"Writing is an act of discovery" -Jack Harrell
"When you're writing, you're trying to find out something which you don't know" -James Baldwin
Truth? the more I write the more I know I don't know. and I think that's okay.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Buried Resolutions
In the bottom drawer of my nightstand I found the journal I'd been keeping for nearly a year that for some reason or another I'd neglected since returning to Boise. Maybe I should clarify "journal" I don't necessarily date every entry and remark on events of each day; it's more like a mass scribbling of thoughts, lists, questions, and lots of quotes. I remember things better that way and they make more sense (plus I think it's less boring).
Anyway, I found this passage taken from Nicholson's play Shadowlands which I studied in my senior seminar class. I remember being very reluctant to read the play because it dealt with C.S. Lewis' life teaching in Oxford and falling in love. The only thing appealing to me about it was the Oxford part. Maybe it's because I hear C.S. Lewis quoted so much it becomes cliche and well...who likes being cliche? Well, the play humbled me. This quote humbles me (C.S. Lewis' character says this):
"I think that God doesn't necessarily want us to be happy. He wants us to be lovable. Worthy of love. Able to be loved by Him. We don't start off being all that lovable, if we're honest. What makes people hard to love? Isn't it what is commonly called selfishness? Selfish people are hard to love because so little love comes out of them."
Every time I read that my pride gets stung because it rings true to me. If only I could always be reminded of this. Is there love coming out of me? Do the people I love know that I care? Sadly, I really don't know. The other night I was talking with a dear friend about the importance of actions. It's so easy for me to constantly think things over in my head, come to conclusions of how I feel, feel content without ever saying or doing anything.
To the outside observer, I'm easily perceived as a quiet, stuck-up girl who doesn't need anyone (I'm not saying this blindly, usually these are the first impressions people have told me they get from me). I need to concentrate more on actually showing others how I feel, expressing my thoughts and allowing myself to love and be loved. I think I allow my fear of getting hurt overcome any sort of action which is terrible. Just writing this makes me uncomfortable because I'm exposing quiet thoughts. But I have to start somewhere. Even if it is on my narcissistic blog.
Anyway, I found this passage taken from Nicholson's play Shadowlands which I studied in my senior seminar class. I remember being very reluctant to read the play because it dealt with C.S. Lewis' life teaching in Oxford and falling in love. The only thing appealing to me about it was the Oxford part. Maybe it's because I hear C.S. Lewis quoted so much it becomes cliche and well...who likes being cliche? Well, the play humbled me. This quote humbles me (C.S. Lewis' character says this):
"I think that God doesn't necessarily want us to be happy. He wants us to be lovable. Worthy of love. Able to be loved by Him. We don't start off being all that lovable, if we're honest. What makes people hard to love? Isn't it what is commonly called selfishness? Selfish people are hard to love because so little love comes out of them."
Every time I read that my pride gets stung because it rings true to me. If only I could always be reminded of this. Is there love coming out of me? Do the people I love know that I care? Sadly, I really don't know. The other night I was talking with a dear friend about the importance of actions. It's so easy for me to constantly think things over in my head, come to conclusions of how I feel, feel content without ever saying or doing anything.
To the outside observer, I'm easily perceived as a quiet, stuck-up girl who doesn't need anyone (I'm not saying this blindly, usually these are the first impressions people have told me they get from me). I need to concentrate more on actually showing others how I feel, expressing my thoughts and allowing myself to love and be loved. I think I allow my fear of getting hurt overcome any sort of action which is terrible. Just writing this makes me uncomfortable because I'm exposing quiet thoughts. But I have to start somewhere. Even if it is on my narcissistic blog.
Monday, January 4, 2010
threadbare
what are these threads that bind souls together? I want to explore the looms and tapestries of time. Dip my fingers in dyes, play the strings of this blanketed harp, strike chords through the human races: shatter to the soul. Weave in and out the metallics with the greys and intertwine the light with the dark. Cradle them and press them to my face. Imprint your love on my skin. Let me dress up in your fabrics of truth and I will run through fields with you as my banner. This banner of souls singing deep; singing true. We will make the climbs and open the doors. We will stretch almost too far and feel every last thread breathing, pulsing, beating to drums that know of suffering.
And our beauty will shine.
And our beauty will shine.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
I keep Death on my mind like a basset hound
I know that earlier I alluded to having a rather bah humbug attitude toward the holidays this year but I never really said why. And I wasn't planning on it in such a semi-public way but right now I just need to write. My Grandpa was suddenly sent to the hospital the week of Thanksgiving. My Dad and I drove out to Idaho Falls as soon as we could and spent a couple of days with him basically to see him alive for the last time because the doctors said he wasn't going to make it. They diagnosed him with bone cancer, the family set him up at a Life Care Center for comfort care and shed some tears. Life suddenly took on a very real and different meaning.
I am a very sensitive person; sometimes too sensitive. Death is hard for me even with being LDS and understanding it all--it's just hard. The thought of his fast-approaching death would hit me frequently and always catch me off guard. Bless my manager's heart at the museum who understood and let me cry for a bit. All the hype of Christmas just didn't do it for me this year; everything seemed like a commercial, a gimmick, just fake. I went through the motions wondering when we'd get that phone call.
Grandpa held on through Christmas and I remember saying, "Well, maybe Grandpa will get to see 2010." He got close. He died at 11:48 am Wednesday, December 30th. My family and I were driving back from a vacation in McCall and had spotty service so we didn't get the news until we got home later that day. My Grandma ended up being the last to find out because she was in the temple when he passed. She said she felt very peaceful and wasn't surprised when my cousin Kristin got to her and told her the news. They spent the rest of the afternoon in my Grandma's place, crying and talking about Grandpa. Grandpa had lost so much weight his wedding ring wouldn't fit his finger anymore so now she wears it. She's such a tiny, precious woman. I so wish I could be like her one day.
At first the thought of bringing in the new year with a funeral sounded so dismal. The drive out to Idaho Falls was very somber and snowy. I couldn't really let myself think about what was happening and not until I saw him in the casket did it start to make a dent. Having all the family there was more than wonderful. It'd been so long since we'd all been together. Hearing my aunt give his life sketch and my father talk celebrating this honest man's life was beautiful. I loved having a specific time and place to actually cry, share emotions, feel love and realize the great effect this man's life had on so many people. Many tears were shed and still will be for a while. I'd never realized before how great a funeral can be when the plan of happiness is understood and how much your testimony can grow.
Right now I can't think of a better way to bring in the new year--as morbid as that might sound to someone who doesn't understand. My family has grown exponentially stronger together because of this instance, this death. Yes I will be tender for a while but it's a good tender. The sadness will subside and the happiness I feel for being able to call this man my Grandpa will remain constant.
There's so much more I need to write but for now I'm going to try to sleep. I'm thankful I have this void to write to. It's just comforting.
I am a very sensitive person; sometimes too sensitive. Death is hard for me even with being LDS and understanding it all--it's just hard. The thought of his fast-approaching death would hit me frequently and always catch me off guard. Bless my manager's heart at the museum who understood and let me cry for a bit. All the hype of Christmas just didn't do it for me this year; everything seemed like a commercial, a gimmick, just fake. I went through the motions wondering when we'd get that phone call.
Grandpa held on through Christmas and I remember saying, "Well, maybe Grandpa will get to see 2010." He got close. He died at 11:48 am Wednesday, December 30th. My family and I were driving back from a vacation in McCall and had spotty service so we didn't get the news until we got home later that day. My Grandma ended up being the last to find out because she was in the temple when he passed. She said she felt very peaceful and wasn't surprised when my cousin Kristin got to her and told her the news. They spent the rest of the afternoon in my Grandma's place, crying and talking about Grandpa. Grandpa had lost so much weight his wedding ring wouldn't fit his finger anymore so now she wears it. She's such a tiny, precious woman. I so wish I could be like her one day.
At first the thought of bringing in the new year with a funeral sounded so dismal. The drive out to Idaho Falls was very somber and snowy. I couldn't really let myself think about what was happening and not until I saw him in the casket did it start to make a dent. Having all the family there was more than wonderful. It'd been so long since we'd all been together. Hearing my aunt give his life sketch and my father talk celebrating this honest man's life was beautiful. I loved having a specific time and place to actually cry, share emotions, feel love and realize the great effect this man's life had on so many people. Many tears were shed and still will be for a while. I'd never realized before how great a funeral can be when the plan of happiness is understood and how much your testimony can grow.
Right now I can't think of a better way to bring in the new year--as morbid as that might sound to someone who doesn't understand. My family has grown exponentially stronger together because of this instance, this death. Yes I will be tender for a while but it's a good tender. The sadness will subside and the happiness I feel for being able to call this man my Grandpa will remain constant.
There's so much more I need to write but for now I'm going to try to sleep. I'm thankful I have this void to write to. It's just comforting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)