It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness -
I’m so accustomed to my Fate -
Perhaps the Other - Peace -
Would interrupt the Dark -
And crowd the little Room -
Too scant - by Cubits - to contain
The Sacrament - of Him -
I am not used to Hope -
It might intrude upon -
Its sweet parade - blaspheme the place -
Ordained to Suffering -
It might be easier
To fail - with Land in Sight -
Than gain - My Blue Peninsula -
To perish - of Delight -
Though our feelings come and go,
His love for us does not.
It is not wearied by our sins,
or our indifference;
it is quite relentless in its determination
that we shall be cured of those sins,
at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.
Chaim Potok took me out on a coffee date:
he told me stories and i gasped.
and suddenly i realized how much i missed voices.
the words are important,
but simply the act of being read to is strangely comforting.
perhaps that what made the summer gold.
the movement itself has power
i've started to use a simple question on myself:
"how am I acting like a four year old?"
complaining when things don't magically appear
while standing in a house full of love and blessing
just cause i can articulate my grumbling in multiple adjectives
doesn't make it any less pathetic
thank God for grace which comes daily like manna
things that made me 'happy' this weekend
- singing with loud voices
- dancing (two skinned knees to prove it)
- listening to wise men and women
- my Kate
- baby holding *smile*
- car rides to and from
- fresh air
- an abundance of blonde girls
- watching God's people be happy
i'm already pitying the poor soul that comes on too hard
shattering isn't too far away
forgive me if i splatter onto your naive face
this morning orions belt had shifted west
and i almost cried
time is playing tricks on me
the satisfaction of coordinating with nature
for the sake of not being so vague:
mercy and i were between shoot and meeting:
saw alleyway and infiltrated.
one of the couples in the houses parallel were very confused
i think they thought we were well dressed burglars.
we only steal light
drinking: the weakest coffee ever.
why do i get so fearful with quantity of bean?
listening: new music. She and Him
not going to fib. i'm lurv'n it. even the hoe-down flair is swallowable.
reading: The Chosen
after Asher Lev i scrambled for more of the same genius
wearing: clean clothes
some of the last. washer contains tomorrows wardrobe.
wanting: Lines & Shapes
all my stalked blogs are raving about their copies.
may be my xmas present to myself this year.
just try to resist smelling like early summer and age eight
being: hope filled
Dum spiro, spero
i wake up to story lines and images
this one in particular this morning
"You're dreadfully ignorant."
"No, I'm not."
But she was exulting in his ignorance. "I shall sew it on for you, my little man," she said, though he was as tall as herself, and she got out her housewife and sewed the shadow to Peter's foot.
My photography work has the strange quality of Isolation.
Driving back and forth from equipment swapping...
my car and me and empty silence.
I've spent a lot of time alone this past year.
In the midst of a shoot with kids screaming and my mind chattering lightmath...
In the fight to remain covenanted and be...
Children's fiction mostly.
Simple stories with simple truths.
Laughter and tears
Because simplicity is a delightful foreign concept right now.
In the battle between Isolation and Being,
stories are sharp weapons.
Isolation is the vast Wasteland
When words, thoughts, actions, hopes and failures seem to pass unheeded.
Like wind on the desert.
A story takes the wind and gives it meaning.
A story is evidence of Being.
Moses' years as a shepard and Jesus' as a carpenter.
So i read.
In a small way;
reading is a way of loving the author,
(Though my hands haven't gotten the message)
I think like an artist.
I know what they desire...
to be heard,
to be reacted to,
to be 'true' enough to make welts on the brain.
Though I can't converse or touch Asher Lev,
(current character on the floor next to my bed)
I have the honour to listen
to acknowledge his Being.
Takes faith to believe the loving will be of good.
All those verbs are love.
Once Isolation hits,
my little heart goes numb,
and opening to be vulnerable...
(for all love will make way for pain)
...is the wildest sacrifice.
After hours of blinding photoshop,
the last thing I want to do is respond to my family.
But in doing so I accept my dependence of Being lies with them.
Here is the impossible miracle;
That I can give all to my work,
which involves invariably Isolation.
Turn, and give all to my dear ones,
which involves Being and Love.
Only because my Being was never mine.
And God said unto Moses,
I AM THAT I AM:
and he said,
Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel,
I AM hath sent me unto you.
Seeing God, Job forgets all he wanted to say,
all he thought he would say if he could but see Him.
I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer.
You are yourself the answer.
Before Your face questions die away.
What other answer would suffice?
Only words, words;
to be led out to battle against other words.
It's edited and prefaced by Lewis, who says of MacDonald's work:
"The quality which had enchanted me in his imaginative works turned out to be the quality of the real universe, the divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic reality in which we all live."
So as I work away the moments tonight, I am encouraged by the grace of God, who covers my meager faithfulness and calls it "good".
Tumpy: They always use zebra for Z, like nothing else.
Glory: what else would they use?
Glory: That starts with G. Gahzootype.
Tumpy: Oh fine... they could use Zzz.. zebra... oh wait.
I think she meant Gesundheit...
If I had all this time on my hands
Well I would love to share it with you
And though our days have made other plans
There is nothing I'd rather do
Than sit and talk with you
My beautiful view
one of my all time favourite songs:
just for Papa
(after the first verse the song no longer applies...
but perfection can be short lived)
well it's over.
and it went very satisfactorily.
i'm booked to do a bunch of others.
learned a LOT though...
shooting manual is a whole new beast...
i usually shoot semi-manual,
but fall back on automatic often.
alright you Canon Creeps.
obviously you can't really compare...
because my Nikon is way below the performance of the Canon i was shooting
it was nice just to have that kind of range
not to mention shooting in raw is like finding gold in hay
*goes back to pretending to accomplish things*
today scares me.
i shoot my first portrait shoot
as assistant photographer
under Sommer Photography.
i'm still trying to figure out how she thought me qualified.
this will also be my first shoot to use Canon.
okay, well there isn't an "and"...
just a throwback to the,
"scares" part of this monologue.
and look out the window with you
just about the fullest eighteen days ever
since i am horrible at gathering time into words,
and for the sake of not becoming completely incoherent,
we will just skip over that period of moments.
evil child, i know.
let's talk about my Abba.
because He's been a constant factor.
He loves me so hard,
i would shatter if it weren't for the protection of His Son.
let's talk about worth.
the miracle of how i am worthy to glorify the Creator,
not because of anything that i've emitted...
but through the adornment of those about me.
let's marvel on that.
let's talk about weather.
how beautimous it is to wake up without sweat on the small of your back.
walking against cool breezes.
let's talk about showers.
how they are always a surprise in pleasure,
and never quite as soothing as in your own bathroom.
somehow my shampoo smells stronger in strange lands.
let's talk about fruit.
fresh and continual.
i'm living on it,
and fresh beans off the plant.
let's talk about missing.
let's not talk about my sorry state of non-photography.
i can't seem to get up the gumption.
happy without processing that way.
wondering if i should worry about that.
because i don't worry about things that affect me.
just things ethereal.
that was my thought process.
such as it is.