The drama of creation outside my plane window earlier on. Thankful for the past four months and so beyond thankful to finally come home for a bit :’)
I didn’t make a decision two years ago. I deliberately chose not to choose. I let things sit, I let myself sit on the fence and only got comfortable sitting there, forgetting how it would have pricked my butt. And this might have been one of the things in the basket of God’s will for me, and He gave me two years as I sat on this fence. And now it’s all gone, Lord. I let it slip through my fingers, that is just it, I really don’t think there’s more to add to this.
But I tell myself that that’s okay, You had given me ample time to choose but I just chose not to, and that’s okay. I’m calmly telling myself this and I’m just a watermelon gummy away from believing it. I will find another direction under this will of Yours for me, and I promise myself, Lord, this time I will choose. This time I have to choose. I either choose a yes or a no, but I will choose and not regret anything.
What do you do if your heart is in a perpetual state of longing?
And what do you do if the frightening thing is that you realise the subject of desire is not just one, not two, but many, and constant, and never-ending? Not greed, but somewhere inbetween fickle and distracted?
Today I miss you. But last week I was missing her, and a month ago, another her. I know that I will continue missing you tomorrow and the day after, but perhaps not in a month, but I might miss you again in two months. Another day I was thinking about another you, and the next day another you; in and out, out and in. Oh my mind,
Is my love really like the morning mist, like the early dew that disappears? Is this heart the result of our instantly gratified society, the short attention span we all boast of, this schizophrenia of short-circuited thoughts and emotions?
I don’t know if I’m tired of it all yet. I might be, one day. But maybe since these thoughts seem to never plateau, I might never be tired. There is always another thought waiting to distract the current one. Yet the more I type, the more it seems that this all could possibly be a trap from the evil one. His lesson on indecisiveness and the hell awaiting my mind at the end of it all. Yes, possibly, I might get weary from all these one day.
Like many people with a fondness for volunteering intimate information, anything that suggested a direct question, a pinning-down, put her on guard."
“It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.
I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me.
When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic.
No rhetoric, no tremolos,
no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
And of course, no theology, no metaphysics.
Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.
So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling,
on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag,
All that being said, my extreme indecisiveness might just lead Your life in me to its grave. Deliver me, O my Lord.
I’d always seen the 20 year old me as one that was fearful, judgmental, easy, yet unruly in expressing my true opinions about something. But today, looking back (quite frequently as of late), I see something I had never seen or thought of myself as having had before: a young, pure form of courage. I actually DID have a kind of courage and strength which I had fought hard then, to keep alive. I had a voice, had an opinion, and the moral conscience that what he did to me was all wrong. I just hadn’t harboured enough love for myself to put a stop to it then.
Today I look at the almost 23 year old me and realise I have become even more fearful, more judgmental, hard, very hard, but all too careful in anything and everything. In three years I have managed to build a Jericho so thoroughly around my heart and soul and buried the key to the gate so deep that even I myself have forgotten how to retrieve it. Forgotten how to feel with a pure heart, think with a pure heart, express with a pure heart. I am learning now though, what it means to truly love yourself. Maybe I had loved others too much, when I was 20. And now I’m retrieving the grains of my heart I had so freely and carelessly sown onto these un-embracing soils.
Maybe at 23, you begin learning to appreciate yourself for everything you are. Before this you might have compromised on things in a feeble, stupid bid to gain what you thought was acceptance from people who shouldn’t have mattered. But at 23, you begin to breathe life in slowly, embrace your quirks fully, and love others with everything you’ve got, but nothing more which you haven’t got. At 23 you learn not to push yourself where you do not want to go, you learn to find comfort in being yourself, and you start accepting that you really don’t have to make yourself do certain things that you don’t feel like doing. You learn to fully love yourself.
One thing I have learnt about myself from this experience is that I have an immense fear of missing someone. And that my attempts at kicking out all these sentiments of longing work a little too successfully that it scares me slightly. I will contain the tears, I will overcome the heartache, I will channel my mind upon everything else but her/them. (Can I say, by Your grace.)
They say that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay. But is it really?
1. To be happy in everything You allow my hands to create
2. To give to others as I’ve been set apart to, Christ behind me, the source of all my giving
3. To love myself
“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I’m gazing at a distant star. It’s dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn’t even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.”
But I’ve been through this, someone like you, ever ready to give me all of your present time, words, thoughts. But with each thought you lay into our conversations, the past with you increases threefold. You feel like sand slipping through my fingers every time; there is no ounce of permanence or realness to it. Maybe she’s right, you are a mystery. One that I tell her I’ve solved, but deep inside I know I haven’t got a clue as to the troublesome enigma I presently hold in my hands.
Still, you grip me every time. Your selective companionship, my experiences that uncannily echo your own (which you always warn me warily against). Your loneliness - how can one feel so lonely in such a city and with such a personality?
'Thank you God, for letting me pray…'
"We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."
C.S. Lewis (via nonelikejesus)