B E L O N G :: Dancing With Wildflowers

I choose to not dream of "what ifs" but of actual possibilities.

Living with the knowledge and understanding that my life is twined together with others, helps me dream real and completely conscious. As friends develop and change, I desire them to grow. I hope and pray they are brave enough to belong first to their creator. That is where lasting growth and healthy belonging begins. 

When we distort the creators character, we change our perception of pure love. We become similar to a bee trapped under a cup turned upside down. Our attempts to be free are fleeting and abruptly halted, slamming against the ceiling. Only when we choose to exist in the pure love offered at the beginning, will we become a bee, dancing with wildflowers. I dream of being fully free, belonging because I am living how the creator intended me to live.

I believe a lot of people live their whole life under a cup turned upside down. Their desire to belong has become skewed, and distorted. They are looking slightly bent at their surroundings, making their horizontal focus more important than their vertical understanding. The longer they find belonging within their surrounding social meter without a truer, and clearer connection to the creators pure love, they come to settle for a secondary belonging. Their dreams become "what ifs" rather than actual possibilities.

When we belong first and wholly to our creator, the expanse of belonging is uncontainable. Belong to your creator because you were designed to be his. Belonging is not an action or pursuit, it is an acceptance of pure love, intended for you since the beginning.

Dance with the wildflowers in the breeze. Belong.

New Day.

"With the new day comes 

new strength and new thoughts."

Eleanor Roosevelt

L I V E :: always in the moment.

"Just as the wave cannot exist for itself, 

but is ever a part of the heaving 

surface of the ocean, 

so must I never live my life for itself, 

but always in the experience 

which is going on around me." 

-Albert Schweitzer

G O O D friday :: Remember the Lions Roar

This is one of my favorite scenes from CS Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia. It is good to remember that on this day there was weeping and silence, but it is even more important to remember the roar.

The rising of the sun had made everything look so different - all colours and shadows were changed that for a moment they didn't see the important thing. Then they did. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan...

"Who's done it?" cried Susan. "What does it mean? Is it magic?"

"Yes!" said a great voice behind their backs. "It is more magic." They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.

"Oh, Aslan!" cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad.

"Aren't you dead then, dear Aslan?" said Lucy.

"Not now," said Aslan...

"But what does it all mean?" asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer.

"It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know: Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitors stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards..."

"And now," said Aslan presently, "to business. I feel I am going to roar. You had better put your fingers in your ears."

And they did. And Aslan stood up and when he opened his mouth to roar his face became so terrible that they did not dare to look at it. And they saw all the trees in front of him bend before the blast of his roaring as grass bends in a meadow before the wind.

N O R M A L :: what my eyes see.

i see the world through my normal lens. 

the light from the wall of windows glows

through plastic empty grinders.

the new green of spring bounces from limbs.

pale pink bandana hold hair back 

while bangs bounce to the beat.

thrift shirt tees never go out

especially if they are kelly on a kind human.

well cut wood table leaves lines to wonder.

hanging lights add delicate in contrast

to the rugged wood roof accents.

shadows dance against trunks

light bows and joins the wind.

i take in the normal world i see and breathe.

hear the music :: L I S T E N

the sun did not shine through the branches with beams of light. it filled the backdrop with a glow of shimmering gold, like the dust left settling in the sifter of some lucky miner.

the green nettles, leaves, and ferns did not pop from the contrasting red trunks of the towering redwoods. they spread a softer hue of dampened growth, like the sea kelp of an ocean basin after a sun full day.

the sound of the forest did not hum with life rhythms from all the energy of nature colliding. it played a softer tone, deaf to the human ear, but music to the listener.

i heard a song while i walked along.

man is the stone

water glides seamlessly over the rock bottom creek. 

stones standing still create ripples from the passing flow.

light dances off sky reflections as liquid rolls pass.

man watches as energy envelops stillness

motionlessly standing.

questioning what can be taken from the images casted. 

numbness presents chills to limbs

sensation unnoticed.

questions without answers

wonder remains

man is the stone.