Prayer Candle

I pray all the time. I still don't think it's enough.

Sometime I kinda feel like I just have an open dialogue with the Lord. If I say something, I know He hears me. I do try to be in a humble and receptive state when I pray, but I think that waiting to pray until you can be in a space or humility sometimes means I'm just avoiding praying.

So, long story short, I try to pray all the time. Sometimes I can't stop myself. I talk to the Lord when I need Him, which is always.

But I also do like the protected space. I'm not throwing one out. I love church on Sunday for being with people when I pray. But sometimes, when life is overwhelming, I light a candle and lie on the floor.

Offspring and talents

I am sitting here with one friend's child in my lap, and another friend's poem in my heart.

Creation is amazing! I think about this squishy child who keeps whacking my keyboard and where she came from? It's crazy! Crazy I tell you!

But what of words? When someone writes something that goes straight to your heart? The way a child's warm hug touches you?

Or the embracing words that wrap your heart in safety, the way a child's laughter nestles round your heart.

There are brush strokes of a painting when all I did was to pick up the brush.

The Lord creates though us. We are not the creators of any of it. All of these things are straight from the Divine, filtered through us. A gift from Him. And a gift to others.

It is Him and not we ourselves. He creates for us, but He cannot unless we lift the brush, open the laptop, or breathe the words.

I am struck today by the myriad gifts He gives us. I think I am often stuck in thinking that because the gift of human life is the best gift that the other ones are negligible.

It is like the parable of the talents. If the Lord gives us a gift, we should use it. It doesn't matter the gifts He has given to others. The Lord has given goodness to all of us and it's up to us to do something with that!

Listening Heart

Doing things is overwhelming.

You know that feeling when you have so many things going on that you're sure you'll forget something?

I felt that way last night. Like something was about to be forgotten but I didn't know what. I usually write stuff down so that I don't forget things. But what if I forget to write stuff down?!

Luckily I didn't lie awake fretting. I was able to sleep last night, and this morning I got a bunch of things done. Okay, maybe like two things done, but even just accomplishing one thing made life feel much more manageable.

One thing got done, and suddenly my brain was like "It's all good!"

It also helps that today is gross and rainy. Haha. Like for real, today is cozy and amazing.

There is a crackling fire behind me and someone bought me pizza and listened to me.

I don't think I really understood the value of listening until this summer/fall. I mean, I always knew it was important. So maybe I didn't really understand what listening was until someone actually listened to me.

If you don't know what listening is I'm not sure that I can explain it, because I really thought I understood it before now, but now I'm not so sure.

I guess there is a listening where someone's eyes glaze over, or they say something like "When you are talking I have to think about other things or I'll fall asleep." But there is also a listening where you can see affection in the other person's eyes, and concern and care, and you know that they are listening not just with their ears but with their eyes and heart.

It is a gift to be heard.

I sat and ate pizza on a rainy day and someone listened to me and cared. And the world feels brighter.

Write something boring.

What do I want to write today? I don't know, but I know I want to write something!

I've been having fun looking at different layouts and gadgets and what nots for my blog. That's fun!

I often feel like I have to write a certain thing, or change up what I write about. But usually just writing whatever I feel like writing is the most useful. For me, and I think for others.

A friend once said that all you have to do is write the truth and people will relate.

Sometimes the truth is great. Sometimes it's hard and sometimes it's boring, haha.

I'm really enjoying the random color sketches I've written. Just two so far, but somehow writing about my interaction with colors and the colors interactions with each other has been a really cool exercise and it has taught me about trust.

I wanted write another one but my thought process went something like this: Nah. I can't write about the same thing again. I should write another blog post that isn't some weird undefined thing.

But really I think I should just write what I want to write, and write when I want to write. I mean, usually I frown upon just doing whatever you feel like. Thought is good. But I think that the worst case scenario for just writing whatever is that I write something boring. Cause even if I wrote something hurtful or evil anyone reading it would be able to look at it and have their own thoughts about it, and they might even be useful thoughts.

So, worst case scenario, anyone reading this is like "Hmm, waste of time" and they stop reading it.

I'm okay with that.

Look Up!

The redness is back. It's dark this time. Not the bright throbbing glow that drew me last time. It's a deep beautiful red. Is it even the same?

The redness is back and it's pulling me again.

I flinch when I see it. It hurt so much last time. It hurt when I drew near and it hurt as I pulled away from it. Is it even the same red?

The fiery glow that pulled me in last time nearly hurt my eyes it was so vibrant with life. This redness is deep and soothing. I'm not sure if it should be described as vibrant or not. It's full. I must describe it as full.

I see it now. There is a golden glow beyond the red. Mingling in a flash of light.

There is a pain in my chest as I look at the redness. Is the pain a memory or a real feeling? It hurt so much last time! My throat begins to feel sore with the memory.

"Stop." I say to myself. I turn away from the red, but it is all around me. There is no turning from it. I look down and my feet are bathed in the darkness. I look up and rather than feeling trapped I feel close and safe as I see the wide expanse above me. Suddenly there is a dark, deep blue with a myriad of stars.

This tightness, and yet this broad expanse. I should feel nervous. I should feel scared, but the tightness in my chest begins to release. I am surrounded all around by a dark, warm red and above there is so much deepness and light.

Hands slightly open, I begin to turn slowly on the spot looking up at the stars. Is there a familiar constellation in the heavens or are these not my stars? There are so many more than on an average night that it is filling in the expanse. I cannot tell if I should know this place or not.

But I do. Something about it is familiar. No, not familiar. I've never seen this before, but I recognize it. There is something about this that feels safe. I am at home here. Overwhelmed, I fall back but instead of thudding to the ground I fall gradually. The transition from standing to lying is one I hardly noticed.

But suddenly I feel cold. The pain should come, should it not? It hurt so much last time. I was sure that I would shatter.

Instead of enjoying my surroundings I was suddenly shivering in fear. Fear of something that might not happen. Indeed, there was a pleasantness in my chest that seemed to be saying "Do not be afraid." But I was sure that the pain would return and I did not trust the feeling. I curled myself up, looking away from the stars. But folded up, with my face pressed into the ground the red still reached through my eyelids, insistent through my avoidance.

There was no pain, only fear. But the fear began to manifest as pain. My eyelids began to hurt. My stomach knotted with worry and my heart started beating too fast.

"Please stop!" I gasped, pushing on the pain in my chest.

"You are creating the pain." I don't know where the voice came from. I knew it was true, but I didn't know how to stop it. I tried to slow my heart beat just by thinking about it. But thinking about it scared me. I felt so cold and though I tried to stop myself from shivering I could feel my teeth chattering.

Slowly I again became aware of how warm and inviting my surroundings were. But I was still afraid.

"Look up." The voice said.

I was afraid. But how much had it hurt last time? Last time. Everything hurt more than words last time. But then there was peace. I knew that. I knew it then and I knew it now, but trust hurt before the initial plunge.

"Get it over with," I told myself. "You're hurting yourself now. You, and you alone are causing this torment. Look up."

"Look up," the voice that was mine repeated.

But as easy as it would have been to turn my head I couldn't. Resolutely I looked inward. Rolled as tightly as I could I was looking in at myself. Trying to protect my feelings. My heart, my lungs.

But I was causing the tightness. I was causing the pain.

"Look up."

In one violent wrench I tore myself out and looked upward. Light was streaming from the sky. The redness around me and the blue above were mingling together in strong waves. Water poured from my eyes as I beheld the striations of light and color. The beads of wet on my eyelashes added another dimension to the light and colors, refracted in my tears.

But I was safe. Again. Just as I had known I would be. I looked about at the mingling colors and down at the purple and white reflecting off my skin and I laughed.

It was relief. I was safe. I had always been safe. I had caused the feelings of fear and anxiety, but the safety had been around me perpetually. I was safe. I had always been safe.

Curved brick wall

Sunlight stripes the red brick wall. The once light grey mortar is stained black with age. It is a pleasing wall. It curves gently from the building around to where I am sitting and continues around the curve of the patio. In one sunlit patch of wall I can see spider webs catching the light. Stands of silver adorn the wall. Nature's gift to this manmade structure. A less graceful adornment is the bits of bird poop scattered about on top of the wall and streaking the sides.

It is way too warm for November, nevertheless I am enjoying sitting outside on this slightly overcast day with this brick wall for company. Right now he is holding my chai, because I have a paranoia about liquid being too near my computer. I'm klutzy and I don't want my computer to pay the price for my folly. So my computer is placed on this round little table, and my chai is keeping its distance. Thank you, obliging red wall.

Little brown birds are visiting the wall too. They're certainly not here for me. Every once in awhile I forget that they are there and hum along to the Christmas music in my ears and they flitter away. One is much braver than the other. He has come back a few times, hopping up the levels of the wall, probably looking for stray crumbs.

Avoidance and Major Ramblings

I can avoid anything if I want to. I am very good at avoiding the work that I need to get done. I need to write today. Maybe I want to, but part of me really doesn't. But it's November, and I want to write. I need to write an article, and I need to write sketches for the novel I'm working on.

But it's easier to avoid these things.

It's easier to avoid everything.

I'm staring at my nearly empty desk. It's Author's Day, apparently.

Am I an author? Will I ever be an author? When I look at my writing I am sure that it is not good enough and I have so much to improve. This thought should be inspiring, but today it is depressing:

If I am not good enough, whose fault is that but my own? The only way that I will get good at writing is to write.

But for some reason I have no motivation today. I am wondering what the point of it all is? Why do anything?

Do you believe in spoilers? I hate spoilers. I hate knowing how things are going to end or what thing might happen in the middle. I like guessing and wondering at it, and if I know what's gonna happen my motivation dies.

It's weird, cause there are books that I love to read over and over again, even though I know how it's going to end, but if the first time through someone tells me some big plot point I get really upset and sometimes don't finish the book. Maybe that's a fault of mine that I need to work on.

Maybe I like suspense, though I hate thrillers.

Maybe I am just rambling because I am trying to avoid my actual writing for today and avoid my thoughts.

Are there spoilers for life? If you KNOW that you are going to get a job would that change how you approach it? Would you be so confident that you would ace the interview or whatever? Or would you not even show up for the interview because you KNOW you are going to get it no matter what?

It's a silly hypothesis because we cannot know the future. We cannot and we should not.

"The opposite of faith is not doubt, it's certainly." There is some debate on the internet about who said this quote. I'm sure I could figure it out, but who said it isn't important to me right now.

The Lord is the only one who Knows anything. Not we ourselves, not anyone. The Lord is the only one who knows, and we must continually approach Him to have a chance at knowing anything for ourselves.