Scattered

some thoughts I listed from January 12th:

  1. There’s something endearing about the way my sister reaches her fist into the box of plain cornflakes before she leaves for school in the morning.
  2. in forests, in gold streams
  3. Why hasn’t he replied?
  4. flowers strung along a wall. cracks in the pavement.
  5. I want to create.
  6. What do I look like to other people?
  7. First impressions (to write about later)
  8. I’ve been thinking in pictures more than in words lately
    is that how we all think?
    i think so.
  9. I really miss them.
  10. the clouds look like purple elephants.
  11. how much of my sister’s life am I missing?
  12. My hands smell like clementine.
  13. citiesclouds

Quote #5

“I always did something I was a little not ready to do. I think that is how you grow.”

–Marissa Mayer

minimalist
from etsy

Learning how to let go of fear and live in freedom. Unapologetically beloved. The words sound pretty and promising, but they have been smeared and stained and soaked and built and burned with prayers, heartaches upon aches upon aches, self-doubt, small faith, sleeplessness, and the beginnings of surrender.

thank You.

Up down

The two sat on the wooden stairwell and watched the orange glow of the portable furnace, stretching their legs. In the stillness, she could feel her dad’s breaths rise and fall against her shoulders—up, down, up down, the rhythms of solitude. Her heart ached and swelled into her throat, but she did not know why. Do people age silently? She felt that her thoughts were like a black hole, spiraling into invisible possibilities and unknowns, and it was only the up-down-up-down of her father’s chest that kept her connected to the world outside her own.

They spoke without speaking, exchanging feelings and disentangling misunderstandings—two hearts that beat: up, down, up down.

To Thoreau

img_20160902_155838759

From the woods near his home.

There is a giant crater filled with moving glass, and up above another one, filled with infinite blue, surrounded by light, surrounded by pine. Above and below two craters that cannot be filled. I am here at Walden pond, a ways away from where you built a humble home to ponder and perceive, perhaps pick out some meaning which you had thought could not be found in the city. But here where the wild grass is trembling, barely holding onto flowery caps, here where the wind is an invisible yet powerful breath, here in this moment, only gratitude escapes the pen and writes itself upon my page.

Continue reading “To Thoreau”

Wrestling

Oh God,

There are so many eyes looking to me! I only want to look to you.
What goodness they see in me– it has always been you.
I miss the people who showed me your goodness; how much more so can I see your face in light of everyone’s absence?
For you are my lone stronghold, my refuge and my great strength.
Help me not to be afraid, for you are with me.
My hiding place. You are a lover who knows how to love well.
Keep me near. Turn my eyes to see your face, ’til all I know is death.
For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.