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