05/25/2017

Response. That’s important. We intake so much beauty, inspiration, and insight. We ought to respond to it all. But how? What do you say about the ocean, what words, what poems, what portraits can you paint of a new soul? As we discover what ignites us at night and calms us during the storm, how can we possibly begin to choose actions that will satisfy our longing to respond. I am rendered incapable of expressing in full my need for love. As I have been home for nearly a month now, I feel a sort of strength returning. It’s mostly a mental strength or perhaps it’s emotional, distinguishing between those two realms can become a blurred attempt for a person like me. However the strength given through love is all around me in this season.

 “To be known and to know”, isn’t there a line somewhere about that being one of the most precious actions in life? Well.. I’d buy it. I’d take it by the dozen and share it with all of my friends…that truth I mean. To be known (and loved because of what is known) is unlike anything else in life. To look another human in the eye, with so much history and so much time behind you, having hurt eachother just as many times as you’ve saved one another. To grab their hand and listen to their story, to hear how the world has treated them since you last met, such things can fill you with a deepness that is hardly comparable to most other delights in life.

I’d listen to her talk forever. Every word, every thought, every snide remark… They have never failed to catch my ear. Her inability to compromise, it’s a sort of character trait. She flows through life needing very few, and as  time continues, as we repair the brittle concrete built so many years ago, we find it is no less strong. The rain of life acted not as water to concrete but more as the minerals that create and bind the Rock and sand together in the first place. She is so much more to me than a person. She is air-like comfort, she is the sort of inspiration that artists search for.

But that is people after all.

Their hearts are what we are after.

How to properly describe another souls effect on our own becomes complicated when we are using our mere bodies to do it.

Learn how to understand another’s soul within your soul, and I believe you will have experienced the greatest pleasure in life.

.:T O R I :.

Reasons why I count you a blessing: The list might be short but the content is dense. If every word mattered I would write you a trillion. But darling, my dear, my strong house and shield, You remind me what living and loving can yield. You sip that red poison with absolute grace, and listen to my ramblings with a constant smile on your face. Never judging, always thinking, always warning but never sinking to the deep ends of my thoughts that often defeat me. You point me like a star in the best of directions accepting my change without any hesitations. I love you, your care and your semi-cool tude, because kindness isn’t fake, it’s not a bubble wrapped up mood. Kindness is much deeper and it runs in your veins, when you  choose love for those who repel it, this is how kindness remains. All our runs, all our chats, our giggles and woes …have led me to see you truly, in your highs and lows. 

Time can be like a marathon. But it’s not the sort of thing you can train for. 

In the marathon of life time has the power. She ticks, steady and surely as she passes. At moments you beg her to slow down. 

We cry when we don’t have enough time, pounding our bodies against cold cement screaming questions that inevitably posses a total of zero answers. 

Time dictates our lives: when we sleep, when we eat, when it is safe to be born… When we might be at peace about dying. 

Time. 

Sometimes we beat her, outwit her with our creams and diets. 

We multitask, increasing our sidewalk-walking pace. 

We bike instead of walk, fly instead of drive. 

Most of the time we are just running against her, damaging our muscles and souls in order that she might not meet us before we are ready.

We rush into relationships we aren’t ready for because we can feel the pressure of her ticking in our ear. 

We travel places we don’t really want to see because they tell us, ‘it’s once in a lifetime’ and that, ‘there will never be a better time’. 

We divide her, time I mean, into priorities. 

30 minutes of meditation, 45 minutes of Netflix, 75 minutes at the gym. 

And at the end of the day, week, year, season, we ask her… Where did you go? 

We were so busy trying to beat her that we forgot to watch her, experience her. 

Have you ever experienced time, the feeling of a minute or an hour. 

It’s a precious thing, time is. 
In a different world we will know what it means to be infinite, not finite, not limited to space or time. We will stare at people, or souls or whatever form others may take, and we will never think about the passing of time. 

No longer will we grey and wither. No longer will our minds fail us, as we see the younger become stronger all the while we become weaker. 

But for now, I want to feel time. I want to know her pressure and embrace her length. Knowing how blissful and awful a single minute can be. We have created a system as a way to measure moments, however to remember is this: moments are eternal. But while we can point to time-  her years and months; a moment will far outlast  measurements. A moment that begins in a minute can grow in the secret places within us forever. 

“Why wait till tomorrow, when I can have you today” – WR

Life isn’t going to begin for it has begun. 

Your song is being sung.

Your light may grow brighter but it shall unquestionably grow dim. 

If we could control our mind we might find understanding. 

If we could teach ourselves focus we could hope to truly grasp. 

As it is we wait. 

Sometimes with hope, but mostly with fear. .

For you are greater than we, and your ways are unknown to our simple nature.

In striving we seize to believe. 

In trusting we begin to let go.

“I keep having dreams about the ocean,” I said as I stirred my eggs.

“Are you on a boat? Are you surrounded by sharks… “

No – no I’m on the beach, looking out at the ocean watching the waves

That’s a safe place to be”  he said.

Looking out and admiring the power of the ocean as she thrusts herself against the shore instills much inspiration. But he was right, it’s a safe place to be. When your feet are  being lifted by her power, when her might twirls your body around and forces your lungs to scream for air. When her bitter coldness creates warmth in your veins, that is when more than inspiration you discover, reverence.

Sensitive, why am I so sensitive?  

There are moments when the truth can sting you. 

We make agreements with ourselves, embracing reality or so we think; by denying its impact on us. 

We are the ones who are supposed to show love. 

Because He died, because we are forgiven we must forgive, like some sort of reverse karma.

And really it makes sense. I’m not criticizing the structure that I’ve accepted. I’m just saying sometimes it’s (really) hard. 

It’s hard because glares can make you feel shaky, and snide remarks can knock the thought out of you. 

A person constantly assuming the worst of you eventually brings out the worst in you. 

And when this is drawn out you start to loath not just them, but yourself. 

Aren’t I better? 

I should be better. 

The lack of grace I have experienced has drawn me to hopelessness. 

There’s no hope for this, there’s no hope for you. 

And I’m not allowed to give up on people, we are not allowed to give up on people. 

So instead I separate myself, because from afar I can pray, but up close I am consumed with insecurities. 

And my prayers and good wishes have been more genuine that way. 

Whether you believe in a sort of God, or the universes’ currents- I think all can agree that words have more meaning to God and the universe when there’s some genuine feeling behind them. 

And when I pray I love. I do. 

At one time I told people how much they meant to me, my young 17 year old self used to fall into tears when I would try and express the thankfulness I had for those who had brought me in when I had no one, when I was most afraid. 

But in the last years these confessions have been met with criticism, If you care so much why don’t you show it? So in a large way I’ve stopped this practice. 

And I’ve started to doubt my own care because of their words. 

And maybe I don’t care. 

After all.. You have better insight into who I am than I do.  

more of you, less of me – this might be my most earnest of pleas

“All I have because of Jesus”

She asked what she could pray for, I hesitated and eventually responded, “could you ask the God would draw near, that He would make Himself known throughout this season”. I often forget to look for God, but even more often I forget to ask Him to appear, I forget to express my need for Him. Thinking about it now, I suppose that is not something we commonly do. We tell those we love how we feel about them, but there have been few times that I have looked a loved one in the eye and told them the ways I need them. In fact if I’m being honest I more often try to do just the opposite, I want them to believe I’d be okay without them. How long have I been playing this game with God? How long have I been trying to prove that I don’t need spiritual motivation to continue to walk this path. What a wicked and dangerous game independence is.

How it must seep and drown poison into the veins of our relational pulses.

God forgive our inequities. In this season may we not just LOOK for you, but even more so may we be willing to express our need for you. May our hearts be humbled to cry out to you for more. I need more of you God, there is never a point in this faith or in this life where we arrive. Death alone will bring us to the closeness we so desire, in the meantime Father may we strive for more and more of you. May I never be satisfied Lord, not when it comes to you.

With love,

Nicole

7 months.

Have you ever counted your life in months?

I haven’t until now. I feel like my entire life split seven months ago, that’s a scary thing to admit. I can remember when my family fell apart, I can remember phone calls from my dad about reality shifting news, I can remember moves, endings and beginnings of semesters and job proposals.

Somehow even through all these moments the only split in my life seems to be the very first time I wandered away from home. I used to count the months that I had lived away from my family. The time that passed seemed to be completely different than the years before it. I’d call it the pre-grad and post-grad eras. That’s typically dramatic for me, as if moving away was comparable to some sort of social revolution in a history text book,  that some how have the authority to split time into nice little titled seditions.

But nothing else had ever divided the past in my mind, not until seven months ago. I entered into a new era seven months ago, I’m not sure i want to label it, because at this point it would be something terribly uncreative and probably fairly embarrising.

I was faced with life, or rather, I’ve been facing life the past few months. It started seven months ago and has only stegthened in its ripping current. Decisions. That’s what life is about, I usually wait and pray hoping that God will just thrust me towards something new, towards whatever it is He decides I’m best suited for. But this year I’ve been seeing him holding options out for me and gently guiding me towards cross roads, “I want you to choose”. That’s the constant whispering my heart has heard. “You need to make this call, from there I will direct”.

Confidence. Three years ago I was prayed over, again and again the word confidence surfaced. My professors, my employers, my friends have throughout my life yelled/whispered/gently guided me towards this same word. Confidence.

So seven months ago I was forced to make choices, some I’m still waiting on. Some I feel settled in.

What is so fantastic is that someone else’s adventure, the kind that splits your life, can also be claimed in some regards as your adventure. This 11 months is a lot about learning to be OK alone. Without one particular human being there for every moment. God is good, He knows what he is doing, which means when he hands over the wheel and tells me to make a turn, He knows what He is doing.

There are four more months until I enter into a new phaze of life, so I will breathe and rest in the waiting and in the simple living.

My heart hurts a bit.

Jesus was a man. 

He breathed, he walked, he talked. 

He wept.

He prayed, he taught, he healed. 

He forgave.

He died, he rose, he ascended. 

He loved. 

He shows me how to love.
We complicate this faith, we turn it into words and writings. We muddle our way through opinions and scripture, seeking truth that will fit us the way Jesus seems to. We want a religion that fills us  as love does. We believe in His love, but struggle with His teachings. We believe He died, we believe He rose again, we believe He was brought up to heaven leaving us with His spirit that we may give to others  the type of love He gave us. But we can’t trust Him to forgive our mothers, our fathers, or sisters and brothers. We don’t trust Him to be just. We think we care more for our friends than He, but if they call us we screen our phones.. We fall busy and forget them for days. Jesus doesn’t forget them. He listens when they call, day or night..night or day He listens. 

We are but human. 

We breathe, we walk. 

We cry. 

We try to pray, we youth lead and mentor.

We hold grudges as often as we forgive. 

We sin and lead others into sin. 

But we love, maybe not perfectly, but we still love. 

We will die. 

And HE will help us to rise, HE will teach us how to ascend. 

Show us how to love. 

😶

Far away, you fly.

Like the leafs as they float. 

Your direction is simultaneously sporadic and controlled. 

But your mind is lost. 

In places 

People

And dreams. 

And sometimes I wonder, do you feel a flame?

When you see her.. do you feel a sort of flame?

Does she remind you of your legal  name?

What you want and what you need, 

Allow them to change.

It’s my earnest plea,

That you wouldn’t care 

That you would just leave, 

So that if possible you might one day see

The sea. 

The sea. 

The ocean and breeze. 

It’s waves, I promise they offer a sort of key. 

But.. Those thoughts. 

Fucking thoughts. 

The thoughts you learnt once you left,

That passion we felt,

Nothing  held can ever be kept. 

And you see her, 

Where you used to see me. 

But now you see her

And she knows nothing of the sea. 

So I go, 

And you stay where the ground is grey. 

But your thoughts remain gold, 

For you’ve always been told…

It is her

She’s the kind, the type you desire



And I was but a wave, 

A wave with heart. 

A heart you broke..

A heart which is now nothing but parts.

A part, ONE part

A part of a life

A life that I chased 

A life that  I caught. 

And what they told me, 

You already taught, 

Don’t love it’s a trap, 

Now you’ll never come back.