There's a bible verse that I'm thinking of which relates to this (about not worrying but enjoying food and drink and being merry in the life of our Lord), but that came to me now rather than when I originally began this post in my head before I had the chance to sit down and leave it here.
I want to live my life in a way so that I feel like I am truly enjoying it.
Period.
This is such an easy statement to tell yourself. Oh, I enjoy life!
No, really, do you?
(P.S. I have realized since moving to North Dakota that adding "no" at the beginning of a sentence is a Wisconsin thing-- who know?!)
I don't want to become someone who can only see my struggles.
I don't want to become someone who shuts down because of the stress that I'm under.
I don't want to become someone who sits passively in a class, meeting, the elements which fill our day and make up our life and allow it to pass by me.
I don't want to live my life worrying.
I don't want to live my life unspoken.
And I don't want to live my live overspoken.
I want to be able to ask myself: "Why am I here, why am I doing what I'm doing?" And in the end I want to be okay with what it is I find myself doing at any given moment.
I want to take in the moments around me, to feel, in this particular instance, the tiredness below my eyes, through my neck and shoulders, the stomach ache which is the flu (I think?) working its way out of my system, a slight headache, the train blowing its whistle outside my window, my dear guitar calling my name, the comfort of my bed below me and how much I love jeans that fit just the way I like them to.
I want to live in a way so that if I do find myself walking into a room saying to myself, 'I don't really want to be here', that I allow the feeling to flow over me and then release it. I want to let myself relax in those settings and allow myself to be opened up to what ever might unfold before me.
I want to recognize when I am letting someone else help me to do anything other than what I have listed here.
When I'm in a moment, I want to experience it. I want to let everything else fall away. Things like death, tragedy and trial teach you these things. I want to thank God for giving me and then guiding me through those things so that I am now sitting here, pouring out just how much I want to enjoy what I have. Because we have so much with this life that we have been given.
I want to live it.
Lets live it.
Will you come now and live it with me?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Little poem referenced in past post
A man bites his thumb
after a day of maintaining
the Hidden Curriculum.
The prof. scrawls across
the board a crazed
madness. And in my
desired stuper, I find
myself unsure of
whether his madness is
the lecture of our course
or the gibberish twitching
in my dreaming
head.
Can anyone guess what class I wrote this in? haha :) You never know when your muse will hover over you, asking you to write.
I left my last entry without sharing what a writers notebook is (for anyone who may not know-- which also assumes that someone reads theses posts, and of which I have no idea). A writers notebook is simply a place to jot things down daily as you notice them. Sometimes, as in the instance of the little poem above, a full verse or set of verses or prose, etc., come pouring on out of you and onto the paper. But most times, for me at least, it is an interesting thought, question or words smashed together that leave themselves ringing in your ear. I find it important to thoroughly enjoy those speaking words (which many of us do, usually with a chuckle, a smile or even a perplexed wrinkle in the forehead), but also to capture them in a writers notebook. You see, what's so beautiful about catching them in a notebook is that it allows them to come alive again when you revisit them. A poem may stem from each one. Or questions, or some other form of writing. A song. Or you throw them all together, one after the other, and suddenly you have a list poem like the one I have shared here in a previous entry.
Without this writers notebook, though, you are forced to start from scratch every time you sit down to write (not that this is necessarily a bad thing-- always). But with the writers notebook, you are given the freedom to come and go as you please. Perhaps the muse hits you but so does a duty call. No worries, the notebook holds the flair the muse began with and keeps it there for you so that when you are able to return the words have not left you.
This, my friends, is why I am more than ready to bring my writers notebook back to life.
after a day of maintaining
the Hidden Curriculum.
The prof. scrawls across
the board a crazed
madness. And in my
desired stuper, I find
myself unsure of
whether his madness is
the lecture of our course
or the gibberish twitching
in my dreaming
head.
Can anyone guess what class I wrote this in? haha :) You never know when your muse will hover over you, asking you to write.
I left my last entry without sharing what a writers notebook is (for anyone who may not know-- which also assumes that someone reads theses posts, and of which I have no idea). A writers notebook is simply a place to jot things down daily as you notice them. Sometimes, as in the instance of the little poem above, a full verse or set of verses or prose, etc., come pouring on out of you and onto the paper. But most times, for me at least, it is an interesting thought, question or words smashed together that leave themselves ringing in your ear. I find it important to thoroughly enjoy those speaking words (which many of us do, usually with a chuckle, a smile or even a perplexed wrinkle in the forehead), but also to capture them in a writers notebook. You see, what's so beautiful about catching them in a notebook is that it allows them to come alive again when you revisit them. A poem may stem from each one. Or questions, or some other form of writing. A song. Or you throw them all together, one after the other, and suddenly you have a list poem like the one I have shared here in a previous entry.
Without this writers notebook, though, you are forced to start from scratch every time you sit down to write (not that this is necessarily a bad thing-- always). But with the writers notebook, you are given the freedom to come and go as you please. Perhaps the muse hits you but so does a duty call. No worries, the notebook holds the flair the muse began with and keeps it there for you so that when you are able to return the words have not left you.
This, my friends, is why I am more than ready to bring my writers notebook back to life.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Time for a new writer's notebook!
These are little tidbits that should be in my writer's notebook but instead are randomly scattered throughout my three course spiral notebook.... It is most definitely time for a new writer's notebook!
Am i working right now or am I on a frolic of my own?
Song of a generation.
Celebration of alcoholic beverages.
we are not human beings going through a temporary spiritual experience. we are spiritual beings going through a temporary human experience.
How much control can you buy?
Hoolaginism
shoot... i can't find the fun little poem i thought i had in here... that'll have to come later......
Am i working right now or am I on a frolic of my own?
Song of a generation.
Celebration of alcoholic beverages.
we are not human beings going through a temporary spiritual experience. we are spiritual beings going through a temporary human experience.
How much control can you buy?
Hoolaginism
shoot... i can't find the fun little poem i thought i had in here... that'll have to come later......
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I was so inspired to write for the past several hours and now that I sit down at my computer, blog open and ready, I'm stuck. Yuck.
I love to teach. In ways it surprises me and in others it doesn't at all. TaeKwon-Do has really opened this world up to me, but it goes so much further than that. There's something about being able to captivate the people or even the person in front of you. I think I was able to achieve that tonight and it made me feel wonderful while I was doing it. What I find interesting, though, is how our reaction is to question just to what extent it may or may not have been wonderful the moment after we've finished. I, earnestly, blame it on our devotion to grades. It is only good if I am told it is good.
And yet, we study theory in my class before tonight's, and here is this "advanced level of development" where you simply do not care what others think. Or, "separate yourself from" others in that the sense of coming to a point where what they think, in the end, does not matter.
What I ask is, is this possible? Particularly when we've spent our lives, and continue to spend it, in a world which tells us what is right and wrong and when something is good or meets standards and when it does not. And yet, here I am, sitting right here, ready to lay it all down on the line to do anything that God might ask of me.
It makes sense
to me
but I can't always explain
with words
why.
And in other moments, I'm pierced with the Holy Spirit and so clearly the words pour out of me in a way I never could have imagined.
But this stems away from the original direction I was heading in--
We live such a large portion of our lives being remarkably limited in our ability to choose for ourselves, truly.
We spend even more of our lives having others tell us what is right or wrong, good or bad, beautiful or ugly and, unfortunately, the list continues.
How, then, do we come to an understanding that I can choose what I am okay with and what I am not okay with?
How much easier is it for us to apply what we think is right to the people we come across in our day to day lives than to ourselves?
How is it that we come to being able to move beyond that point, into true acceptance of ourselves in EVERY given moment?
The answer to that would be the process of life; which is too much for this (and several other) entries. The answer is also how we come unto religion, spirituality and the lack there of (Each of which I truly believe strongly involves CHOICE-- yet another entry. I take it back, read my 25pg essay discussing the intercomplexities of "Christian Feminism"). And when I say come into, I mean personally rather than prescriptively.
This one right here has been the latest cored which has been strummed within me in regard to what I believe, why I believe, how I've come to believe, and how I live what I believe.
This is another entry (series) though.
Here I am talking about God and religion and the ability to truly make a choice for oneself in life, questioning to what level it is truly possible-- none of which was anything I had intended to write about. In a way, though, that's a piece of the beauty of the art: if you allow writing to do so, it will take you on unforeseeable adventures.
Bliss.
And where did it all start? My car has been in the shop since Friday. Yep, this started because I have been carless.
Walking. I love it. I've missed it. Walking with headphones on.
Yes, I know, I know, I'm writing about music and headphones yet again. But what can I say? It is such a large part of our everyday lives, why not slow down enough so that we can truly recognize it?
More on this, soon, I'm sure.
I love to teach. In ways it surprises me and in others it doesn't at all. TaeKwon-Do has really opened this world up to me, but it goes so much further than that. There's something about being able to captivate the people or even the person in front of you. I think I was able to achieve that tonight and it made me feel wonderful while I was doing it. What I find interesting, though, is how our reaction is to question just to what extent it may or may not have been wonderful the moment after we've finished. I, earnestly, blame it on our devotion to grades. It is only good if I am told it is good.
And yet, we study theory in my class before tonight's, and here is this "advanced level of development" where you simply do not care what others think. Or, "separate yourself from" others in that the sense of coming to a point where what they think, in the end, does not matter.
What I ask is, is this possible? Particularly when we've spent our lives, and continue to spend it, in a world which tells us what is right and wrong and when something is good or meets standards and when it does not. And yet, here I am, sitting right here, ready to lay it all down on the line to do anything that God might ask of me.
It makes sense
to me
but I can't always explain
with words
why.
And in other moments, I'm pierced with the Holy Spirit and so clearly the words pour out of me in a way I never could have imagined.
But this stems away from the original direction I was heading in--
We live such a large portion of our lives being remarkably limited in our ability to choose for ourselves, truly.
We spend even more of our lives having others tell us what is right or wrong, good or bad, beautiful or ugly and, unfortunately, the list continues.
How, then, do we come to an understanding that I can choose what I am okay with and what I am not okay with?
How much easier is it for us to apply what we think is right to the people we come across in our day to day lives than to ourselves?
How is it that we come to being able to move beyond that point, into true acceptance of ourselves in EVERY given moment?
The answer to that would be the process of life; which is too much for this (and several other) entries. The answer is also how we come unto religion, spirituality and the lack there of (Each of which I truly believe strongly involves CHOICE-- yet another entry. I take it back, read my 25pg essay discussing the intercomplexities of "Christian Feminism"). And when I say come into, I mean personally rather than prescriptively.
This one right here has been the latest cored which has been strummed within me in regard to what I believe, why I believe, how I've come to believe, and how I live what I believe.
This is another entry (series) though.
Here I am talking about God and religion and the ability to truly make a choice for oneself in life, questioning to what level it is truly possible-- none of which was anything I had intended to write about. In a way, though, that's a piece of the beauty of the art: if you allow writing to do so, it will take you on unforeseeable adventures.
Bliss.
And where did it all start? My car has been in the shop since Friday. Yep, this started because I have been carless.
Walking. I love it. I've missed it. Walking with headphones on.
Yes, I know, I know, I'm writing about music and headphones yet again. But what can I say? It is such a large part of our everyday lives, why not slow down enough so that we can truly recognize it?
More on this, soon, I'm sure.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Spring will always make me think of you.
I'm remembering how sentimental I am.
I've forgotten how much change, even in its slightest form, alters how we see our once familiar home.
I am appreciative of what ten hours in a car can do.
I wish there was something I could do to wash away the worry of others.
This brings me back to the little things.
I struggle with those who have money and those who don't. I wish our world could even it out.
This too brings me back to the little things--
I'm humbled by those who act selflessly.
I pray for sensitivity and clarity of sight for how and when I can give of myself
(in whatever way that might be).
When I miss where I was, I remember what I have.
I'm remembering how sentimental I am.
I've forgotten how much change, even in its slightest form, alters how we see our once familiar home.
I am appreciative of what ten hours in a car can do.
I wish there was something I could do to wash away the worry of others.
This brings me back to the little things.
I struggle with those who have money and those who don't. I wish our world could even it out.
This too brings me back to the little things--
I'm humbled by those who act selflessly.
I pray for sensitivity and clarity of sight for how and when I can give of myself
(in whatever way that might be).
When I miss where I was, I remember what I have.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The sky was so beautiful tonight, it took my breath away.
It has been cloudy for a solid two weeks now, but I didn't mind. I have been observing and pondering over how much weather affects mood. I have heard of, and even witness to a certain extent, SAD but something about the past two weeks is different than what I have seen thus far. I'm not quite ready to delve much further yet-- perhaps another post somewhere down the road.
I have come to an appreciation of weather. I love the true beauty of nature, especially in its purest form. It is powerful. In an instant, mass destruction can occur. In the very next, or quite possibly even the same instant, a rainbow graces us with its presence.
What I wonder is if others marvel at and appreciate the blue sky daily or if it remains the backdrop to their day. One of my favorite part of each day is allowing the weather to surround me. To embrace it and appreciate it.
The fog lately has been mystifying. The clouds made me take another look at what we see below the sky. The trees. The melting snow. How it seemed odd to have less than a foot of snow on the ground and how the snow piles which were three stories high are now about one story high. The water on the ground with random ice and snow chunks made obstacle courses; we looked like little kids jumping from one to another. I didn't mind walking outside because it was warm and there's something peaceful about walking in the rain.
Last night, I walked outside after teaching TaeKwon-Do and all I could do is look at the sky. It was a deep deep navy blue, such a deep blue that many mistake it for black. The clouds were thinning out and three, four, five...stars began to shine their bright shine, waiting for us to accept their beauty. I couldn't stop looking.
This morning, the sun greeted me (along with several sneezes that come with my walking out into the sunshine) and everyone was smiling again.
Tonight, tonight was beautiful. I walked out from teaching again and the sky was the most beautiful series of blues I have ever seen. As I looked over to the skyline, I literally stopped in my tracks (in the middle of the parking lot). The trees were black in the low light and between the limbs there was a bright, pure blue. And as the limbs went up and narrowed towards the end, the sky turned with them to a deep royal blue, nearly an aqua, fading into a deep navy blue. Looking straight up, the sky was a warm black, wrapping its arms around a few pure stars ready to shine their way through the night. When I brought my eyes back down, I saw the moon, hiding behind the twigs at the top of the trees. Its sliver, missed by most-- only giving it a single glance, was what completed the image in front of me. I instantly wanted my camera in hopes of capturing the moment, hoping to hang onto it for more than just the few blinks of an eye I was given to enjoy it. Then I realized that the camera never would have caught the image truly. Moments like these, the sky, the moon, the trees, only existed in a way where one has to be willing to slow down, quieting themselves, and truly taking in what is around them for it to be seen.
I have to say, I am thankful that this was a moment I was given.
It has been cloudy for a solid two weeks now, but I didn't mind. I have been observing and pondering over how much weather affects mood. I have heard of, and even witness to a certain extent, SAD but something about the past two weeks is different than what I have seen thus far. I'm not quite ready to delve much further yet-- perhaps another post somewhere down the road.
I have come to an appreciation of weather. I love the true beauty of nature, especially in its purest form. It is powerful. In an instant, mass destruction can occur. In the very next, or quite possibly even the same instant, a rainbow graces us with its presence.
What I wonder is if others marvel at and appreciate the blue sky daily or if it remains the backdrop to their day. One of my favorite part of each day is allowing the weather to surround me. To embrace it and appreciate it.
The fog lately has been mystifying. The clouds made me take another look at what we see below the sky. The trees. The melting snow. How it seemed odd to have less than a foot of snow on the ground and how the snow piles which were three stories high are now about one story high. The water on the ground with random ice and snow chunks made obstacle courses; we looked like little kids jumping from one to another. I didn't mind walking outside because it was warm and there's something peaceful about walking in the rain.
Last night, I walked outside after teaching TaeKwon-Do and all I could do is look at the sky. It was a deep deep navy blue, such a deep blue that many mistake it for black. The clouds were thinning out and three, four, five...stars began to shine their bright shine, waiting for us to accept their beauty. I couldn't stop looking.
This morning, the sun greeted me (along with several sneezes that come with my walking out into the sunshine) and everyone was smiling again.
Tonight, tonight was beautiful. I walked out from teaching again and the sky was the most beautiful series of blues I have ever seen. As I looked over to the skyline, I literally stopped in my tracks (in the middle of the parking lot). The trees were black in the low light and between the limbs there was a bright, pure blue. And as the limbs went up and narrowed towards the end, the sky turned with them to a deep royal blue, nearly an aqua, fading into a deep navy blue. Looking straight up, the sky was a warm black, wrapping its arms around a few pure stars ready to shine their way through the night. When I brought my eyes back down, I saw the moon, hiding behind the twigs at the top of the trees. Its sliver, missed by most-- only giving it a single glance, was what completed the image in front of me. I instantly wanted my camera in hopes of capturing the moment, hoping to hang onto it for more than just the few blinks of an eye I was given to enjoy it. Then I realized that the camera never would have caught the image truly. Moments like these, the sky, the moon, the trees, only existed in a way where one has to be willing to slow down, quieting themselves, and truly taking in what is around them for it to be seen.
I have to say, I am thankful that this was a moment I was given.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Today's road trip
I've decided that I have a fascination with the old mills in North Dakota. I have always been in love with the history buildings hold, especially abandoned buildings. Yet, until very recently (and now in this blog post), I have not shared this fact with anyone. I have no idea why. It has always been a treasure that I've cherished all to myself. For some reason, it's an intimate secret that I enjoy holding on to. What's more interesting, I really do not have much interest in history at all. So why the untold story of an old building? Perhaps because it stands untold?
In Wisconsin, I cherish old barns. In North Dakota, mills. Universally (thus far), houses-- especially if there's till a standing outhouse.
We found this beautiful little town today. I was awe-stricken by it. I felt like I should be with my grandparents, maybe my brother. We pulled into town and every element I saw made me think of my family-- announcer's box, tavern (where you can't-- believe it or not --get a good bar burger), cafe, playground, hard work, dirt, old cars, gravel roads, fellowship and an everyone-knows-who-you-are unity...
We went into the cafe and were instantly sized up (who-the-heck-are-you?! and you're-early-for-lunch-don't-you-know..but-we'll-welcome-you-none-the-less). It was 11:53am and we were definitely not people they knew. Yet somehow we held ourselves in a way where we fit right in. We held our heads just right, our stances showed hard work and time spent learning hard work. We were quick to smile and found a friendliness within us easily. Well, this is what I saw from my own eyes, through lenses of memory, at least.
11:57am came and in came an older gentelman who walked like my grandpa used to walk before his knee replacement. He stared us down with that known, 'you're a new face' gaze, and was greeted warm heartedly by the women behind the counter. "You're early today."
12 noon hit the clock and I waited for the siren to announce the time. When it didn't, I remembered where I was. Although this felt a lot like home, it wasn't the same home I had known growing up in. The train and the mill and the signs of work and laughter were there, but the siren didn't signal 12 noon, dinner time, in this town. That didn't stop the people comin' though. In then came a young fellow and I swore for a second that he was my brother's twin. Closer look told me otherwise, but I appreciated his easy nature and his dark eyes.
I enjoy allowing myself to get wrapped up in the stories buildings and little towns give their viewers. All it needs is someone to come and take a look into it's past; it'll share if you let it.
We only took a peek into the heart of the town today. I'll have to go back on my own sometime. It's a beautiful little place, one which my camera is calling out for me to click some more photos of.
In Wisconsin, I cherish old barns. In North Dakota, mills. Universally (thus far), houses-- especially if there's till a standing outhouse.
We found this beautiful little town today. I was awe-stricken by it. I felt like I should be with my grandparents, maybe my brother. We pulled into town and every element I saw made me think of my family-- announcer's box, tavern (where you can't-- believe it or not --get a good bar burger), cafe, playground, hard work, dirt, old cars, gravel roads, fellowship and an everyone-knows-who-you-are unity...
We went into the cafe and were instantly sized up (who-the-heck-are-you?! and you're-early-for-lunch-don't-you-know..but-we'll-welcome-you-none-the-less). It was 11:53am and we were definitely not people they knew. Yet somehow we held ourselves in a way where we fit right in. We held our heads just right, our stances showed hard work and time spent learning hard work. We were quick to smile and found a friendliness within us easily. Well, this is what I saw from my own eyes, through lenses of memory, at least.
11:57am came and in came an older gentelman who walked like my grandpa used to walk before his knee replacement. He stared us down with that known, 'you're a new face' gaze, and was greeted warm heartedly by the women behind the counter. "You're early today."
12 noon hit the clock and I waited for the siren to announce the time. When it didn't, I remembered where I was. Although this felt a lot like home, it wasn't the same home I had known growing up in. The train and the mill and the signs of work and laughter were there, but the siren didn't signal 12 noon, dinner time, in this town. That didn't stop the people comin' though. In then came a young fellow and I swore for a second that he was my brother's twin. Closer look told me otherwise, but I appreciated his easy nature and his dark eyes.
I enjoy allowing myself to get wrapped up in the stories buildings and little towns give their viewers. All it needs is someone to come and take a look into it's past; it'll share if you let it.
We only took a peek into the heart of the town today. I'll have to go back on my own sometime. It's a beautiful little place, one which my camera is calling out for me to click some more photos of.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Poem
I guess I feel like sharing this week. This is a poem I wrote for our manuscript project for a poetry class I took as a sophomore in college. Making me want to start investing time in poetry again.
List poem taken from loveable lines in my writers notebook.
Life's List
Salty.
Used religion.
Excitement's form alone- worry.
Collecting repeatedness.
Listening to fake rain.
Discerning odd dreams.
Off, tied tongue.
Dinning over poems.
The shock of consciousness in the city.
Thoughts in line.
Birds with beer on beaks.
Tattoo subjects.
Lines where body ends.
Neoclassical crap.
Something for the poets
to try and take down.
A 12 page sleeping pill.
As purposeful as felt placed on
the bottom of shoes.
I couldn't cry right.
Moments waiting for whiteout.
Literature of the dead.
What a society of critics are
willing to withstand.
"Placebo for your pocket."
Jars of Clay.
My sweet little toe religion.
As excited as 4 thousand
forty 8 pop tabs.
Conundrum.
Buzzed right by in almost
a blissful blur.
Life laughs last.
List poem taken from loveable lines in my writers notebook.
Life's List
Salty.
Used religion.
Excitement's form alone- worry.
Collecting repeatedness.
Listening to fake rain.
Discerning odd dreams.
Off, tied tongue.
Dinning over poems.
The shock of consciousness in the city.
Thoughts in line.
Birds with beer on beaks.
Tattoo subjects.
Lines where body ends.
Neoclassical crap.
Something for the poets
to try and take down.
A 12 page sleeping pill.
As purposeful as felt placed on
the bottom of shoes.
I couldn't cry right.
Moments waiting for whiteout.
Literature of the dead.
What a society of critics are
willing to withstand.
"Placebo for your pocket."
Jars of Clay.
My sweet little toe religion.
As excited as 4 thousand
forty 8 pop tabs.
Conundrum.
Buzzed right by in almost
a blissful blur.
Life laughs last.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Why "With My Headphones On"?
So, I struggled to pick a title for the blog. I'm still not 100% sold on it, but it relates to my semester and really you could say that it relates to how I write-- with music, nearly always. Music ends up in my poetry. Lyrics spur thoughts and questions and suddenly I can't find paper and pen quick enough. Or, words start as etchings on a sheet and it's not long before I realize that they must be sung.
Headphones is a song by Jars of Clay. Here are the lyrics:
I don't have to hear it,
if I don't want to.
I can drown this out,
pull the curtains down on you.
It's a heavy world;
it's too much for me to care.
If I close my eyes
it's not there.
With my headphones on (x5)
We watch television
but the sound is something else,
just a song played against
the drama
so the hurt is never felt.
I take in the war fires
and I'm chilled by the current events.
It's so helpless,
but there's a pop song in my head--
phones on
in my headphones on (x2)
with my headphones on (x5)
At the tube stop,
you sit down across from me
(she sings over him) I can see you looking back at me.
I think I know you
by the sad eyes that I see.
I want to tell you
It's a heavy world,
everything will be okay.
You wouldn't hear it
I didn't want to half to hear it.
so we go our separate ways
with our headphones on.
With our headphones on.
(they sing together) I don't want to be the one
With our headphones on.
to try to figure it out.
With our headphones on.
I don't even know the reason why
With our headphones on
I should care about you,
With our headphones on
you don't want to know my story,
With our headphones on
you don't want to own my pain.
Livin' in a heavy heavy world.
With our headphones on
When there's a pop song in my head
I don't have to hear it
With our headphones on
It's a heavy world
I don't want to half to hear it
With our headphones on
Heavy world
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it.
I don't think I need to explain much there. Music is different with headphones on. You are pulled into the lyrics. Suddenly the base becomes known. The guitar jumps out at you and harmony surrounds your heart, making you beg for more. It's not just 'something in the background' but your world for the few moments you take make it your concern. It allows you to let nothing else matter.
Now. pair this with where the group name "Jars of Clay" comes from:
2 Corinthians 4: 1-12
1Therefore, since through God's mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. 2Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God. 3And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. 4The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. 5For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. 6For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness,"a]">[a]made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.
Have you ever noticed that music is timeless? The bible speaks repeatedly of worshiping God by song. Even in heaven there's continual worship through song.
Music gives us a piece of heaven. Music brings us to God. Well, a lot of it does but maybe not all of it. What do you listen to? Why do you listen to it? How does it make you feel? What does it do for you? What does the music you listen to tell you about yourself?
Music (and writing) give me moments which I treasure. They bring me back to what is important in life: God, the little things (or so I like to call them), the people I love, the people I deeply miss but love to remember, the people I need to forgive so that I may love them again, who I am and who I want to continue to be. Music and writing show me the treasures I want to keep in my 'jars of clay'. I want to keep them in 'jars of clay' because I recognizes that they're gifts which are not of me but are of God.
THIS is why I've named my blog "With My Headphones On".
Headphones is a song by Jars of Clay. Here are the lyrics:
I don't have to hear it,
if I don't want to.
I can drown this out,
pull the curtains down on you.
It's a heavy world;
it's too much for me to care.
If I close my eyes
it's not there.
With my headphones on (x5)
We watch television
but the sound is something else,
just a song played against
the drama
so the hurt is never felt.
I take in the war fires
and I'm chilled by the current events.
It's so helpless,
but there's a pop song in my head--
phones on
in my headphones on (x2)
with my headphones on (x5)
At the tube stop,
you sit down across from me
(she sings over him) I can see you looking back at me.
I think I know you
by the sad eyes that I see.
I want to tell you
It's a heavy world,
everything will be okay.
You wouldn't hear it
I didn't want to half to hear it.
so we go our separate ways
with our headphones on.
With our headphones on.
(they sing together) I don't want to be the one
With our headphones on.
to try to figure it out.
With our headphones on.
I don't even know the reason why
With our headphones on
I should care about you,
With our headphones on
you don't want to know my story,
With our headphones on
you don't want to own my pain.
Livin' in a heavy heavy world.
With our headphones on
When there's a pop song in my head
I don't have to hear it
With our headphones on
It's a heavy world
I don't want to half to hear it
With our headphones on
Heavy world
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it
I don't want to half to hear it.
I don't think I need to explain much there. Music is different with headphones on. You are pulled into the lyrics. Suddenly the base becomes known. The guitar jumps out at you and harmony surrounds your heart, making you beg for more. It's not just 'something in the background' but your world for the few moments you take make it your concern. It allows you to let nothing else matter.
Now. pair this with where the group name "Jars of Clay" comes from:
2 Corinthians 4: 1-12
1Therefore, since through God's mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. 2Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God. 3And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. 4The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. 5For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. 6For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness,"a]">[a]made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.
7But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. 12So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
Have you ever noticed that music is timeless? The bible speaks repeatedly of worshiping God by song. Even in heaven there's continual worship through song.
Music gives us a piece of heaven. Music brings us to God. Well, a lot of it does but maybe not all of it. What do you listen to? Why do you listen to it? How does it make you feel? What does it do for you? What does the music you listen to tell you about yourself?
Music (and writing) give me moments which I treasure. They bring me back to what is important in life: God, the little things (or so I like to call them), the people I love, the people I deeply miss but love to remember, the people I need to forgive so that I may love them again, who I am and who I want to continue to be. Music and writing show me the treasures I want to keep in my 'jars of clay'. I want to keep them in 'jars of clay' because I recognizes that they're gifts which are not of me but are of God.
THIS is why I've named my blog "With My Headphones On".
Inner Silence
I'm intrigued by how much we are able to push ourselves. I always have been, and I think this may be part of why I've loved my experiences with TKD camp (TKD in general for that matter), and why I've always considered entering the military. I'm well beyond my limits, yet here I am still functioning.
I've found that you learn a lot about yourself when you've surpassed your stopping point. I get crabby. And emotional. I want to talk, but only to the few people that I trust wholeheartedly. I find myself frustrated with the things I disagree with, and when I'm in their presence, I quickly become irritated and agitated. And, of course, I become rather stubborn.
I've found, too, that it is usually during these times that the world feels like too much. We spend our down time worrying about not getting a break, being unable to take a day off, and (from my last post) quickly become consumed in thought of the things we think we don't like.
What do I want in times like these? Quite time. To find my inner silence. To hear God speak to me again-- which I will only find once I've slowed myself and come into a peaceful inner silence. What I find myself wanting is a long car ride. To be with someone I trust and feel comfortable with. To play tetris, to paint or draw. To play my guitar. A long walk. A workout. To listen to music through headphones-- it changes when you listen through headphones. A slow paced morning, with coffee. Why?
Each of these things allow me to be myself without the need to question who I am. Each gives me the space to think about anything or nothing. I'm given time to process and let any guard that may have come up with the stress to fall away. I remember what I love and am allowed to fall in love all over again with life in general (don't you just love how we're able to fall in love with something over and over again?). I more clearly see the presence and work of God and I find answers to questions I didn't know I was asking.
The challenge in all of this is realizing when we're past our limits and, instead of fixating on the fact that we've been pushed to this point (whether by self, more than likely, or outside forces) and allow yourself to enjoy what you have, including the small moments of rest. And most of all, remember to put headphones on and listen to that music that soothes your soul. *sigh* ahhhhh.... :)
I've found that you learn a lot about yourself when you've surpassed your stopping point. I get crabby. And emotional. I want to talk, but only to the few people that I trust wholeheartedly. I find myself frustrated with the things I disagree with, and when I'm in their presence, I quickly become irritated and agitated. And, of course, I become rather stubborn.
I've found, too, that it is usually during these times that the world feels like too much. We spend our down time worrying about not getting a break, being unable to take a day off, and (from my last post) quickly become consumed in thought of the things we think we don't like.
What do I want in times like these? Quite time. To find my inner silence. To hear God speak to me again-- which I will only find once I've slowed myself and come into a peaceful inner silence. What I find myself wanting is a long car ride. To be with someone I trust and feel comfortable with. To play tetris, to paint or draw. To play my guitar. A long walk. A workout. To listen to music through headphones-- it changes when you listen through headphones. A slow paced morning, with coffee. Why?
Each of these things allow me to be myself without the need to question who I am. Each gives me the space to think about anything or nothing. I'm given time to process and let any guard that may have come up with the stress to fall away. I remember what I love and am allowed to fall in love all over again with life in general (don't you just love how we're able to fall in love with something over and over again?). I more clearly see the presence and work of God and I find answers to questions I didn't know I was asking.
The challenge in all of this is realizing when we're past our limits and, instead of fixating on the fact that we've been pushed to this point (whether by self, more than likely, or outside forces) and allow yourself to enjoy what you have, including the small moments of rest. And most of all, remember to put headphones on and listen to that music that soothes your soul. *sigh* ahhhhh.... :)
Past Poetry
I like poetry. I don't share it much, but it's easier to do on a venue like this. Random little things I stumbled across again tonight:
Nothin'
cause I don't
want to be judged
by the words I leave
here.
Untitled Prose
i find it quite amazing, the power of a few simple words. or, even one single word by its self. a word or a set of words sends a message. it is a statement, it shares something, provides insight and lends knowledge. words stay with us. they find a home somewhere deep inside and bury themselves flush within covers made from our heart and soul. they ride there through the day or night and help guide and shape who we are. one must choose their words wisely, for the words they choose to release will do one of two things-- take shape of the wind and become the final fatal force which pushes us over the edge to a never ending spiral, landing only with the most brutal of all deaths; for words of evil spirit do indeed kill something within. or, one's words could too take shape as the wind and lift us up into the air, twirling about and giving the gift of flight. from such great heights we can see nothing but the beauty which surrounds us constantly and have a choice none other than to spread what it is we see, what we have found and never again wish to let go of.
and it is now that i find myself in the mitts of dueling winds.
(Appropriate for a first entry, I thought)
Music. It's been my central focus lately. It's a large part of my life regularly, not that this is out of the ordinary for anyone, this week, though, it is almost as though I have discovered music for the first time. I'm drawn in. I feel like I could sit and listen to music all day long without need or want for anything more. "I'm the friend you need but can't be trusted" echos through the room from my speakers, and instantly my mind runs to the person this reminds me of.
Why are we so easily confused, wound up in, and seemingly torn away from the friends we're so remarkably close to?
What's more, we know that it is worth it.
That is me, that is the me I wish to always be. I am everything, now and in this moment. Why should we be anything less? All we ever have is the moment we are in. I want to live with love. Love is God-- how amazing is that? I want to know how I can be more in the moment, what will it take? When I'm mad, I am m-a-d mad! When I'm sad, I'm sad enough to allow it to be. But then I work to let it pass. We spend so much of our time consumed, consumed by-- insert pretty much anything and everything here --our challenge is how to balance our lives out so that we find ourselves thoroughly consumed by what we wish to be consumed by at least most of the time. There will always be the inevitable times where you are consumed with or by something you'd really rather not be. But embrace it. Live it. Really allow yourself to live. Because without which, what is life?
Nothin'
cause I don't
want to be judged
by the words I leave
here.
Untitled Prose
i find it quite amazing, the power of a few simple words. or, even one single word by its self. a word or a set of words sends a message. it is a statement, it shares something, provides insight and lends knowledge. words stay with us. they find a home somewhere deep inside and bury themselves flush within covers made from our heart and soul. they ride there through the day or night and help guide and shape who we are. one must choose their words wisely, for the words they choose to release will do one of two things-- take shape of the wind and become the final fatal force which pushes us over the edge to a never ending spiral, landing only with the most brutal of all deaths; for words of evil spirit do indeed kill something within. or, one's words could too take shape as the wind and lift us up into the air, twirling about and giving the gift of flight. from such great heights we can see nothing but the beauty which surrounds us constantly and have a choice none other than to spread what it is we see, what we have found and never again wish to let go of.
and it is now that i find myself in the mitts of dueling winds.
(Appropriate for a first entry, I thought)
Music. It's been my central focus lately. It's a large part of my life regularly, not that this is out of the ordinary for anyone, this week, though, it is almost as though I have discovered music for the first time. I'm drawn in. I feel like I could sit and listen to music all day long without need or want for anything more. "I'm the friend you need but can't be trusted" echos through the room from my speakers, and instantly my mind runs to the person this reminds me of.
Why are we so easily confused, wound up in, and seemingly torn away from the friends we're so remarkably close to?
What's more, we know that it is worth it.
That is me, that is the me I wish to always be. I am everything, now and in this moment. Why should we be anything less? All we ever have is the moment we are in. I want to live with love. Love is God-- how amazing is that? I want to know how I can be more in the moment, what will it take? When I'm mad, I am m-a-d mad! When I'm sad, I'm sad enough to allow it to be. But then I work to let it pass. We spend so much of our time consumed, consumed by-- insert pretty much anything and everything here --our challenge is how to balance our lives out so that we find ourselves thoroughly consumed by what we wish to be consumed by at least most of the time. There will always be the inevitable times where you are consumed with or by something you'd really rather not be. But embrace it. Live it. Really allow yourself to live. Because without which, what is life?
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