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Saturday, 11 July 2009

---- switchfoot

Wonder if she knows
The way I saw her soul
Light up my life
Wonder if she knows
of the pain I feel tonight
'Cause I want someone to share my smile
To share the pain
To be there when the sea turns gray
To share the joy
For better or worse
And I thought that it might have been her
I thought that it might have been her

-----------------------

I really like the line "be there when the sea turns grey". I've seen the sea turned grey, but it was okay there was no one around, I didn't suffer too much. It's still a nice line though.

I've been happy without people lately. Been less dependent on having someone there when I'm sad. Not finding strength in myself either.

I wonder what is the line between just sounding like I am pretending to be joyful and really truly being joyful. For moods just go up and down all the time. At the same time, what is the line between being telling other people I am thankful to God, and just sounding like I am trying to demonstrate faith. Anyway, i am thankful.

For God not giving me more than i can bear. I thought the other day, what would happen if I went insane. I started seeing things, I stopped paying attention to reality or logic. Would I still be thankful to God. After all, I think something about complete insanity goes into my deepest fears. I watched this batman clip where the joker sent robin insane and it was sort of disturbing. How can faith function when your mind has no capacity to grasp who God is? Perhaps even positioning oneself as God?

I don't know. It's sort of weird because already our faculties (as finite beings) are not capable of comprehending our infinite God. Yet imagine if we became even more finite ? Or I guess, our ability for abstract thought was shrunk. If all we could think of was "sleep, eat, play". Can we still know love? Can we still know the love of our Father.

That's probably an important thing to think about when teaching children. we teach them expecting them one day to comprehend it on a level that we can.. I have to say, I doubt that any of us actually can comphrehend it on any sufficient level.

So where does that leave us, with levels? Maybe no levels, only humility. Recognising our place with God, recognising our place before God.

I can't condemn you, I love you too much

Desert girl
Her eyes of amber, loosened bark
Flickering, hiding heat and night
Her long hair caught me with its light

I was so dark and she burned bright
So I'd follow her, though evening crept,
Believing she blossomed strength inside
Those noonday eyes, as we had wept

Her tears had pooled to glittering wastelands
Where jackals ripped and tore her breath
To grinning skulls and bloodied shirts
Her sapphires bleeding ruby death

Those eyes had closed, as we had wept
I was a jackal, she was the vein
So I'd follow her, though evening crept
But she never looked at me again

She led me broken, between two pillars
She placed my hands on each one's side
She said to push the pillars down
Without a god, without a guide

Then I could see, then I could feel
I left her weeping drops of stone
Away, I thought I'd won until
When I didn't hold those pillars still
They fell, and I bent to her will

Friday, 10 July 2009

I can't condemn you, I love you too much
Smears of change across your face
Your light has dimmed and died
Now its missing from your eyes

In the whites: blurred, shifting stains
What principles carved into your hands
Rewritten into dramatic lines

"I can't help it, it's just time"
"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine, really"
"It's something I just have to do."

And recognition, biting savagely
Parading with banners, slowly leaving
All my judgment wronged
And all my judgment wrong.

"What are you?"

(note to self, finish reading this later)
http://books.google.com.au/books?id=kYIWabBxsA4C&pg=PA33&lpg=PA33&source=bl&ots=Zw3Kqw5sBJ&sig=yViQiNcGsZa4p2xikO0o5AIacQ8&hl=en&ei=Vu5VSuqeM4vQsQP9srX0AQ&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=6

Monday, 06 July 2009

Lord, teach me to listen. The times are noisy and my ears are weary with the thousand raucous sounds which continuously assault them. Give me the spirit of the boy Samuel when eh said to Thee, "Speak, for thy servant heareth". Let me hear Thee speaking in my heart. Let me get used to the sound of Thy voice, that its tones may be familiar when the sounds of earth die away and the only sound will be the music of Thy speaking voice.
- Tozer.

I realised that in some way, the relationships we are given around us are put in place by God, just like authorities are put in place by God.
I realised that quite possibly it is not my place to write off friendships on the whim on my emotion.

So God willing, I will try not to.

Thursday, 02 July 2009

Perhaps when it comes down to it, all our thoughts are just patterns, and our behaviour is just patterns. To keep moving towards change becomes a little bit futile, a little too corrupt to stand when the world itself doesn't seem to be changing. At least, not at a rate I can see it. Maybe I should read the news more to make each day a little bit more unique.

But if I went back over my xanga entries I suppose within that would be change. That could justify everything! Everything.

I forget to keep my drawers shut. I forget to pack my clothes away. I forget to wash my clothes. I forget to put my clothes in the laundry basket. I forget that I haven't done any of the aforementioned activities, and then I have nothing left to wear. But none of the real stuff that people care about is found in any of those forgotten activities. The only things people care about is in the memories. The remembered.

No one wants to know if I have done something that has been done before. The historical records of people who have forgotten to wash their clothes would no longer be historical records. So, so much of my life just isn't witnessed, or noticed. Not even by me. Maybe by God? God, do you remember the things I forget.

I always think its a waste, whenever people over-glorify the diaries of children that have had really sudden, famous deaths. Just because they're gone, doesn't make their thoughts any more important. Before they died no one would have cared. What about all those people who have died before, at an old age, who will never have their childhood thoughts written down or remembered by anyone!

Am I Standing Still?

Wistful and grieving
You waited, I watched.
Wilder, a forest, detesting all earth
You were lovely, stretching out on that chair
Lying, still, fixed to that bench
Withering, and rusting, storming the clouds
Your turbulent spirit, your face in the lake
Your fear

Have you noticed,
There's statues that breathe water down
Their marble arms held out to the sun
That brilliantly spill all the hatred down.

Now dusty clouds have filled the basin
With reddish, brackish, opaque hate.
Swirling, as I plunge my hands
Beneath, as nails fix blood to palms
That line my hands with whatever psalms
You hear

If the chair is shadowed
By your wretched arm, or pearly gloss
It'll hold the depth of Atlantis' charm
And 'neath dimming moonlight, you will leave
In the air of shrieking violins
That grips your gaze and rips your smile
From a suit, to a shirt, to your jewelled neck
It's Hades parading down your spine
You offer that hand because you believe
Your ice-cold joy is mine

Wednesday, 01 July 2009

Will you hold me sacred?
will you hold me tight?
Can you colorize my life I'm so sick of black and white?
Can you make it a little less old?

After a while you'll forget everything,
It was a brief interlude, And a midsummer night's fling,
And you'll see that it's time to move on

I know the territory - I've been around,
It'll all turn to dust and we'll all fall down,
And sooner or later you'll be screwing around

- Meat loaf "I'd do anything for love"