Showing posts with label stagnant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stagnant. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Monologue: Stay
I'm not tethered to this place, freed by the limitation of falling. There is breath that fills my lungs and alleviates my heart, there is a shaking of foundations that oysters up new birth.
I am free, I am calm, I am at ease.
I think I'll write a monologue:
I'm not playing this game anymore. I'm not chasing you like dogs allegedly chase cars. I'm not...wasting that much time on you. The hardest thing about this is that I'm not mad. A little annoyed, but not mad. I wish I was. I wish I could curse your name and fume to my friends. I wish I could despise you. Anger makes it easier to let go. It's easier to overturn tables and bite my thumb at you than it is to stay here.
But that's what I have to do. Stay. There's no one to blame when things simply fall apart. No one was wrong in us not being right. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt... This is the life I get to lead now, watching you roam with that harness on, safe and secure while I fall, watching you live and breath and experience all the things I'd hoped for us...all things I hope for with someone else if someone else would call. If anyone else would call. Because after you, no one's called.
The universe has a system of give and take, and often it all comes at once. One good opportunity is handed over and suddenly dozens more are at the door, but a week before all was nothing. The road led nowhere, all was vain and pointless.
You left and took it all with you. You unstopped the drain and everything the universe could have been handing me swirled into oblivion, vanishing from beneath my feet and between my toes. And I can't hate you for it. And that's the hardest part.
I am free, I am calm, I am at ease.
I think I'll write a monologue:
I'm not playing this game anymore. I'm not chasing you like dogs allegedly chase cars. I'm not...wasting that much time on you. The hardest thing about this is that I'm not mad. A little annoyed, but not mad. I wish I was. I wish I could curse your name and fume to my friends. I wish I could despise you. Anger makes it easier to let go. It's easier to overturn tables and bite my thumb at you than it is to stay here.
But that's what I have to do. Stay. There's no one to blame when things simply fall apart. No one was wrong in us not being right. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt... This is the life I get to lead now, watching you roam with that harness on, safe and secure while I fall, watching you live and breath and experience all the things I'd hoped for us...all things I hope for with someone else if someone else would call. If anyone else would call. Because after you, no one's called.
The universe has a system of give and take, and often it all comes at once. One good opportunity is handed over and suddenly dozens more are at the door, but a week before all was nothing. The road led nowhere, all was vain and pointless.
You left and took it all with you. You unstopped the drain and everything the universe could have been handing me swirled into oblivion, vanishing from beneath my feet and between my toes. And I can't hate you for it. And that's the hardest part.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
"24 And now I speak unto all the ends of the earth--that if the day cometh that the power and gifts of God shall be done away among you, it shall be because of unbelief."
-Moroni 10:24
I check up on myself every once in a while, see how I'm standing compared to where I was. It was November, and I checked the list to the right that shows my posts through year and months. It was depressing to see I was a long ways off from the 40's I'd been reaching with no qualms for the past two years.
I felt insufficient.
But suddenly I had so much to write about and so many ways to script it: the words came back.
It's because faith and application of it came back.
I realized this a few months ago, that I'd added some five pages to my manuscript during the summer purgatory, whereas the year before I'd jotted near sixty pages plus a notebook of extensive backstory and side details I'll probably never divulge. I realized, though the words may still be around, they aren't as free flowing as when I'm plowing a prosperous field and sowing spiritual oats. It takes me three times as long to locate them.
I acknowledged this, yes, and continued merrily on my stagnant way.
Which, as a side feature to mirror the slew of nonsense yesterday's post entailed, imagine a stagnant body of water. It could be beautiful; I'd assume most are at the beginnings. But add whether and algae and seasons and animal droppings--with nowhere to leach out to, it festers in itself. It's revolting. I hadn't really thought about it before, though I've used the term stagnant in my internal monologue for weeks. Its got quite the disturbing connotation. And denotation.
If we're being honest, I don't remember which is which.
#englishmajor
The family had settled in for family scripture study, which isn't the most common of practice, and something that I partially don't see the point in because I never keep up with the reader. I always pause at some point to mark a verse in my specific, unique, meaningful way, and catch up some twenty verses later.
This was one such case, but it was worth it, because it clarified what I'd been musing for months and vocalizing on occasion.
"...if the day cometh that the power and gifts of God shall be done away among you, it shall be because of unbelief."
"...if the day cometh that the power and gifts of God shall be done away among you, it shall be because of unbelief."
Yes, I found many musable topics in November, but I also found Christ and rekindled my belief.
And the words came back.
The experience of losing the words and having them return taught me two things: 1) if one doesn't work for the Lord's purpose, one can lose one's gifts; 2) I'm not a writer. That isn't something innate bred in me like my eye color or that freckle on my ring finger. It's not something I'll carry and keep regardless where I tread. The Lord made me a writer. He opens the floodgates through which the words flow and frolic and dance and arrive.
What this means is I can't afford to lose the Lord in my life. I can't afford to dwell in unbelief. I can't survive if he takes away the words.
My favorite lyrical sentence of all time (and this is a drastic statement because there are many a Jason Mraz lyric that are utterly beautiful) is from the Hudson Taylor song "Wont' Back Down." It's my life wrapped up in one sentence. It hits so truly home that if I ever in a million years got a tattoo, that would be the one thing I could visualize myself scripting to my skin. You've probably read it before: it's the subtitle to my blog.
"Take my words, they're all I have."
Losing the words this year forced me to realize that I am nothing without them. I am nothing without the Lord. The only way I could carve a way through this life is through the pen and what it produces. I'm not an actor. I'm hardly a teacher. Everything I am stems from everything I write. I've constantly fallen back on my ability with words.
I can't afford to be idle, at least not with the gospel. If I ever place something below another, the gospel must be what stays afloat. If all I am is possible through the words, and He controls the words, without him I am nothing.
Perhaps this is redundant. Perhaps I didn't articulate it with the smoothness I had hoped. I'm just trying to say what I know now, what I had to learn to cease the circling. Words may be all I have, but that I won't have them if I have unbelief in Christ.
-Moroni 10:24
I check up on myself every once in a while, see how I'm standing compared to where I was. It was November, and I checked the list to the right that shows my posts through year and months. It was depressing to see I was a long ways off from the 40's I'd been reaching with no qualms for the past two years.
I felt insufficient.
But suddenly I had so much to write about and so many ways to script it: the words came back.
It's because faith and application of it came back.
I realized this a few months ago, that I'd added some five pages to my manuscript during the summer purgatory, whereas the year before I'd jotted near sixty pages plus a notebook of extensive backstory and side details I'll probably never divulge. I realized, though the words may still be around, they aren't as free flowing as when I'm plowing a prosperous field and sowing spiritual oats. It takes me three times as long to locate them.
I acknowledged this, yes, and continued merrily on my stagnant way.
Which, as a side feature to mirror the slew of nonsense yesterday's post entailed, imagine a stagnant body of water. It could be beautiful; I'd assume most are at the beginnings. But add whether and algae and seasons and animal droppings--with nowhere to leach out to, it festers in itself. It's revolting. I hadn't really thought about it before, though I've used the term stagnant in my internal monologue for weeks. Its got quite the disturbing connotation. And denotation.
If we're being honest, I don't remember which is which.
#englishmajor
The family had settled in for family scripture study, which isn't the most common of practice, and something that I partially don't see the point in because I never keep up with the reader. I always pause at some point to mark a verse in my specific, unique, meaningful way, and catch up some twenty verses later.
This was one such case, but it was worth it, because it clarified what I'd been musing for months and vocalizing on occasion.
"...if the day cometh that the power and gifts of God shall be done away among you, it shall be because of unbelief."
"...if the day cometh that the power and gifts of God shall be done away among you, it shall be because of unbelief."
Yes, I found many musable topics in November, but I also found Christ and rekindled my belief.
And the words came back.
The experience of losing the words and having them return taught me two things: 1) if one doesn't work for the Lord's purpose, one can lose one's gifts; 2) I'm not a writer. That isn't something innate bred in me like my eye color or that freckle on my ring finger. It's not something I'll carry and keep regardless where I tread. The Lord made me a writer. He opens the floodgates through which the words flow and frolic and dance and arrive.
What this means is I can't afford to lose the Lord in my life. I can't afford to dwell in unbelief. I can't survive if he takes away the words.
My favorite lyrical sentence of all time (and this is a drastic statement because there are many a Jason Mraz lyric that are utterly beautiful) is from the Hudson Taylor song "Wont' Back Down." It's my life wrapped up in one sentence. It hits so truly home that if I ever in a million years got a tattoo, that would be the one thing I could visualize myself scripting to my skin. You've probably read it before: it's the subtitle to my blog.
"Take my words, they're all I have."
Losing the words this year forced me to realize that I am nothing without them. I am nothing without the Lord. The only way I could carve a way through this life is through the pen and what it produces. I'm not an actor. I'm hardly a teacher. Everything I am stems from everything I write. I've constantly fallen back on my ability with words.
I can't afford to be idle, at least not with the gospel. If I ever place something below another, the gospel must be what stays afloat. If all I am is possible through the words, and He controls the words, without him I am nothing.
Perhaps this is redundant. Perhaps I didn't articulate it with the smoothness I had hoped. I'm just trying to say what I know now, what I had to learn to cease the circling. Words may be all I have, but that I won't have them if I have unbelief in Christ.
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