chaos reformed

Rain has an interesting effect on me. It's therapeutic, yet depressing. Or maybe therapy needs to be depressing in order for me to make any progress...

At the very least, rain allows me to be honest.

And when I am honest with myself, I realize that I hate a lot of things:

the tension in my own head
the lack of structure in my mind
the inconsistencies in my actions
and my selfish thoughts that progress into envy, jealousy, and pride.

I hate all of these things. And this hatred only furthers the chaos...
Chaos leads to more hatred. And hatred furthers the chaos.

This chaotic lens which I look through can often distort my view of the good things in life...Ultimately, it leads to my hatred of the good along with the bad.

I see through hatred, which started from my own selfish tendencies. And now I have trouble seeing the good. And for some reason, I have cried out. Why? And to whom? I don't really know...but I have learned to lament...To cry. To search. To Reason. To yearn.

Although cries are not often pleasant, I am convinced that lamenting is good. I am convinced that being heard is necessary for humanity to progress. The earth needs the rain. And i need to cry.

As ridiculous as that may sound...the vicious cycle can only be made beautiful through something else...

PEACE.

I find some peace in my lament and in my cry.

As the earth is made anew through rain...may we be made new through honest reflection and lament. May our tears not be in vain. May our cries be heard.

the book

without facebook, i am forced to communicate:

creatively
genuinely
consistently
confidently

and even, dare i say...publicly.

but dammit, i want to look at people's photos and bumper stickers!

one week without facebook was enough for now...

peculiar bill

My friend Bill is an older man whom has recently decided he wants the peace that his religious friends have. So, we talk about lots of things which rarely have any solution or satisfying end to them.

We talk about the trinity, and the legalization of marijuana, and ideal political systems. We talk about love, and murder, and hypocrisy. We also talk about beer, and cigars, and youth culture.

I love Bill because he cares about me, and he is yearning for something bigger than himself. He yearns for a coherent way to look at the universe, but one that is not afraid of science or God or other views.

Bill told me he thinks I am peculiar because I "have lots of vectors of thought going in and out of my mind"...and my head has not exploded, nor has it imploded. I hope he is not predicting something catastrophic...

My talks with Bill have helped me to understand human beings in a beautiful way. Bill has taught me to love everyone, not just the people we like or are like. Rather, my talks with Bill have taught me to love those that believe dumb things, and even those whom believe dangerous things.

Bill has shown me what Jesus is like. Not because he has everything figured out like Jesus does...but because Bill says whatever the hell he wants...and he gets away with it because he loves everyone.

I hope my life is full of conversations with lovely people like Bill...

People who love everyone...and seek something bigger than themselves...

But, if by chance, I run into the type of people who don't think like Bill...

Maybe I will love them no matter what...and maybe Bill will think that is "peculiar".

peace on earth

I have a bad memory. Like really bad. I forget names, places, and pretty much anything that could be of use to me...

I usually forget really embarrassing things like people's names, immediately after I meet them. And then I am made even more socially awkward the next time we meet, as I am forced to call she or he "buddy", "pal", or "dude." It's just unpleasant for everyone involved.

But what really frustrates me, is that I have forgotten so many funny stories. So many life-changing thoughts. So many feel-good moments have simply been lost...

My memories are gone. This is horrible.

However, today something really neat happened.

I was taking a dangerously hot shower, which was partly in response to the fact that our house is a brisk 50 degrees (result of poor college kid status), but mostly because I love showers that almost scald me.

Anyways, I was singing in the shower, as everyone should, and I had a lot of thoughts running through my mind...

I was switching back and forth from my favorite old hymn, "Come thou fount", and Ben Harper's "With my own two hands." These songs have been on my mind for the last couple of weeks...and I was kinda jumping back and forth from one to the other...

"I can make peace on earth...With my own two hands.
I can clean up the earth...With my own two hands.
I can reach out to you...With my own two hands.
With my own, With my own two hands."

"O to grace how great a debtor
daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here's my heart, O take and seal it,
seal it for thy courts above."

These beautiful songs became personal. I was suddenly thinking about my "wandering", my "heart", my "hands". Next thing you know, memories are floating around my head...

One really vivid memory of my childhood is that of my father pushing me on our swing set. He built the swing set in our back yard. I loved that swing set. Even more, I loved being pushed by my father. He would hold tight at first, pulling me back. Then, with a burst of speed, push me high into the air...flying free, yet still safe and secure because my father was there...

Although, not my unique idea, I picture God as my Father. I understand God in comparison to the relationship I have with my father. He holds me tight. He pushes me beyond where I would otherwise go. And he is always there.

Swinging through life...

I found a memory, or maybe it found me. Either way, I am different because of it.