beast shrinks back when i turn my gaze and look full in His wonderful face. and the beast grows dim in size and strength. yes, the beast grows dim and i am made free. and i become braver. and i become sure that it is better to trust than to know. what a dreadful thing if i were to devote my existence to this beast! this indefatigable beast whose demands steal my time and my energy - steal my gaze and give it to unfruitful things. no, i want a fruiful life. remember? intended growth. i want a trimmed life. without the sort of excess that will make me lazy and ungrateful and a sqaunderer of time and energy.

so i starve the beast of my gaze and give it to the One who is worthy.
and He will instruct me where, what, and who to share my gaze with.
of this i am sure.

dust.

with the start of summer day camp this week i am reminded of my finite form:

dust.

don't get me wrong, i love my kiddos. i equate their scribbles to van gogh. they are silly. they are curious. they fumble through hellos with ease and forget offense in favor of a team game. and their discoveries illumine every contently slouched and apathetic part of my heart.

i am working roughly thirty hours a week at summer day camp. with children who desire friendship and leadership. my responsibilities range from leading worship through music, coming up with skits, bible lessons, etc. to leading team challenges to being attentive to what the little ones are up to (they are always up to something) and, at the same time, being attentive to the older ones who want a game coordinator, referee, and participant.

this doesn't include my job at my church or family time or date time with the feller or friend time with lovely individuals or running or cooking or cleaning or voice lessons.

and today i can feel myself pulling inward, starved for hardy portions of quiet.
it is the reading, writing, crafting, lounging, eating in quiet (read: alone) that i covet.

it is the quiet that i want.
and as an introvert it is more need than want.

i am dust.
i flourish like the grass and flowers...
and am gone when the wind blows.
my frame is weak.

and so i carve out time.
no, i guard my time.
and i lean on the One who is strong.
and i find that in my leaning, my admittance of weakness
i am strong too.

that better life might grow

one would think that graduating college would give me more time to write.
and i suppose it has but i just haven't made it a priority like i have
friends
family
running
reading
working
or
resting.

i will get back on it soon.
it just takes one post. and another.
and the courage or motivation to write another.

but today i have a quote, and my reason for posting this quote?
i am memorizing john 15:1-8 right now.
and upon opening my devotional this morning i was delighted to read this quote.
and think of my tiny roses given to me by the feller that sit on my window sill -
whose leaves grow green but lack buds.

"any good gardener knows that beautiful roses require careful pruning. pieces of living plant have to die. it cannot just grow wild. we cannot simply 'celebrate growth.' it is more than to be regretted, it is tragic that we seem to have lost the insight that growth in Christ requires careful pruning. pieces of us by our intentional action need to die if we are to become the person that is in God's vision. we are not cutting away a cancerous growth, but making room for intended growth. mortification refers to that intentional action of pruning of life that better life might grow by God's grace - just as better roses grow by God's grace."

urban t. holmes III

spirituality for ministry

there is more to it but this is all i can swallow at the moment.

today my niece and nephew graduate high school and middle school respectively.
they will undoubtedly shy away from pictures, contorting their faces or hiding behind hands or tough exteriors. but we will all take pictures. and they, looking back, will be forced to recall how aggressively they recoiled from the camera.
i love them.
i am filled with hope for them.

this time last year.

today is june the first
today does not feel like loss.

i think i will always remember this time last year. though the months that followed (not unlike the years before) were crowded with foolish choices, it was the first time in my life i made a pivotal decision. it took time to order the rest of my life with that decision, but i chose. a well-ordered life brimmed with health was my aim. health does not come easy. this i have found to be true.  adjustments were made. habits were done away with. and health can still be hard to come by. the human condition, marked by a clear depravity, is sure to inhibit health here or there along the way. this i have also found to be true. the heat of a california summer will always remind me of this. it was the first time i recognized my own humanity. my wretchedness. it was a dawning of every selfishness. small rebellions crossing the horizon. blood sunrise. not light but darkness.  and on i rode obliterating all hopes, taking back every promise in the name of self-preservation.  yes, there was part of me that fought the decision. a part that, being allowed to do as it pleased for so long, was threatened and reacted in horrendous ways. a part that was a coward in the face of change, despite its layered armour. and cowardliness made way for foolish choices.

the confessions that followed (and there were many) made way for wise, right, good choices.
confession paired with action gave me back the resolve to choose life.
a year later i can do nothing but give thanks for the graces given me.



and today, june the first, this very moment, i am


relishing



indulging



delighting in



the change that took place.
the chances i was given.
and the life that has resulted.

painting via.

in other news:

it is five and i have spent most of my day (after sleeping in) sniffling, blowing my nose, sneezing and drinking liquids. in between these activities i have eaten breakfast (fruit) and lunch (albondigas soup), played harry potter on the wii with my nephew, played legos with my nephew, and have finished the last pages of The Help by Kathryn Stockett. The last three hours have been quiet. passing cars - metal cutting through air. birds, i wonder what kind. mom and dad are both visiting their mothers. the former in san diego tending to gma's shingles and inconsistent diet. the latter in a hospital nearby while my gma regains the ability to independently do things for herself. it reminds me of death. of their age (and of how young i am). of how fragile our bodies are. of how decay is guarenteed. of how it only needs time to torch the harrowing trail to hospital beds and nurses and doctors and medication and and and. it reminds me of life. of friday morning, alexis bringing me oatmeal and packets of emergenC and good conversation.  of yesterday spent with the feller and his family in san diego. both of us were sniffly (he actually got me sick) so we didn't make any plans to go out. but we lounged. cooked. talked. laughed. went on a walk. of this morning spent with my mom and dad and nephew - with questions about my symptoms, about the trip to san diego and with a list of their worries about their mothers. i know i am not saying much today. nothing worth erecting a monument about. but all of these moments - the lego moments, the heating up of soup mother made for her mother and me moments, the hand of the feller's younger brother as we walk around their new neighborhood moments... are worth remembering, worth examining, worth giving thanks for, worth noticing... and i am much more interested in these moments than the one's that would naturally draw more attention. the small less than monumental moments. those are the moments for me.

in other news:
i need to write more. because this is poorly written. slightly cheesy (the end? sigh.). and my syntax, my pattern of speech and organization of grammar is so predictable. is this a bad thing?
book club starts up again in june. Brave New World. hoorah!
i will be running a canyon a few times a week in the early mornings starting this week.
i have been cooking healthy meals. let's break that down: i've been cooking. WIN. healthy. WIN. meals, emphasis on it being plural. WIN.
summer is in full swing, which means life is in full swing... this means working a lot and spending time with loved ones when i can. it also means paying off loans. eeks.

grace.

not always

i helped the feller and his roommate move on saturday and sunday
twenty plus hours of packing, cleaning, more packing and more cleaning. lots of music and ridiculous statements/jokes. complete exhaustion. food breaks (i.e. sandwiches, pho, ice cream sandwiches, vanilla filled pandas, barbecue chips, orange chicken and rice). jacuzzi time. finally cable and internet and planet earth: incredible families. snuggling and quick signs of affection between lifting, organizing, and scrubbing.
i've never helped anyone move before like this. i'm sore for goodness sake. and i can't calculate the number of bruises i've accumulated over two days. but it was so much fun.
and i am excited for the future. for moving out. for moving in. for eventually living with people other than my parents. for grocery shopping, dish washing, and bills. yes, even bills. for small experiences i will capture with my holga, given to me about a year ago from the feller.

we will not always be young.
but while we are young let's set this world on fire.
i had to do that.
ahem.
but while we are young i resolve to enjoy and be thankful for every ride in a uhaul, every cheap and filling dinner, every dog that playfully attacks me, every hug and kiss, every deep gaze, every every every.

p.s. their new place has windows, long open windows. natural light galore. my favorite.

i graduated.

two weeks ago today i graduated.
and as i said here, it was a different experience than most. for example, i didn't have groups of people to take pictures with before or after baccalaurette and graduation. i had family. and the feller, who also graduated. and his family. and a handful of friends. but it didn't bother me like i thought i would. i know why things are like they are. and i can accept my blunders and be thankful for the strong pillars of support and generosity i have surrounded myself with. they are wonderful people.

the evening before, i sat with the feller crying. thankful for my school and the four years spent there. but feeling as if the whole experience was compromised - what did i accomplish? who have i become? i said to him i am the same, nothing has changed. of course, that is a limited, dreary outlook. but i still become ill with insecurity about my body. i still tremble at preposterous assumptions and suspicions. i still worry worry worry. and i told him it's taking too long. it's tiring. it's hard. change will never happen.

we talked. and sat. and cried. concluding that He is faithful to complete the work He started in me, in us. that change comes slowly. but that change has come (hello, look at the last year!). and that change will come because He is able to turn a heart of stone into a heart of flesh. that, in the words of thomas merton, an apple ripens by sitting in the sun. that perseverance is of utmost importance. we concluded that there are good things to look forward to even if we must pass through the threshold of fear and doubt.

vulnerability is a brilliant opportunity to expose oneself as they are.
and though i hate it at times (who likes to be seen as they are? sometimes we are monstrous, hideous, broken creatures.), i am thankful for this intimate sharing.
sharing words. sharing tears. and pressing our lips against the salt and sorrow, against each others' tan taut faces.
yes, vulnerability is a brilliant opportunity.

two weeks ago today i graduated.
and i am a different girl from four years go.
and i am a different girl from even last year.
and He is faithful.

psalm 126:3

the Lord had done great things for us,

and we are filled with joy.

niv

p.s. pictures to come. 

confess

"no, it isn't easy living with hearts like ours: let us confess it."

-carlo caretto, the God who comes

mystery of mysteries!

this morning i am reminded of how much my heart desires oneness with Christ,
how my heart delights in simple devotion to this King and Friend.

it thirsts for Him.
i know that imagery is used ad naseum,
but His word is life to me.
it doesn't just give life, it is life.

and while i need this Sustainer to be my strength, my rock, and my help in time of need (hello, it's finals week!) He is so much more than a fulfillment to my need. He is so much more than a therapeautic idea.

He can be known. mystery of mysteries! He can be known.

my heart's cry for oneness, for closeness, for knowing can be heard even in the midst of my exhaustion and anxities.
and my heart, deprave as it is, not only needs Him but longs for Him.

and i trust.

and before i start to type and memorize and type more,

i am anxious about life after graduation.
not because i won't have a job, because i will.
not because i won't have a place to live, because i will.

but because of all the uncertainties that change brings -
remember eleven months ago?
my life completely shifted.
you have no idea.
did things turn out wonderfully?
yes.
but it's that same shifting that my stomach is in knots about.

i won't have school to schedule life around.
and for someone who indulges in a full planner,
it's frightening.
and for someone who likes certainty,
it's worrisome.

click ^.

and so i look to the One who i know,
the One who knows me.
and i trust.
trust trust trust.

matthew 6:34

therefore do not worry about tomorrow,

for tomorrow will worry about itself.

each day has enough trouble of its own.

niv

so don't worry about tomorrow,

for tomorrow will bring its own worries.

today's trouble is enough for today.

nlt

so no worry bout tomorrow,

cuz tomorrow get plenny fo worry bout.

every day get nuf trouble fo dat day.

hawai'i pidgin

p.s. the last one is fantastic. sometimes hard to dicipher, but fantastic. 

finals week

my last finals week of undergraduate career equates:

seven finals and a portfolio/exit interview

three today
one tomorrow + work
one wednesday
two thursday + baccalaurete practice
and finish the porfolio/exit interview somewhere in there.

oh gosh.

but on saturday?
i graduate.
and i must must must be thankful for this unique period in my life consisting of early mornings and study guides and last minute choir concerts and seven hours in the MIDI lab.
i will never know this again - this time from eighteen to twenty-two.

i stink

sometimes i must say to myself,
in the face of distraction and wanting to know:

just stop caring.
mind your business.
live your own life.

i have a feeling this will be my most difficult lesson to learn -
as evidence by the years it's taken for me to even say those things to myself.
i stink at learning it.

, but gosh

today has been wonderful.
had a small bout of anxiety to push through.
but wonderful.
the sky took my breath away all day long. even now, as i look through my doorway and out my window... wow.
clouds, though they usually mean oncoming rain or a chilly day, are my favorite.

and now,
i must start something.
ahem.
i mean finish something:
worldview paper. my projected number of total pages? forty.
eeks.
i'm close, but gosh it's a lot.

i saw this today on [pinterest]*:

i can relate.
off i go.

*ew. the feller calls it a den of comparison. i wholeheartedly agree. but sometimes it's not so bad.

with the confidence

a week from now i will be taking my last final of my undergraduate career.

there is still so much to be done.

so much.

but i've decided to care for myself.

to let the quiet on the inside grow.

to focus on the task at hand.

to sleep a good amount of sleep.

to avoid some social media.

to rest my voice.

to spend an hour or two daily with friends, family, and the feller.

to wake up early instead of going to bed late.

to take things one day at a time.

i think my graduation experience varies from the majority of people here at school.

for the past four years i lived my life mostly outside this campus and community.

i had other communities, other friends, other ways to spend my time.

and while i've gleaned much from my professors, i didn't develop friendships with them outside of a coffee here or there.

i went to school for classes, not friendships.

and not until recently did i begin to subtly change how i approach this all.

especially on choir tour. 

that being said, i'm not sure how to approach this graduation experience.

i still, after so many years of feeling this way, see myself as an outsider in some ways.

and wonder if i create that boundary, if that's inherently a bad thing -

being an observer and not particpator. 

more reflection on this later.

today the quiet in me swelled under a grey sky.*

sleeping more than usual, with the confidence that an assignment turned in late won't affect my grade.

wearing kick-back clothes and no make up, with the confidence that i am beautiful apart from high waisted shorts and colored lips.

driving in the silence, with the confidence that i need more silence in my life.

walking an empty campus, with the confidence that i am impacting these children's lives.

and while waiting for children to be dropped off at 6:45 am.

there is always a lull after i clock in and before the first one arives.

and i always, to-do list aside, dedicate this time to the Lord.

because He is deserving and because it aligns my soul in everywhich way.

i began reading through psalm 121 this morning.

(the one that has been made into songs again and again and again).

and took solace in my Helper - the Maker of heaven and earth.

and took delight in this watchful One, this One who cares enough to stay awake, alert, engaged.

today will be a good day. 

much to do tonight after classes and work.

but good nonetheless.

*i am painting my bathroom grey soon. next week, i'm sure. thinking about it makes my heart glow.

keeps living

waking up at three thirty isn't so bad when you went to bed at around nine pm.

did you know the birds are awake at this hour?
the world keeps living while i am sleeping and typing.
and while i may feel uneasy about this at times, it is encouraging to know that the world does not hang on my attention to it. that i am, as important as i'd like to believe that i am, not all that important. well, at least not in the sense that i keep the world going.
just a thought at 5 in the morning before i shower and eat and type more.

helps me

dustin o'halloran helps me do homework.

simple piano fingering.
swelling strings.
ethereal background noise.

yup.
it helps ease this massive headache.
it helps focus this tired, sleepy girl.

did i mention i have three more weeks until graduation?

bahhhh.

right now, i do not want to do homework.
i want to
paint.
go on a walk outside with the feller.
read.
do my eyebrows.
clean.
sit in silence.
write.
make something.
do laundry.
sing.
make a fruity dessert.

anything but homework.

three
more
weeks.

bahhhh.
graduation come soon!
but not too soon.
but soon enough so i don't collapse under due dates.

this weekend was crazy.
rollercoaster much?
such is life when people are broken and messy and are looking for protection, security, and peace in dark dark places.

today i sang in my last spring concert. so much truth in our repetoire.
more on this later.

tomorrow i'm not washing my hair.
this is the advice i get from choir people.
let's hope it doesn't look too dirty.

there is so much to say.
so much i want to write about:

tour - the characters, the communities and places i touched, smelt, and listened to.
stories for stories sake.
not forsaking the Rock.
health issues.
the power of God in the face of darkness.
yadayadayada...

i think this post, having no point and zigzagging every which way, is my pitiful attempt to avoid homework.
eeks.

even my soul is wet.

did you know that this month is national poetry month?

the library at my school reminded me with this poster. 

fact: i love watercolors.

i want to write. in color and sideways on paper without lines. in black and white on screens with fonts much more legible than my own. i want to write. feelings. not just about feelings. but to completely encompass and write out the feeling itself - in all of its vibrancy, in all of its melancholy. i think this is why the romantic period is my favorite period in music history. the feelings aren't explained or deconstructed - they are experienced.

here is a poem for today, and probably this month (because this month i graduate and there is not much time for poetry, or posting poetry, when one is graduating):

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

Pablo Neruda

in the middle

this morning as i write my concert report, i am listening to Bruch's Concerto No. 1 in G Minor for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 26.

the soaring emotion evoked from the violin is breathtaking.

the lines sing themselves.

the phrasing pulls and releases; all passion and vigor, known well to the heart of any man or woman who has encountered longing and contentment and felt the terrible inevitable tension in the middle.

it is all drama and richness - the two victors of the Romantic period's war against the obsessive concern with form and concise expression that swept through the prior century. intellectualism left no room for tension in the middle.

le sigh.

is it strange to say that i have a sort of infatuation with the tension in the middle? 

that i indulge the tension, for the sake of the tension?

that i relish in every ascending line, slow crescendo, and hanging fermata?

i do.

i do i do i do.

p.s. the picture above is a daguerre, entitled "dioramanea". he is a romantic painter - all drama and richness. i love it.  

myself.

day two of feeling incredibly myself.

wake up at 6.
oatmeal with the feller at 6:30.
work on MIDI project 7-8.
class 8-10.
finish MIDI project 10-11.
class 11-12:30.
lunch/grad fest 12:30-1.
class 1-4.
group project meeting 4-6.

and right before the meeting started, finding my keys were locked in my car. this hasn't happened in so long. i've followed my professors advice the past year and a half or so and would check to make sure my keys were in my hands before i shut the door to my car. and if it weren't for the stack of text books, notebooks, and other miscellaneous items i was holding i would have caught this. but i didn't. and i didn't worry either. i just worked on my project. with my group. however, i was assisted after the group meeting by three boys and a hanger. my keys were pulled with force out of the small crack i left open for fresh air. enough force to frighten me and threaten their lives if they broke my window. they did it and i said thank you and we laughed at how ghetto* we all were. i went home in slight traffic. some people mind traffic. and if i have a place to be at, i suppose i do - in varying degrees - as well. but with no place to go but home and nothing to do but homework i enjoy slower drives. to think. to drink water. to be alone. to turn the radio on and off, switching stations, cds and finally deciding on silence. always, silence. (well, not always. most days. but not always.) to roll down all the windows or none depending on how quickly i get goosebumps.

now homework.
at the end of this month


i
will
be
graduating.

what a relief.
what an accomplishment.

*and when i say ghetto... i mean mexican. because i am mexican. and the person who suggested the hanger idea? mexican. the other two weren't. but they knew how mexican the whole situation was. as did the people walking by, giving us skeptical looks as we folded a hanger and wedged it through a small crack.

so delighted.

today i felt fully myself. those kinds of days are more frequent than a year ago, for that i am thankful.

as of late i have been listening to soundtracks from musicals.
duh.
specifically chicago, jekyll and hide, and phantom of the opera.
i will see chicago this summer.
with the feller and the roommate/his girlfriend we don't often hang out with.
how exciting!
i think i want to perform in a musical after i graduate.
sometime within the first year, maybe next spring.
the ensemble is enough to satisfy me - i just love the music, the movement, the stories, the expressions...
all of it.


four weeks until i graduate.
eeks!

today is good.
mother just called me down for dinner.
chicken.. rice pilaf... need i say more?
then off to school and a night spent in costa mesa.
acting, recording music, reading and writing.
and sleeping on a floor that isn't mine but one i've grown to love.
today is good, did i mention that?


also, i love my life.
and the professors who help me untangle things.
and the professors who offer to help the feller and i untangle things.
love works through things. for the joy set before it.
love is not about a winner or a loser (though it is so easy to divide into camps and declare war instead of serving, sacrificing, and prefering the other, instead of sitting in front of eachother, hands held, tears rolling, lives committed, working with eachother).
love perseveres.
and persevere, we will.*

sigh.
i am so delighted with my lot.

*love does and is many other things. and while i may know them, i desire to learn through life experiences and the demands of relationships. it will be hard work. but if these past months have been an indicator of anything... it's that all of the hard work is worth it. all of it.

go at it alone,

and though i will go at it alone,
today will better.

spent

the drive home was all nausea and headache.
it was tiredness and dismay.
it was fury and fraility.

the demands of these last five weeks intimidate me.
school, work, internship.
relationships with family and friends.
and the looming decisions i must make, though i feel pressed and pressured and backed into a corner by the loved and the loathed.
i feel as though the loved and loathed have determined to dismantle what little rest and peace i have right now in my busy, busy life by questioning me (desiring only my submission) and having me reevaluate and restate my reasoning until i feel as if my very reasoning is no more than the unbalanced, delirious logic of an equally unbalanced delirious young woman.

i am spent.
i feel the quiet fracturing of my will.
my patience.
my wonder.
my stamina.
my passion.
my trust.

in all of my undone-ness i slipped out of today's apparel and into my sister's eighth grade basketball sweats and the feller's t-shirt. i borrow clothes. i keep the clothes i borrow. within five minutes underneath white sheets and watercolored comforter, i fell asleep. heavy, deep, and deserved. and while i am no more made up than i was before the nap, i have the advantage of a more rested body.

the fracturing is still there.
some things are too difficult for me to do.
some things i just refuse to do or further discuss.

and in my ungraceful collapse under the difficulty of situations and my own refusal to comply to the wishes of the loved and the loathed,
i am spent.

like i know

oh, i have so much to write!

but for now, as the second day of spring bleeds into the third, i have this song:

nothing says spring like brooke fraser.
i almost saw her once with the feller for our annual christmas dinner with jackie+josh. but the feller and i were both twenty and too young to legally attend. instead we spent the evening at balboa park while the other two enjoyed dim lighting and jokes hailing from new zealand. that was a hard night on stone steps in a quiet stubborness under a luminous moon. it was followed by a blissful afternoon on cold grass in a crescendo of vulnerability under a dance between the sun and the shadows the next day. and a kiss on the forehead goodbye. the first one. december '10. chills. and surprise. and laughter. just lovely.

sigh


God is so good. i know this like i know my heart is beating like i know my nailpolish is chipped like i know wooden floors are smooth and carpeted floors are rough. His goodness, though not always obvious, is real and concrete.

the lord reigns

the lord reigns, he is robed in majesty;
the lord is robed in majesty
and is armed with strength.

the world is firmly established;
it cannot be moved.
your throne was established long ago;
you are from all eternity.

the seas have lifted up, o lord,
the seas have lifted up their voice;
the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.
mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
mightier than the breakers of the sea -
the lord on high is mighty.

your statutes stand firm;
holiness adonrs your house
for endless days, o lord.

psalm 93

all of that energy

fact: i am busy

this week:
fifty short answer questions for worldview
first (and) second round of scenes from doubt for acting
finale project for midi
interview due for abnormal psychology
voice recital
voice performance class
start and finish research for presentation for world civilization
attend two hour classical music performance
usher at a play
prepare for onslaught of exams next week

next week:
four exams (abnormal psychology, cognitive psychology, music history/literature, and worldview)
reason project for midi
paper about play i ushered at
and on friday i will leave for choir tour, which happens to be placed during spring break (my only possible opportunity for rest dashed!).

[all of this in between classes, work, and an internship]

fact: i do not have time to work things out and extend myself to remedy situations. i do not have the energy to even try and approach such things. because all of that energy is being poured into all eight of my classes, my own attempts at self care and my disciplined and joyous care for those i am closest too.

make well

this morning i am holding thankfulness closely.

and letting it make well my sick, fearful heart.

perpetually cold

i want to write. i need to write.
but because the weeks go by quickly and the hours even quicker
i have not written.

i am a busy girl this semester.
22 units.
internship.
work.

but before i endeavored a few more hours of brisk typing,
i was perusing blogs.
and i found this:

dear whoever is reading this,

this is me. add a sweater. leggings underneath the sweats. and it's even better.

love,
a perpetually cold young lady.

look again.

past all difficulty.

this week i am learning that life getting better doesn't mean you have gotten past all difficulty. it also doesn't mean that you won't be bothered by the things you thought you resolved days, months, and years ago.

and while i would love for life to be this way. while i wish some people would disappear completely (because, let's face it people are messy and i'd rather leave the excessively messy ones behind. or at least the ones who stir things up that i'd rather be left alone. oh, and the ones who just won't go away and insist on being an impeding presence in some area of my life.). while i wish things could be resolved once and once only.

i know that something good will

come out of this...

more self-love

a surer sense of who i am

a well-primed ear to listen

a well-trained tongue to speak

better conflict resolution skills

strengthened relationships

it doesn't mean i always want to push through and cry through and work through and think through and talk through and process process process. because it's tiring and i have had enough of life's difficulties. and i have exams to study for and papers to finish and presentations to prepare and an internship and work to attend. the busyness of right now paints processing as not worth it, not productive, not conducive to maintaining low-stress.

but this evening, as i cared for myself in small ways,* i was able to gain some perspective

and some clarity. and while the fog hasn't lifted completely - feelings never lift and clear easy, do they? - i know that the processing is worth it. even though i hate it at times.

*making my bed. folding a weeks worth of clothes i wore and didn't wear piled on a chair. putting dark clothes to wash. working out. long shower. plucking my eyebrows. it's amazing how these small things soothe a mind weary of unresolved conflict.

p.s. i also wrote out five pages today, in between classes and on breaks, to help me think more clearly in preparation for a conversation that is happening tomorrow. i only do this in situations that are tangled like hair that hasn't been brushed.

p.s. i wish difficulty didn't come at such an inopportune time. my birthday is friday for goodness sakes! but i cannot schedule in difficulty. how unfortunate.