Tuesday, February 26, 2008

. non ! Rien de rien .

someone this morning at coffee asked me if i regretted a certain decision i had made just weeks ago.
i sat back in my seat and thought for a moment...these are my thoughts
Regret is merely a decision that probably wasn't the best at the time. Everything we do comes from who we are, what we believe, what we've been thought and where we are going. It is the very soul of us. Humans have the basic knowledge of what's right and wrong thanks to Mr&Mrs Adam and Eve; it is indented within our DNA and we have the responsibility to make the best choice possible. However, we are human. We screw it up from time to time. But I know that every single event in my life have built up the layers of who I am today. I can have compassion because I needed compassion. I am able to show love because I needed love. Empathy. Understanding. Consideration. Wisdom. Mercy. Having stood where I have I am now able to extrude only what has so graciously been given to me. I am who I am because I've been where I've been. Do I regret that? Not for one second. I was created with a plan and purpose. Knitted together with hands that created the world. His mercies are new everyday and He loves me regardless.
no regrets.

Friday, February 22, 2008

. mosaics and red walls .

You know that verse in the Bible that says, "There is nothing new under the sun"...?Well, it bothers me. And every day, and with every attempt at creating and immagining, I am bothered because as much as I know that I am capable of the extraordinary...anything that I could dream up has already been done.
This does not bode well with me.
And what's more, the deeper I get into the study of the human psyche, I am finding over and over that even our most complex and personal emotions are not so unique. They are the product of programming...they are shared with millions of other humans...they are patterns. Common and repetetive.
I set off on this journey because I wanted to discover newness. Not just in society, but also in myself. There is nothing more disheartening than realizing "new" does not exist.
If that statement were found anywhere else besides the Bible, I would undoubtebly argue it to the death. Somewhere deap inside of me, I still believe that I can find a way to be groundbreaking. I just can't stop believing.
To think, there is no new note to play.
No new chord progression. No new story line or idealogy.
I J U S T C A N ' T B E L I E V E I T.
And I also can't let it stop me from dreaming or trying.
I made a list last night.
It was a list of adjectives.
Advectives that I wished would be said about me.
There were 50. After I wrote it, I stared at it for 20 minutes. Just stared. Thought. Paniced. Stared.
How will I ever achieve this?
And what's more, who do I know who has achieved this.
Who do I want to be like?
I don't know. I don't know anyone that embodies what I aspire to be.
Sometimes I question my sanity. How could one possibly be so many different and conflicting people?
I am a free spirit. I am an aritst. I am born of the sea.
I want to be a mother and a wife.
I am a diplomat. An ambassador. A humanitarian.
An explorer. A journier.
I am a writer, a poet, and a musician.
A scholar. A socialite. A sea creature.
A want to be an innovator. A forerunner. A magician.
I am "Penny Lane."I am Queen Elizabeth.
I stare at the jumble of pieces and try desperatly to make them fit neatly into the puzzle marked "life". And at times I wonder if there is something wrong with me. Perhaps, in my attempt to adapt into so many new enviornments, I have lost the clear stamp of who I am.
Clarity. What I would give for clarity.
And then I remind myself. I am who HE says that I am. And what's more, He knew exactly what he was doing when he formed me before the foundation of the earth.
So maybe, just maybe, He knew what he was doing when he chose to create a mosaic instead of painting a red wall. And that is enough for me.
But I am not enough.
And alone, I would never be able to put the puzzle together.
I've tried, and it is just too frustrating.I am too blind.
So I grab hold of his robe.
"If I can touch him, I will be healed"
If I trust in the Lord and the power of his might, He will direct my path.Put me in oder.
Speak to my bones.
Repair the holes.
That the world might know your power.
That I might be used to bring peace on earth.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

. paix sur terre .

From where I sit, the world is at peace.
Everything is quiet.
Too quiet.

So I close my eyes and tell my mind to journey somewhere else, somewhere far from here.
I open my eyes and bursts of light flash before me. Screaming children, heat, debris, and blood.
Im not yet sure where this isbut its terrifying. Soldiers, libertines, gun shots, dust in my eyes. Israel. Ive been here before. Its happening right now, violent war, and all the while, I am in my room thinking to my self, its oh so quiet.
I shut my eyes in fear and tell my mind to try something else. Something lessfrightening.

Again, I open them to bright, blinding light. This time, there are no bombs, only swarms of bugs and a burning sun and the smell of feces. I see a baby lying on a pile of grass, stomach swollen and face covered in flies. Youve probably seen something similar on a Feed the Children Commercial. But trust me, this is a vision too graphic for TV. Inside a mud hut, a mother lies sleeping, or so one would think. But if you look closer, you would notice that she is not breathing. She has been dead for days, rotting in the heat after a long a painful fight with AIDS. Her village has abandoned her, and her child is alone, but unaware. He will die within the weekhe simply cant survive the sun and starvation. We are in Zambia, and I feel as helpless as the dying child. Im too far to reach him.

Im not sure I can keep up this game. It hurts too much.
But I cant help myself.
Take me somewhere else. Somewhere colder.

Snow falls on the top of my head and instantly I am chilled to the bone. Cobble stone roads and posters of naked women are everywhere. Ahhh, Moscow. How I have dreaded my return to you. I look around at the furry hated citizens and glance at the magnificent architecture. It is quite beautiful. Then I see her, a little girl on the sidewalk. I watch her. I watch her waiting. Then it happens. I watch her walk up to a stranger, and proposition him. He looks pleased. He looks like hes 50. He takes her under his arm and walks her to a nearby cab. They ride off to his flat and I cringe at the thought of what that child is about to go through. She might be 10 years old, or she might be 16its really too hard to tell anymore. But she needs the money. She has to eat. If she doesnt take this job, shell spend the next few days sniffing glue to curb the hunger pains. She might be 10 years old.

Enough. Im fighting back anger now, and for good reason. I am mad at the destruction and the disease and the poverty and the perversion. I am angry because I want to fix it all with the wave of my hand. I want to run to the girl in Moscow and offer her a place to live and be safe. I want to carry the dying infant to my home and nurture him back to health. I want to name him.

There is too much to be done, and Im tucked away in my safe and peaceful room in Australia. My 60000 sq. ft. room that a family of 10 could live in. Its disheartening, and yet I have hope. As difficult as it seems, I know that my God is able to do above and beyond what I ask and dream. He gives grace to the humble, he healed the sick and fed the poor, and he asks me to do the same.

We are, as a culture, overfed and overindulged. As Christians, we spend most of our time quibbling over doctrine, theory and power. That is not Christianity, and I will not be a part of it.

{The God I live for gave us two primary commandments}
1. Love Him with all of my heart, mind, soul, and strength.
2. Love my neighbor as myself.

And I watch the circus around me, a parade of the self-seeking and self-absorbed.
And I think, God, save me from myself.
If I have all the riches of the world and all the praise of man, but have not love.I am nothing.
And as cliché as it sounds, I am certain that Love, and only Love, will save us.

I know too much,
Their blood is on my hands.