Autumn Activism

I am realizing more and more... it is not enough wish things were different.

So, what can be done? Because I often feel small and overwhelmed by the world and all of the things happening in it. I am just one person. You and I are just two people. But I also have Margaret Mead in the back of my mind..."Never underestimate the power of a small group of committed people to change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

Here's the deal - we live in a broken, fallen world. But we cannot expect anything to change if we are not willing to change. So... what to do?

And isn't it lovely?

1. Have an opinion - not just the opinion of your parents, friends, coworkers, etc. Have one of your own. Educate yourself by not only listening to others who share your opinions, but also those who disagree with you. Make sure you have an open mind and hear what others have to say.

2. Educate yourself - constantly. Read articles and blogs, listen to the news on the radio and television, try to branch out from your normal go-to places of information to seek out new concepts and ideas.

3. Share - if you find it informative, odds are someone else will too. And with the amount we are inundated by vanity based posts on social media? We can always use one more source of knowledge over one more selfie.

4. Object - don't just let things happen, be a part of change. If you see or hear something that shouldn't be happening whether it's bullying, slut shaming, racism, sexism, ableism, a wrong statistic, an ignorant comment - make sure you say something. Don't wait for someone else.

5. Give - your time, your talents, and your treasure; volunteer, donate, write articles, share companies that do good things, expose companies that do bad things. Go and see with your own eyes, support those already doing amazing work around the world and in your own backyard.

6. Use your purchasing power - for good. They say if you want to see what really matters to a person, just look at their bank account summary. And it's true. We put our money where our hearts lie, and our dollars move and shape our world so spend them on companies and ideas that move and shape well.

7. If we are thinking, we are winning. Flobots basically sums up all things. If you are challenging what you know, if you are asking questions, if you are looking at the world around you instead of just your own life - you are winning. You are creating a world in which people must have answers for their actions and reasons for their doings. You are creating change.

We have the power to create change or we allow change to happen through our passivity. Remaining ignorant is no longer an excuse in an age where information and answers are just a click away.

In case you need some inspiration... here are some things I am semi-obsessed with right now:

This Pinterest Page

http://www.pinterest.com/hippiejuggler/social-issues-activism/

'Cause it's awesome.

This Book

http://areyouoverrated.com/

Because our generation needs to be challenged.

The Enlightened Shopper

 

http://www.enlightenedshopper.com/

An online store that posts about products that do good in the world.

FEED Projects

http://www.feedprojects.com/

Feeding kids for a full year - and you get a trendy bag.

The Noonday Collection

 

http://www.noondaycollection.com/

Providing employment and education for women and children through the creation of cool products that you would love to have in your closet.

This Blog

http://www.babyadamsjourney.com/

All the time.

And this.

So get out there and do something.
Me too. ;)

To Do List

Dear Mama, here is your "To-Do List"
Please do these things as they seem pleasing in no particular order at all.

Abandon the dishes, the laundry, the vacuum, the broom, and the mop.

Tidy up. Do not clean. There is a difference. Tidying means throwing things in the general direction of the place they belong so you don't get overwhelmed by the need to clean your house and you can appreciate all of the fun and beautiful things in the world and in your house.

Go outside. Let the baby wear his boots and his jacket and fall in as many puddles as he likes. Let him run. Take carrots, feed the donkeys (give Guinevere 2 and make sure Arthur only gets half, he's such an ass). Walk the full length of the drive at least twice. Pick flowers, take half indoors to put on the table and feed half to the goats (they will appreciate this a lot so stay away from Cosmo, he might pee). Soak up as much sun as possible, even if it's just through the flat grey clouds. Stretch your hands to the sky and wiggle your toes in your shoes. Get wet if it's raining.

Put on fun clothes. Clothes that make you love your body, comfy and loud, nothing like what's on the mannequins at the mall. Clothes that are not practical, but flowy and colorful.

Turn on salsa music or cumbia or anything that reminds you of Latin America. Mala Rodriquez, Winsin y Yandel, Salsa de Oro, La Quinta Estacion - it doesn't matter, just turn it up loud. Pick up the living room and dance. Baila, quierida. Do all those salsa steps you've forgotten but your body remembers. Move your hips. Life your arms above your head and let yourself go. Dance with your husband, dance with your baby, dance all by yourself.

Light as many candles as possible. Don't worry about how much they cost or if you are going to burn your house down or set the smoke alarm off. Make your house full of light so that you will be full of light.

Roll out your yoga mat, press your hands and feet into it and breathe. Do as many sun salutations as your body will allow, then do 10 more. Stretch and move and keep breathing. Turn on a class or do your own thing, whatever feels best in this moment.

Paint your nails. Go with black or green, french tips or just a clear shiny coat - it doesn't matter. Do it while the baby is sleeping so you can still pick him up later and show him your new nails.

Snuggle your little one. Give him lots of kisses, especially when he pushes you away. Play cars. Turn on his noisy giraffe. Read him books, even if he doesn't sit with you. Play 52 card pick up. Play it again. Give him "drumsticks" and a bucket. Play your guitar while he pounds. Let him play your guitar with you.

Read a book. Bake something sweet. Eat that something with no guilt. Make a fort. Write for awhile. Do henna. Drink a glass of wine two glasses of wine. Let your hair be wild. Kiss your husband, dance with him. Laugh a good belly laugh. Make dinner as a family. Eat it as a family. Sing to your baby and your husband. Sing just because.

Shut the laptop. Turn your phone on loud so you can grab it if someone needs to get ahold of you, then plug it in and leave it there. If you do pick up your phone, use it to take pictures and videos of you and your people. Silly pictures. Ridiculous pictures. Send those pictures and videos to friends who need a pick-me-up. Then put the phone down again.

These things are your priorities today everyday.

I Am Not A Pinterest Mom

Awhile back, I wrote on the Facebook wall of a friend from another era. Just a "Hey, how are you doing?" kind of hello. He asked me if I had beaten Pinterest yet. I wanted to kick him in the teeth.

Truth: I love Pinterest. It combines the two things I love most in this world after God, my family, and adoption: images and information. I am almost entirely visual. I cannot handle being told anything verbally unless I have a pen and paper. Pinterest beautifully weaves together my learning style and passion for knowledge into a blanket of lovely. If you scroll through my Pinterest you will notice that every single pin is my style of aesthetically pleasing. There are two notable exceptions: home school information (which pains me that no one has made a pretty graphic for all of it) and things I post for Marko. I have a problem.

I try every recipe I post.
I sew every clever project I pin.
I plan out every housing project I would do if only my pockets were deeper.
I create home school curriculum.
I honestly spend more time just scrolling through my own pins and admiring all the pretty images than anything else.
Except maybe the "Kiddo" tab.

 

Adorable.

And the Kiddo tab is my undoing. I consistently find pictures and stories that bring me to tears - happy or sad. It's ridiculous. But also found on the Kids tab are parenting articles. I'll admit (with extreme prejudice) that sometimes I find a blog that I find humorous or informative, but mostly it just makes me feel like a failure. My son is 13 months old and nowhere close to sleeping through the night - or in his own bed. We don't have a washer/dryer so we can't do cloth diapers (don't get me started, I fully understand how uneconomical and un-ecological disposables are). I tell him "No" more often than I would like. I get frustrated with him when all he wants is my attention because I want to get something done. I am upset because we live in a way that means I work part-time and I don't get to be a stay-at-home mom. I never actually got around to teaching Rory sign language. We didn't do any cute month-by-month pictures. And he ate peanut butter and strawberries before he turned one.

Lord help me.

I consistently forget to get my son breakfast before 11am. Sometimes he doesn't go to bed until 10:30 because I don't feel like making it a battle.When Rory throws a tantrum, I often forget to calmly explain to him the what and why and just throw a tantrum back. A "well balanced lunch" is regularly frozen blackberries with bread dipped in peanut butter and jam. I use sarcasm (in case you weren't aware) and realized yesterday that I have been actively trying to teach my one-year-old to throw things (plushy footballs, but still). I swear, I have little-to-no sense of time, I let Rory play with any tool that has no sharp edge, and enjoying watching Criminal Minds while he plays with his toys next to me.

I am winning no parenting awards.

Last week while hanging with my wonderful girlfriend, Becca, we were discussing what it meant to let God "love on you" and we came to the decision that it was a balance of accepting who God has made you to be and really living into that. The analogy I decided on was yoga (you're surprised, I know). In yoga, there is no perfect pose because the goal of each pose is actually to go beyond physical limits; putting your forehead to your shins is not the objective, the objective is to go through your shins into the earth - but that's impossible. You are constantly accepting where you are while striving to go further in yoga. And that's what it is like to let God love on you.

And that's what it's like to be a parent.

I have the perfect example laid out for me in scripture. A Father who loves me unconditionally, who calls me back when I have wandered, whose heart breaks when my own is broken, who forgives me all of my many many transgressions. And I will never compare. Not to the Pinterest Moms, and certainly not to God. But one of those is worth striving towards and one of them isn't. Some perspective is in order here. Who cares if I potty train my son in three days as long as he is unconditionally loved?

At this point, all I can do is pray for wisdom, strength, and have another cup of coffee. Because being a mom is never going to get easier - just different. And there will be one million voices telling me I'm doing it wrong, but there will always be at least one telling me even though I will always do it wrong, it's still worth trying.

To A New Mama

My sweet baby boy is now one; from breathing his first breaths, saying his first words, taking his first steps, throwing his first tantrums - it has been quite a year.

For this occasion, I wrote the Roranicus Rex, Destroyer of Worlds, a letter. But that is private. So instead, I will share with you what I would write to myself, one year ago...

Rory with his first Gelato Cone.

Darling and Blessed Woman,

This is it. You have been patient, at least, you were patient sometimes. You have have endured. You have been tried and tested; physically, emotionally, psychologically - some tests were easier than others. But this is it. That moment you have waited for. You, beautiful woman, are a Mama.

The little one you carry in your arms is your beloved child and you are his Mama. I know it doesn't feel real and you cannot believe that he is actually yours, but believe me? He is. Write down these moments, photograph them, but mostly just live in them. For as cliche as it is, your child will grow faster than you can grasp and you will never again have this second, this millisecond, with him.

Mama, you will get advice - so much advice. Some of it will be good, but most of it will be nonsense. You are the mama now, you make the decisions you feel are right. Trust your instincts. People will tell you that they "love this stage" and you will stare, open mouthed and covered in exhaustion from the night before. But be gracious, someday you too will be coveting the days before. Say "thank you" and move along. Time is the rosiest pair of glasses. Dear one, sometimes it will not be advice, but criticism. Know whose words to take to heart, and whose to let pass over you. There may be friends lost over such words, but there may be friendships strengthened through them as well. Keep heart.

Speaking of advice... Drink water. Carry that water bottle with you wherever you go, along with a string cheese. You won't realize you're hungry or thirsty until it is too late. And then you will be tired, grumpy, and still needing to feed your tiny one regardless.

Trust me when I say, it is okay to be frustrated. Sometimes you will not want to wake up at 3am. Sometimes it will be all you can do to not just put your fingers in your ears and bury your head in the covers. Sometimes, you will do those things. Say a quick prayer for patience, for calm, for love. Because it will not always be easy to just pour out love on a screaming little one, especially as he gets older. Practice doing it now. It is normal to get upset, it is normal to be frustrated, even angry! Don't blame yourself. If you need to take a moment away? Take one. That's what husbands are for, after all.

You will be overwhelmed, Mama, by the love you feel for this small inscrutable human. Tell him. Tell him everyday. Show him. Especially on the days you don't feel like it, especially on the days he yells at you, especially when he bites you, especially when he throws his head into his hand and screams because he cannot communicate.

Put down your phone, get off the internet, turn off the television. Spend time doing whatever it is he wants to do. Whether that is to tear all the books off the book shelf and hand them to you one by one so he can climb onto it, or run around outside eating the lettuce out of your garden. Encourage him to play by himself, but always be there to engage when he wants to play with you. Because there will be a day when he is no longer interested in asking you to join his fun. Show him how to help you do the things your doing, because he loves to do laundry with you and drawing is fun!

You were made for this, you were made to do this. It doesn't mean it will all come naturally, it doesn't mean it won't be so difficult it brings you to tears - it simply means that it can be done and you can do it. And yes, someone else might seem to be better at it, but they aren't you. They were not made perfectly for this child in this moment, you were. He will look like his daddy, but have your eyes. He will be strong willed and full to the brim of emotion! Just like his mama.

There is so much I could tell you, sweet new Mama, but I think I'll let you find the rest out for yourself. Pay attention, there will be so much!

With infinite love,
Malia

Passover Me

I have been trying (see: failing) to post about Lent since before Ash Wednesday. Reason being? Lent makes me angry. Christians treat Lent like some secondary opportunity for a New Year's resolution. You know the social media status I'm talking about:
"I'm giving up chocolate."
"I'm giving up Facebook."
"I'm giving up carbs."

To what point and purpose?!

Lent is meant to be a time of meditation and focus on the cross and the sacrifice that was made there - when we give up (chocolate, social media, carbs, etc.), are we giving it up to better concentrate on the things that matter? Or are we giving it up selfishly?

... deep breath.

I've decided that while I am irked (see: furious), I don't want to (see: can't properly) discuss how Lent has been bastardized into something of a fad diet. Instead, I am going to talk about myself and how this Lenten season has affected me this year.

"For we have this hope as an anchor for the soul..."

If I am being perfectly honest, my biblical studies have fallen by the wayside since having Rory. My prayer life has never been fiercer, but there just haven't been enough hours in the day to really dive into scripture. Reading novels is easy enough while I'm nursing or before bed, because I don't really need to or want to carefully consider the words on the page. I don't want to write in the margins (most of the time), underline, or pick up three other versions to reference back and forth and look up original meanings.

Now that Rory is a little older? It is a little easier. He can play with his copious amount of toys while I really dig my heels into several chapters before he crawls into my lap expecting to be snuggled. But still, I don't often get that opportunity - or, rather, I don't really allow myself that opportunity. I'm constantly doing dishes, making bread, folding laundry, and a variety of other chores instead of picking up my Bible. Bad, Malia.

But Lent has left me with some excellent resources. The first was seemingly obvious: The ECC has partnered with World Vision to create Covenant Kids Congo, which you can read more about through the link, and has provided congregations like ours with free prayer materials for Lent. Once I read about it, I decided that I wanted to read the print out and be in prayer for the multitude of children with food, water, medicine, education, etc.

Secondly, I found myself really loving the concept behind World Vision's Lenten materials - that Lent could transform itself week by week as I spent these 40 days falling back in love with (and making time for) my bible.

Lastly, the blogosphere. I'm not what one would call an "avid" blogger, nor do I avidly follow many blogs. I am more of a lackadaisical reader of blogs and author-when-motivated. But a friend of mine turned me on to an interesting concept that I hope you'll check out: Atheism For Lent. The idea of giving up perceptions of God to make room for who God actually is; The study follows common arguments against God as well as the works of Freud, Marx, Nietzsche, and Žižek. It is vastly interesting. I have had several people question me in my pursuit of this avenue, but if my faith cannot stand the examination of nonbelievers - what kind of faith is it? I would argue that if I never allow my beliefs to be questioned, that they are not beliefs at all, merely wishing projected.

I have also taken time to really read through several blogs on sexual purity within Christianity and the idol we create there, sexuality in general, adoption, physical abuse, suffering as a whole, and other various topics that I have fully submersed myself in. I've read opposing view points, gentle leadings, kind words, harsh words, angry rants... and I must say, my heart feels lifted already. I find myself clicking on link after link after link, eager to pour more over my never quenched cup soul. I also find myself examining my own Bible for 3 minutes here, 10 minutes there, and writing so much in my freedom rediscovered.

It has been, and I hope will continue to be, a beautiful season of growth for me spiritually. I am filled up, yet never satisfied and yearning for more. I am lost in a maze of glorious sacrifice and I couldn't be more contented.

Now if I could only apply that to other aspects of my life...

Somewhere in Morocco

I dislike coasters. I don't really see the point of them because I like coffee rings - specifically when there is only one because you always put your mug in the exact same place every time, but lots of rings are fine. It gives an otherwise inanimate thing character. Which is important because it isn't as if that inanimate thing has a personality that can inform you as to it's character, you must inform it.

I like paint on canvas, but appreciate it less on walls. Unless it is spray paint and outdoors, but that is another topic. I prefer wooden walls and open beams. It makes things a bit bigger and a bit more drafty, but also smaller and homey all at the same time. Paint seems to only muddle or bore due to the fact that most walls are white or beige or someplace in between. No one likes the color beige, it's just fun to say. If you painted on walls as you painted on canvas, that would be something magical. Because paint on canvas is a doorway to the unknown. Imagine if all your walls were doorways, each leading someplace different. That would be lovely.

It's funny, your past builds you to who you are while still not defining you at all. Life is a developing picture. You can take it out and look at it one moment, then let it settle longer for a clearer image. It's almost the same, but it isn't at all. The past is like that. Who am I now is not who I was then, but it still made me who I am and is making me into who I'll be. I think that's a riddle, but I'm not sure. Riddles always seem so much more clever than I could ever be.

I find cliches to be boring and most love stories are cliches, but I find love stories to be wildly wonderful. I think it's because of the details. The big picture is what matters in general, but in a love story the big picture doesn't matter at all. You are not two people in a room full of people in a building in a city in a country on the earth, you are just two people. One entirely enraptured by the other, so ardently that nothing else is of any importance. And that is what makes them.

My preferred method of communication is "in-person," then blog. And maybe email. But the phone is too loud and text messages are too short and Twitter is for hashtags and Facebook is for self-absorption and I hear there are other methods, but I don't participate. Face to face is perfect. You can appreciate the person. The affect in their voice and the motions of their hands, the way their face contorts with emotion or remains still with apathy. You can use all 5 senses and know them the way we have forgotten to know people.

Do you think clouds get lonely? Those dark wisps drifting alone while cumulus collect together at the edge of the foothills. I think they do. Alienated because they're different, isolated drops of water wandering together, blown about by the wind. I wish I could hike up into those distant clouds and whisper into their very center how much they are appreciated, if only by me.

I'm watching Casablanca again, for the thousandth time. It's a coffee ring and a canvas, a riddle and a love story, honest in all 5-senses, a whisper into loveless clouds. There is fresh bread in the oven and a sweet little boy asleep in the canvas hammock hung from the ceiling, my husband is away at work and I miss him. Sam on the piano makes it all seem easier than it is. Idealism and romanticism spun into a web around my heart. I'm worried spring will never come, but I know that all things pass. Life is a constant complicated slur. But then, so am I.

The Christian Code of Conduct

As a little girl, I was always one of the boys. The older high school boys would play with and take care of me, they loved and accepted me for exactly who I was. They liked that I was willing to play with them in the mud and that I dressed myself in the most mismatched outfits. They adored that I was unafraid of skinned knees or gravel in my palms. And I grew up that way, one of the boys. Cared for as a little sister in Christ should be cared for. But the girls didn't see me. I was scolded for having dirt on my clothes or speaking what what was on my mind. It was subtle, but crushing. Especially as I grew up.

As I grew, I realized that there was some kind of secret Christian Code of Conduct that no one had ever told me about. As Christians, we were never supposed to admit when we were struggling - "Fake it till you make it!" was the unbearable catch phrase. We were never supposed to question God, He was God and His will was omni-this and omni-that. As girls, we weren't funny, but rather laughed at all the amusing things boys did. As young women, we needed to be presentable and kind and quiet and unassuming. And anyone who did not follow the very strict - but never talked about - Code, was condemned. Shunned, pushed out, made to seem unrighteous. A sinner without remorse.

If you ask any Christian about this Code, this set of unsaid expectations, they will deny it exists. But anyone who has every felt like an outsider once inside the doors of a church knows what I'm talking about. They all look so put together and make you feel like you should feel badly about yourself. Perhaps it's intentional, perhaps it isn't. But it is true, nonetheless. I would know. I am a Christian and I feel this way all the time. Much less now, but it still gets under your skin and pulls at the insecure bits of your self esteem. And I just want you to know? It's a sham.

First and foremost? We are all sinners. There is no one sin that is more toxic than the next and everyone is guilty. I am guilty, you are guilty, and the ones who act like they aren't? Are probably the most guilty of us all. Don't ever let anyone quote scripture at you in order to make you feel ashamed. It is one thing to hold people accountable and encourage good behaviour - It is another to shame them into following a set of rules you believe to be important. I am a Christian and I believe the words the Bible has for me. I also believe that there is some room for interpretation and a whole lot of room for grace and forgiveness and that the only person who truly commands the whole understanding of the Bible is God. That means I can theologize - but I have no idea who is getting into Heaven and who isn't. I don't get to judge or decide on other people's fates. I don't know peoples' hearts intimately enough to know what is in store for them after this life. And, honestly? I don't know what is in store for them either way! I can't imagine, I am too small and too human.

I digress.

This set of unknowable rules that is laid out? This code of conduct that no one will speak of? Makes me sad for the women of Christianity. It makes me sad because it hurts when people I want to consider friends make me feel like an outsider. It makes me sad because I don't feel the need to subject myself to the standards of this world in order to fit in. It makes me sad because I think they feel like they are correcting me into a "better" version of myself, when in reality they are just putting someone else down because they (I) are (am) different. I am a mom, a wife, and I love spending time cooking and cleaning and reading my Bible. But I also swear, use sarcasm endlessly, believe whole heartedly in sustainable living, laugh too much and too loudly, like dirt under my nails, and befriend the unholiest of humanity - if there is such a thing.

I am wrong a lot of the time and there are certainly things I need to improve upon. Vastly. I need to spend more time caring for the sick, the orphaned, the widowed. I need to spend more time with the homeless, the friendless, and the outcast. I need to spend more time reading my Bible and less time scrolling through Pinterest. I need to be more concerned with what I can be doing to take care of the Earth God gave me to walk upon. But I do not need to clean up my language - the people I want to spend more time with? Talk like me. And I do not need to wear a certain style of semi-professional clothing - the people I want to live next to? Have far less fancy clothing. I do not need to stop being sarcastic - the people I want to minister to? Know exactly what I mean. I do not need to be quieter - God has called me to be anything but! And I am not wrong about this.

It isn't that living by this secret Code of Conduct is bad. It isn't. But it also isn't necessary or even always possible for the rest of the world. I don't condemn these women for having a standard they live by, but I am upset by their expectation that I should do the same. There is only one person who determines the code which I follow, and He did not come in His Sunday best. He came in the middle of the night in the heart of the country in the middle of a stable. He spent his days as a homeless vagabond, wandering from town to town in order to love people. He hung out with lepers, thieves, fishermen, and countless other random people. He lived, died, and rose to love people. And that is the law I try and live by, the only rule worth following.

Scattered

My son, warm and snuggley in my arms as I try to type one handed, makes a noise that only Mark and I are meant to hear. The soft purr he makes only in our arms. Rory might not mind being handed about, but he knows when he is returned to us. At two months, he knows us. He has his flirty smile that he gives to people he recognizes, "aunts" and "uncles" and grandparents, but there is one he reserves for us. There is a recognition in his eyes that calms him when he looks at us. We are his comfort and his shelter and he rests beneath our wings.

This is what Christ would ask of us, that we look up from His hands, ever reaching to catch us as we fall, and recognize Him. That we reserve not just pieces of ourselves for Him, but all of us. That every action and reaction would be for Him, the good along with the bad - the easy things and the difficult ones. In the same way that my sweet little boy listens for my voice above the rest and looks to find me as he hears it, so God would have us listen and look for Him.

As overwhelmed as I become by the pain and suffering in this world, I know God. And I know that suffering builds character and creates empathy as well as opportunity. As humans, we listen to those who have experienced the pain we know, we look for others who can empathize more than sympathize. We seek that comfort and shelter that love provides. And that love is always Christ.

I know that I cannot save the world or even one soul, only God is capable of such things. But he can use me to accomplish them, I need only be willing. I must be open to whatever is in store for me; physically, mentally, and spiritually. I must be prepared to act according to God's plan for my life, as His hands, feet, and voice. I am called to such great things! So much greater than I am, but still I am called. It is not the same as your calling, we each must do something different in order to accomplish more.

Mark and I have discovered a secret. Still and quiet in the recesses of parenting, there comes a sweet knowledge of self sacrifice. The very thing I have been so eagerly seeking. When you become a parent, you must give up any inkling of selfishness. Because your child will cry and they will need you to be the best you can possibly be and you will not have time to be self-absorbed.

My self image has never been anything astounding, but since having Rory it has had to take a back seat. Because if I had my way, I would be self destructive on that front and that is not healthy and not something I am willing to put my son through. I cannot think about how much I would rather be sleeping at 4am when Rory is upset because he is cold and hungry, he must be my priority. I must die to my selfish desires in the same way the Christ would ask of me.

I don't believe you must become a parent in order to understand sacrifice, but I believe I understand it better now. It has created an entirely new perspective that I cannot deny and, in fact, must seek after will all of my being. My heart breaks for those who suffer in a way that is different from before, and I am ever learning. How I see the world and my place in it will never cease to shift and change because God is moving in me always.

This week the way I am helping the world is by raising my son and making him a priority in my life, following only my husband and my God. For he is precious and dear and grows more every day at an astonishing rate and I refuse to miss even one minute of this beautiful gift.

 

Rory the Activist

Wild

I am wild.

Wild like a hot sunrise after a lightning storm.

Wild like sweet pea vines.

Wild like jalapeños in raspberry jam.

I like it when there is dirt under my nails and pen ink scrawl on my body.

I like the splash of water that jumps up when I'm washing dishes.

I like the stubborn donkey's slow graze.

I pit my own cherries slowly and messily.

I seek the hot equator sun on my cheeks.

I crave dirt beneath my fingernails.

I am wild.

Wild like the breeze through broad leaf trees.

Wild like a thunderhead across the plain.

Wild like blackberry thorns.

I like it when my hair falls out of place.
I like swimming under an open sky.
I like discords and minors.
I fold over myself in strange yoga positions.
I drink water from the tap.
I desire quiet mornings and laughter filled nights.
I am wild.

I care not for plans,
I am whimsically sweet.
Enough to make your teeth hurt.
I write in cursive with ink covered hands
And read my books to life.
I sing to myself songs of nonsense
With wooden beads wrapped around my wrist.
My belly is swollen
With love, with life, with the future.
I flatten my hands against the floor
Unconcerned with any complications that may arise.
There is only now,
There is only today.
I sink my teeth into simplicity.
Forgotten and forsaken is tradition for innovation.
But is it always better?
Braid the two with a mind to live intentionally.

Living On Less

I am one of those people who talk a lot, but I also believe in talk should be backed up by actions. So here are some quick tips on how to live on less. It's better for you, your community, and the rest of the world. Ready?

STOP comparing yourself to others. Albert Einstein said, "Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by it's ability to climb a tree, it will live it's whole life believing it is stupid." The quote is applied to intelligence, but it could be anything: beauty, luxury, material items...

START keeping a list of things you're thankful for. And don't just write them down once, write each thing every time you happen upon it. This way of thinking can change your whole life. My short list today: Husband, Critter, friends (specifically on my heart: Jordy, Jenae, Kendall, Rachel, Becca, Nik, Eli & the triplets), early mornings, sunshine, green grass between my toes, sharpened pencils, good playlists, my certificate being in the mail, yoga, a bed with blankets, giving $20 of Safeway money, prayer, my job, hope, love, and my grandma's pickles.

FIND a purpose. Something you are passionate about, something that allows you to utilize your time, your talents, your testimony, and/or your treasure. Whether it's volunteering, doing work pro bono, sharing your story, or giving to those in need? It's important.

Figure out a budget. Do you know how much you make or spend? So many of us just check to see that our bank statement doesn't say zero and leave it at that. Calculate how much you make a month, which might vary if you work hourly or freelance, then work this math:

20-25% - Housing: rent/mortgage, taxes, insurance, interest, repairs...

20-25% - Food: groceries and meals purchased outside the home...

15-20% - Operating Expenses: electricity, fuel, telephone, water, laundry, house cleaning, yard work, autocare, auto insurance...

15% - Clothing: clothes, material for clothes, shoes, accessories...

10-15% - Advancement: School fees, tuition, books, lectures, medical or dental fees, prescriptions, recreation, vacation, contributions to charity...

10-15% - Savings: Savings, assets, life insurance...

Those numbers are obviously flexible. For instance, if you are a total foodie? You might spend 25% or more on food. If you are a shopaholic? You might need to put aside more than 15% for clothing. The important thing is to figure out your budget and stick to it. Once my husband and I sat down and did the math? We had no problem with our finances. This isn't crazy complicated stuff, just figure out the percentages and what things you want to do more/less of.

Downgrade. In a day and age where people are racing to the shelves to buy the latest such-and-such, we are in need of some back pedaling. Your cellphone; the new iPhone is pretty cool, but do you really need so many minutes, texts, and a data plan? You could wait until you got home to get on Facebook. Your computer; with all of the little options now available for those of us who only use computers for Microsoft Office and the internet, it's hard to imagine why you think you need anything larger unless you do serious photo, music, or graphic design editing. Your apartment; find something where you utilize all of the space in a healthy way instead of just acquiring stuff to fill it. Your car; I don't mean sell your beautiful new car to purchase a beater, but consider getting a car with better gas mileage rather than flash. Buy a car that is already a couple years old with low mileage, do research to find out which kinds of cars need more work done on them in the long run and which run themselves into the ground. Or, if you're located in a city, small town, or somewhere with excellent public transportation? You could ditch the car for the train, the bus, a bicycle, or even walking. If I wasn't pregnant, I'd consider a bike.

Count your pennies. I mean this quite literally. Pay in exact change when you can and keep a jar at home for the rest of your coins. Coinstar has "revolutionized" they way people look at coins, but it also takes a rather large percentage. Go down to your bank, ask the nice teller for coin rolls (they are free), and roll your own quarters. You will accumulate a full roll much faster than you think. Keep a stack and when you remember or have an extra minute to go into your bank, take them to the teller and he or she will gladly deposit them for you - without taking $0.09 a dollar or whatever Coinstar steals from you now.

Pay off your debt. I know, you hate to be told that, but it's true. A large corporate bank was informed that if they dropped the bottom 5% of loan holders, those who had defaulted on loans and had significant other debt, they would reduce the number of people who claim bankruptcy by something like 60%. They declined because that 5% are how they make almost 100% of their profit. Those people will continue to pay the minimum balance on an outrageous amount of debt until they die and then? Their children can be held responsible. Can't figure out how to break the cycle? Firstly, stop spending beyond your means. Chop up those credit cards and live on what you actually make. Numbers one and two should help you with that one. Secondly? Pay extra on your balance instead of splurging on something you may not need. Get someone to hold you accountable: a spouse, friend, family member. Can't handle plastic? Me neither. It's fake money. You slide the magic card next to the mystical computer screen and press "accept!" I have to function almost entirely in cash. Before I got married? I didn't have a bank account, I had a lock box. That might sound crazy to some of you, but I wasn't working much and lived on hourly wages. I had a Savings Account that to this day has $5.07, but no card. Now that I'm married and making a regular living? My husband and I share a bank account. But I keep cash in my wallet. Cash is real, it is tangible to me. I can see I have a $20 bill and I know exactly how to make it last for 2 weeks, no exaggeration. If plastic is something you love, but maybe doesn't love you back? You might want to consider a cash system.

Dine in. You probably hear this on a regular basis, but do you actually know how much more eating out costs? Do some research. Don't have time to come home and create a nice home cooked meal? Brown bag it, sucker. A deli sandwich costs cents to make and will probably be chalk full of all the sandwich toppers you love, instead of half-assed. Make your complicated Starbucks drink at home, purchasing a cheap espresso machine can pay for itself in less than a month, assuming you only have caffeine once every other day. Invest in that.

Learn more about your groceries. I am a fruit addict, and in December? Strawberries can cost as much as $8.99 a pound. That's ridiculous. So purchase your fruits and veggies in season, because that adds up quickly. Then teach yourself to can/jar and freeze. Jarred nectarines are not as good as fresh ones, but they are better than none. It's actually really easy and you can make probably 100+ jars in an afternoon of all your favorite produce (assuming you have the shelf space for that, I do not). Make a meal plan. It doesn't have to be specific, "Here is what I'm eating Monday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!" I know I don't function like that. Just make a general list: Here are 7 breakfasts, 7 lunches, and 7 dinners I want to make this week. And if you can have them tie into each other or do leftovers, great. Check your cupboards and fridge for what you already have and make a list of what you'll need to accomplish those 21 meals. Then shop from it. Adjust as you go. Oh and coupon. From your newspaper or online, shop the sales. It's a learning process, don't let yourself get overwhelmed. There are hundreds of blogs entirely for this purpose - utilize them.

Befriend thrift stores. Goodwill might seem tacky to you, but I've purchased a pair of True Religion jeans with the tags still on for $7.00. Granted, that was an awesome find, but assuming you are that picky? There are hundreds of designer boutiques that will only sell high quality label brands. And if you're not that picky? You couldn't ask for a better venue for shopping. Make sure you're also purchasing clothing out of season. Buy all your winter gear after it goes on sale in the Spring or Summer, get your swimsuit in November. Savings, savings, savings. There is a thrift store just down the hill from where I live that has "half-off Saturdays" which makes their already low prices of $1-7 impossible to beat. Plus, all the mocking of ridiculous items for sale in second hand stores is worth the trip in itself.

Plan for fun time. That's what you wanted to hear! And it's important. My husband and I set aside $50 a month for "date night." Maybe that means we get one ridiculously extravagant date or several little dates. If we don't use all the money one month? It rolls over. This month we spent our date night money on books at Barns & Noble and Thai food. Both were well worth the money. If you have money specifically for the fun things you want to do, odds are you'll stick with that amount rather than raiding your bank account every time you need to go shopping or whatever your vice.

Give. Trust me when I say, you have too much stuff. Get rid of it. Whether by Goodwill or a garage sale, you do not need your life to be so cluttered with material things. I'm not asking you to live on $2 a day, I'm just saying that you should stop spending frivolously on things you don't need when there are people who do need what you take for granted. Spend your money that way. No one has ever said "I regret giving a child an education." Or "I wish I hadn't sent money to that family so they could purchase a goat and create an income." Or "I hate the fact that I helped fund a well to be built so people in that community could have good water." No one. Do your research, find a cause you can get behind, support it. Maybe it's financial, but maybe it's with your time volunteering with struggling students. It will boost your self value as well as the worth of someone else.

Some more food for thought:

I get that I am on a "save the world" kick, but bear with me, dear reader. I am perfectly aware I will never save the world, but that doesn't mean I should be content in doing nothing. It doesn't mean I can't do something. It doesn't mean I can't encourage others (you) to do something as well. This week I went for a walk in a neighborhood that has gated culdesacs and 12ft fake rock fountains outside false brick 8 bedroom homes at the suggestion of a friend. Tell me the person living inside that home deserves those things while children die of HIV because someone else made a poor decision and the medicine is not available to them. Then tell me it's okay that we throw away (not recycle) 26 billion water bottles as a nation when our tap water is of the same or better quality while mere millions of people drink polluted water everyday and many die because of it. Tell me I deserve to have gone out for lunch today when there are children who won't eat this week.

I want to be clear that I do not believe everyone is called to live in the dirt on the worlds minimum wage. I don't even mean to guilt trip you, I really don't. I just believe so strongly in this, that we should all be equals on this earth and when there are those who have so much less than we do? We should help them. It doesn't have to be huge or life altering, but it can be. It doesn't have to rearrange your life, but it might. It can be so simple; living green or remembering to smile at everyone you see today or spending $25 one time to buy 2 chickens for a family in Southeast Asia or sponsor a child to go to school in Uganda... the possibilities are endless. Need some ideas? I've got a million. Feel free to ask.

There are plenty more ways to save money, but most of them start with scaling back from the consumer driven America we live in. Recognize your blessings and be satisfied, the first three tips are by far the most important.

Hallelu

Driving home from a wonderful day in Seattle with Folk Life and friends, my handsome husband posed a question that I don't really remember. Something about when I stopped doing drugs and why. Which led me looking at the big picture of my life for the thousandth time and realizing once again how amazing it is. Not that my life in itself is amazing, just that the story is amazing. You can see God moving in my life before I ever realized it, but whether or not you believe? It's a wonderful coincidence.

January of 2009, after dropping out of University and spending 6 months basically soaking my liver and brain in illegal substances, a friend texted me telling me how much she missed Washington and all of us up here. My response was to quit my both my jobs and drive 19 hours straight through the night to Riverside California. My dear friend, Jade, was attending California Baptist University. A private Christian university, things like Chapel and worship were required of students. I was sleeping on Jade's floor so I just tagged along for two weeks. I grew up in the church (little c for little minds), but God and I hadn't spoken in awhile. I left the church, assuming that included God. I was mistaken. Everyone commented on what an amazing friend I was to have driven all the way down to California for Jade, but I think that time saved my life. I just reassured Jade that she was loved and belonged in California, staying at Cal Baptist was the start of my life doing a 180. I returned home to the grey knowing I wanted something different for my life. But without the recreational substance abuse, I was forced to turn to the prescribed brands. I had anxiety attacks that would put me in a small dark corner and felt jittery all the time, most likely because my diet consisted of caffeine and medication. I rode the bus into Seattle for work and read my Bible for the first time in a long time. I remember someone asking me if I went to church and I adamantly explained that I didn't approve of church, I was just trying to figure out where/why/how all of this (Bible) fit into my life. She smiled at me. Bus riders into Seattle from Maple Valley get to know each other pretty well, so eventually we all began to have pretty interesting conversations about God, religion, church... I had a friend die that Spring. We had always planned extravagant trips and before he died he had gone on a tour of South America. "You have to go to Peru, Malia," he told me. That same week he died, I bought a plane ticket for September. As the Summer progressed, my anxiety and myriad of other mental health issues intensified. The two or so weeks before I got on a plane, I spent most of my days not being able to get out of bed. Staring at the ceiling and journaling nonsense, not eating or sleeping. I was a wreck. My mother would tell me later that when she dropped me at the airport, she thought she would never see me alive again. But I got on a plane, slept in an airport and got on my connecting flight to South America.

That first night in a hostel in Lima, I flushed all my medication. I couldn't tell you why I did it, I just didn't want to be a zombie any longer. I got on a 24 hour bus to Cusco and fell in love the moment I awoke in the middle of the Andes. Foreign grey moonscape to lush Amazonian jungle to fields of golden grass high above the clouds. I thought I was dying, "This is what Heaven looks like," I remember thinking as the sun lit up the side of the mountain to a bright glow. Maybe I was dying, because I turned into an entirely new person. In Cusco I met some young men who would change my life. The tall perfect arian and fun loving, Rolf from Denmark. Working for the travel industry, he came to Cusco in 2005 on holiday and just never left. The awkward but excellent with the ladies and dearling friend, Christian from Oxford. Traveling through South America, the US, and Asia on gap year after inventing some kind of new laundry detergent, he had stayed in Cusco longer than expected because he fell in love with it. Jesus, the Argentine graphic designer with strange sleeping hours and a love of matte and fernet with Coke from Cordoba. I lived with these three and really became who I wanted to be. I spent my days wandering the shops and streets, eventually volunteering at a school house in San Mateo, a "suburb" of Cusco if you will... if no running water and crumbling adobe buildings qualify as "suburbs." My nights were spent salsa dancing and bar hopping with the occasional Cumbia club. Then I met Tao. Tall, dark, and handsome Australian passing through Cusco on his tour of the world and I fell in love. My time in Cusco coming to an end, he convinced me to join him in New York City. I made it happen. We spent 2 weeks in blissful December joy on the island of Manhattan before he had to fly to London and I went to live in Washington DC with relatives. I combed craigslist and eventually happened upon a job as an au pair in San Miniato, Italy to the cutest triplets in the world. My life in Italy was mostly babies and adventures all over Italy with them. Eventually we went to Vermont for the Summer and I picked up my Bible again. My life was just one big coincidence after another. At the end of that Summer, I knew what I needed to do: I had to go home. I took the train across the country, stopping various places but primarily in Chicago to visit my little brother, Zach, at North Park University, then in Spokane to reconnect with a dear friend, and Soap Lake to spend time with my God Parents.

Finally I arrived home. The job market being what it was, I threw myself into volunteer work at two different churches and the community. It wasn't long before we got the call about Zach, in the hospital struggling to make it. "Touch and go," were the dreaded words. My parents went and I stayed with my baby brother Alika. This is why I was called home. Two weeks went by with Alex and I making life work on our own when my paternal grandmother passed away. My dad flew to Seattle and all three of us flew out to attend the funeral. When we returned home, all 5 of us were living under the same roof again. Zachary was recovering, slowly but surely. Alex was also recovering, from a variety of other things. I spent my time volunteering and making an odd dollar here and there through my dear friend, Wendee, at Versatile Designs. I received several offers to get out of the country, but I declined them all. Despite my empty wallet and living at home again, I knew I was doing the right thing. I went on a mission trip to Mexico by sheer grace, as I wasn't planning on going (due to lack of funds) and was reintroduced to the man who has become the love of my life. I got a paid internship and was offered a position as an Administrative Assistant for the Summer. I wasn't sure where either would leave me come September, but I was determined that this was the right path for me. I got engaged in August and in September found out my job at our Church Office could be a permanent one if I wanted it. Married in November, we found out I was pregnant in late December, and the Church offered me more hours for 2012... and I am happy. Life has it's ups and downs, but there is never a moment when I am dissatisfied. My life isn't a fairytale, but it's close enough for me.

I could have spent four years at University. I could have continued to work 2 jobs and live in a little apartment. I could have stayed abroad having adventures. I could have left the country again. I could have, I could have, I could have. And I didn't. I followed my heart and the thousands of coincidences that make up my life. But I don't believe in coincidence, I believe in God. And it's okay if you don't! I just can't seem to shake it. Now we are looking at going abroad to do mission work and everyone thinks we're out of our heads. If there's one thing I've learned? It's that people thinking I'm making an irrational decision probably means I'm headed in the right direction. Why do you need to approve of what I am doing and where I'm going? And why do you imagine you have that right? Live your life and I will do the same. If that isn't good enough for you, well, that's too bad...

Loving A Wild Thing

Beauty isn't in the eye of the beholder, it's everywhere. It just takes someone to behold it. Sometimes I dream in black and white, other times in color, but I think my favorite is when I dream and everything is tinted green. Walls, flooring, drapes, furniture, even the light spectrum themed forest. People talk about rose colored glasses, but I only see in shades of green. It brings me absolute, consuming joy. I've been weird lately, thinking a lot about the two/three years or so I spent pretty much functioning alone. I had friends, but no one really close to me. I was busy travelling, figuring out who I was, where I was going. I kept in touch with people, but intamacy was somewhat absent from the world I created. I had journals and blogging, I read books and thought up intricate plans for whatever was next, I listened to Putumayo and spoke in languages I only had a minor grasp on. It was a beautifully lonely time for me. I almost miss it, but then I realize that isn't what I miss. What I miss is embracing that loneliness with warmth and affection. Being alone takes a lot of work and even more work to enjoy it without letting it drag you into dark places. After some serious work? I accomplished living in the contentment of being lonely. Spending quite a bit of time on my own in the evenings these days means that I am facing that loneliness I once pressed into happily with an awkward sort of side hug. The kind you are supposed to give to people it's "inappropriate" to hug full frontally (which, for the record, a side hug is not any "less appropriate" - just more awkward). I'm working on making it more natural, slowly but surely... Shifting gears. I? Do not have gestational diabetes! What. Up. After a month of fretting about it and four days of torturing myself with the possibilities, there is nothing much wrong with me - aside from the usual nuerosis. I do have Moon River and the fire escape scene from Breakfast at Tiffany's playing over and over again in my head (I assume that if you don't know what I'm talking about you will run to the DVD store and purchase a copy to watch or http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7SI7N22k_A - but I'm disappointed either way that you didn't already know). I love that scene. It's the only time Audrey Hepburn ever sings for herself in a film. Happy sigh. Back to baby related things, our little one continues to kick and move. We won't hear his/her heartbeat again until June something, but after that? We will probably be visiting every two weeks instead of once a month. I'm not terribly excited about the next visit. They will just weigh me (which is depressing) and then take my heart rate (which couldn't be better) and finally let me hear little creature's heart (which is the only fun part and only lasts one minute). Other than that, they will ask me questions to which I will give near meaningless answers and ask if I have anything to ask them. Mark will probably jump in at that point with his myriad of worries and woes, which I'm grateful for. I can never think of anything to tell or ask a doctor. I always forget when I am sitting there with those high ceilings and blah colored walls with diagrams of my insides plastered to the doors and cabinets. I can only think about how I want to hear the heartbeat and go home. Mark is better at remembering every complaint or thought I've had about baby and baby related things over the last month. I suppose that's why I married him. I'm meant to be writing more, but I'm never sure what to write about these days. The iPad is too bright and I have too many thoughts running through my head, the baby is kicking and I would rather write with a pen... I'm too distracted. All the time. By everything. It's useless to try and do anything with me these days. Some yoga, old movies, and foreign music. Maybe Criminal Minds and getting pen all over my hands, some books, some sodoku, some cooking and cleaning... I'm kind of just floating on through. It's nice enough, but I do wish I could focus on one thing or another. Pregnancy brain is real. Now I'm too distracted to even finish, oh well. I think I'll watch Breakfast at Tiffany's instead. Bye, Fred Baby.

Spoken

i am not concerned with pattern

not worried about formality

i am unsure of where this is

but i know exactly i am

i'd rob you of your discontentment

and i would murder injustice

i would steal pain from you

and i'd slay oppression

i'd avenge your heartbreak

and i would kill malfeasance

this is my vendetta against evil

i have but one weapon

my fists are useless

and sharp edges can only cut the physical

bullets cannot pierce what is not corpreal

hope joy and love

these things cannot be destroyed

except by your own allowance

within you

is the greatest capacity for good

you are a fortress

in which goodness flourishes

if only you would care for it well

there is glory of the likes you have never seen
blossoming and unfolding
blushing we turn from it
embarrassed due to our undeserving
flustered and frustrated we look away
not seeing
not believing
running from the only thing worth running towards
burn us up
with the ashes they will paint a new world
a better world
don't wait for it
make it

Fairytale Ending

Fairytale endings are all they are cracked up to be, but not because anything ends. Or perhaps it is. Mostly it's that things begin. A life you imagined to be perfect, but isn't. It's something better, something real. There was a hidden room, behind that bookshelf, wasn't it? I was never really sure. Maybe I am still there.

The imagination is a funny thing. It makes everything better. And worse. Depending on the impending moment. Those are the people you might expect to be there, in your dreams. This is a fantasy fairytale. Or is it? Confusing is the least of my problems at this point. There was a beautiful crown. A tiara that sat upon my head. I gave it away, but only because it wouldn't burn like the rest of it. Who would have ever thought I could be a princess?

Growing from a glass jar, all I have ever needed is just a little water and sunlight. I survive quite well in this environment of cold frost and low fog. Or perhaps I don't. I can't seem to remember. There is something beautiful in the decomposition between the roots. It makes everything healthier, but it shouldn't. Then again.

Glass walls and streaming attentions, I feel a little more than whelmed. This is French vocabulary, I never learned any German. It wasn't really my thing. But then, did I ever really have a thing? I am waiting for the next adventure, but maybe I need to find it. There in a wardrobe perhaps or the Spine, a letter from a magical place or in a quest to dispose of a ring. There in Paris, in Netherfield, Avonlea, London, Seville, Rotterdam, the Black Forest, Heaven or Hell. Whichever is most real to me in the moment.

I close my eyes and reach my arms out in front of me. Fingers stretching, cold in the winter air. I can feel the mist settling around me as I take a step forward. A scarf finds itself wrapped around my eyes and I take another step. It isn't dark beneath the blindfold, I am not afraid. The grass is frost laden and my bare toes melt it blade by blade until they are as frozen as the ground beneath them. My hands are still out before me, but I am moving fast now. Running. Searching.

There are warm arms that always catch me. It doesn't matter where I am or where I am going. There are always there. And I know the chest that my head is cradled against. This is home. Not a house or a building. Not a bed or a sofa. Not material possessions, not things. This. This is where I belong. Always. This is my fairytale ending. Beginning.

Never Nother

I'm dressed up on the sofa. Right over left, red high heels. With lashes that slay but nowhere to go. And I could belong to the night. My heart isn't made of muscle and I don't bleed red. Hands covered in black with only fingers showing. These are the finer things in life.

Do you remember the words you spoke to me? Because I don't. Never one for auditory, it's just a silent film ending in a cigarette burn. Dissolving the film with a quick lick of fire. Then the projector. And eventually the theatre. Everything up in flames.

This is the result of slight inebriation. Nothing more and nothing less than that absolute perfect honesty. Where do you live? Not where do you sleep, but where do you live? This is life unfiltered, tin barrels and all. Embarrassment was never a question, more of a statement. I deserve nothing and will refuse nothing. A cheap scapegoat for a real issue.

Television shows are shot from such an angle that everything seems beautiful. I've got this guilded life and excuses without truth or reality. I am broken against rocks in rivers running far and fast. There was a house with bamboo and it makes my heart feel safe. There was a house with rounded edges and it makes my heart feel safe. I am hidden away from all that's near.

This could compromise me forever. I am fighting the stock per volume and all I can muster is a head ache. This is where heroes are made. This is where normal people fall prey to those around them they deem to be special. I hate the word. I find it in the corner of the bedroom, beneath the edge of the bed, further than the sheet dare to creep beneath. It's quiet and lonely but surviving. Surviving so still.

There's nothing more to say except the heartbreak. That painful and confusing heartbreak. I have nothing to say to everyone surrounding me and the more people to join the fray the more alone I feel. There isn't anything and I can't seem to find the connection, rainbow or otherwise, it escapes me. Everything escapes. This is where my story ends.

But there is always another beginning.

Time Passing

Charcoal dusting my hands, toffee colored rubber flakes covering a smudged page. We don't need erasers, not really. Just an imagination. It's slow, Italian. I miss that hillside. I am painted with pumpkin. That dark orange that only Autumn brings. Foolish, I am foolish. The color teal dissolved by stomach acid. Suddenly I am sharp again.

Shake and hustle. Small tremors at first, then it builds. Sip this slowly. Is this the only song I love or do we ever really change? The earth is just a circle with corners. I am in a vintage film strip. Breaking bread in my niche little house and the sheet is pulled tight across the bed. No time to fiddle, only violin and cello. The rosin smeared across her lips as well as her strings. I never had the talent.

Solid ivory sullied with finger prints. It's a clever sort of wood, harder than most, polished. The Captain's cap falls over his eyes as he slumps comfortably into the chair, feet upon the wheel. Complete control. You have only a moment to throw distain in his general direction as you lose you last meal into the ocean. What had been precious only a few short hours ago, now refuse among the waves. Fish food.

It's cold but the rain is nice. Plink lightly against the metal. It's beautifully painful. The light purple with white crayon over the edge. This is Hallelujah. Singe the edge of the paper and spread the ash. Red fire is anything but hot. Beams caved in over broken hearts. Defrost and pressurize. Standing in all blue, with white underneath. Is there another option?

Screening the scene with a quick glance. Permanent ink dripping through the skin. Chainlink and walls I don't recognize. I could wait forever, but that would be a lie. What time is it really. I'll tuck it away beneath the pillow and pray that that soft plushy surface is enough to protect my dreams. Pull another drag of that fresh air through that carrot treated filter. My truth is as real as I need it to be.

Open my eyes and witness broken limbs stretching further than they should. Hope never fails, but it can flail. I know absolutely nothing. A child, with never-ending curiosity and never-ending ignorance, sometimes arrogance. I am anything but deserving.

Mercy doesn't care who you've been. Grace doesn't care what you've done. Hope doesn't care where you've gone. Faith doesn't care when you lost it. Love doesn't care why you've let it go. Somethings are true, whether you believe them or not. And the more ridiculous the story? The more likely it is.

This is not a can of soup, this is a permanence beyond my comprehension of the word. Forever is an awfully long time. Today I am present. I couldn't tell you how or why, but I am here. Standing with both feet firmly on the group and both hands stretched open toward the sky. Today is! Today is.

Move Like

don't

just

stand

there

move like

printed on white paper

offwhite, really

no formalities here

the black is almost offsetting

pressed there against the white

offwhite

they are letters without form

deformed

not understood by any mind

but spoken by every tongue in every nation in all the earth

there is a gall

in all that black achieves

despite its circumstances

or perhaps because of

between the lines

and even over the top of them

told what to do only

by time without a clock and keys without doors

single, double, triple

free from the patterns of the mundane

demonstrating a command

a comprehension

creating anew

rest

effect affect

ingredients

marrow

bone

nerve and vein

organ

muscle tissue

greasy molecules reacting to uv radiation

blue and white woven

gene - jean

rayon and cotton

the percentage matters

color patterned

bounce sheets

rubber soul

ink

grey matter

gray

synaps and react

electric

no need for an outlet

the possibilities could break the scale

break

broken

vintage sunlight

8 minutes old

and today

that is far too long

sugar

sweetheart

dearling

by any other name

it just wouldn't be the same

does each word belong to you

or just disolve in your mouth

candy

ivy honey sweet

dripping onto the page

dark like ink

first learn the rules

so you can manipulate them to serve you

we live like this

the easy way out

stand up

marble statuesque

stoic

now move like

And We'll Disappear

This. Won't. Make. Sense.

This is where the roses live.

And if I had one sleeve, I'd be happier than I would with two.

Photographs can document far more than you mean them to.

Sugar sugar.

Tell me, when did you know for sure?

The bridge is across more than just the expanse.

The outcome is obvious, it's the journey you have to consider.

Cool like cream, smooth like ice.

Which day would you like to know best, I've got one for each.

I'll write code for my life and rattle it out like a machine. Machine.

The breakdown of the breakdown - simple.

Things fall, together.

And here now.

I'm done looking, the picture frame isn't empty here. I don't need a mirror when the reflection is apparent. There's nothing more to say besides, hm!