Outdoors, take one

The perfect day

is one of lovely temperature

awash with sunshine

and the sounds of of Spring.

Melodies Playing in my Head

Star gazing in the cold, silently loud night 

Melodies playing in my head 

Eyes searching for a shooting star 

We yearn to touch, taste, smell. 

My skin—tingles. 

Fluttering butterfly wings tap dance across my skin 

Possibilities 

Our lazy eyes are 

Difficult 

To keep open, 

And 

I could sleep here, on the grass near you, 

The sounds of silence whisper in my ear 

Melodies play on in my head 

The gentle breeze numbs the toes 

The fountains silently work their magic 

Possibilities 

Unknown, untested, 

Waiting, wishing, watching 

And we touch, taste, smell. 

Tingling skin 

The grass is cold, yet I am warm 

Eyes slowly close 

Fingers entwine 

Possibilities 

Endless 

Possibilities 

Fluttering butterfly wings tap dance across my skin 

Gentle fingers slowly search, 

Soft lips carefully find. 

Possibilities 

Melodies playing in my head: 

Butterfly kisses; gentle tap dances across my skin.

 

Darkness of Sound

I can’t think in this mess
I can’t repair 

With this darkness 

Of sound 

This incessant clashing of brain and heart 

The nagging of unfinished business 

A life incomplete 

I let it slip away 

Turn from gold to dust in my hands 

I watched it 

Unaware 

Now I cannot go back 

To do what I left undone 

To say what I left unsaid 

To love what I left unloved 

For this darkness 

Of sound 

This incessant clashing of brain and heart 

Won’t allow it 

And all I can hear 

Is the beating 

of my mislead heart

God is an artist

Inspired by a comment I made below in an interview about my photos....

God is an artist

 I think God is an artist. I mean, look around. Go outside, smell the air after a thunderstorm. Stare at the stars from the top of a mountain, listen to a brook or the ocean’s waves crashing on a beach. Feel the wind dance across your skin in the autumn, taste a handful of water from a fresh spring. All of that is art. We are art. Watch a baby take tiny steps, listen to the laughter of old friends. God is an artist, and everything around us points back to Him. If He is the master artist, and we are made in His image, well then…art can teach us a lot about Him, and ourselves. Christians should first take a second to realize the art that surrounds them, the beauty we so often take for granted. We don’t “need” to do anything but praise God for his glory. If we take joy in His creation, that will point people to Christ. Simply noticing God around us will make all the difference.

 

God is an artist 

The sand between our toes 

The moss beneath our feet 

The tulips that wave their hello to the sunny sky 

Your laughter 

My smile 

The way our fingers entwine 

The drumbeat of our hearts 

Sweet smell of a summer’s rain 

Autumn’s restless rustle 

The Big Dipper, always in line with the North Star 

A symphony of sound 

Cascades around me 

The brook 

Which dances its hello 

Around smooth rocks 

Aged but ageless 

And time swirls away and I cannot keep track 

Of the way my spirit soars 

Or the hours I lose, 

Lost in pure joy and awe 

And my hand 

Is art 

My knobby knees, bony elbows, pudgy toes that I won’t let people see 

The wind which kisses my cheek 

As the sun caresses my shoulders 

And the clean, mountain air makes me feel so alive 

Suddenly it’s clear 

In the baby’s smile 

First steps, first laugh 

In my mother’s laughter 

My father’s eyes 

We are art, 

I am a masterpiece 

Bound by eternal, unconditional love 

Agape   

God is a comedian 

The awkward giraffe baby bends its lanky knees to test the grass with his tongue 

The huge hippo twitches its tiny ear, pretending to be nimble 

The fat puppies squirm their full tummies in the grass, desperate to romp in the sunshine 

I watch a penguin attempt to walk 

Swaggering 

The brown duck’s waddle 

Just look at a platypus, or 

A llama—hairy, wooly—as it spits in someone’s face 

And it snows 4 inches in April but melts by 11:00 am because temperatures raise to 78 F 

And I laugh in wonder 

Or hysterics 

And you laugh with me 

The fat barrel dog in North Carolina that made me cry tears of hilarity 

Interrupting Thanksgiving dinner 

The way cats get puffy tails when scared 

A dog thinking its own foot is trying to steal the bone from its mouth 

Your silly jokes 

Laughing 

Aching 

Can’t catch my breath 

As I wonder at the world 

And the things in it 

Art 

Beautiful 

Hysterical 

Made by the great master himself 

God is an artist 

And I 

Well, I am art. 

Photos

I love photography. Here are some pictures I took in Belize and Cozumel. Below is an interview with the friend--a short Q and A session, if you will. Hopefully this blog will let me upload pictures? 

 

 One in Four

1 of 4 is a picture I took in Belize. I titled it that because the entire country only has 4

stoplights, all of which are in the actual city of Belize. Only 3 of those stoplights work,

and this was one of them. I also like this picture because it shows people going about

their lives.

 The Wanderer

 

 The Wanderer is actually me 

 on the top of this huge Mayan ruin. I love this picture.

I think it portrays how we question the meaning of things and we stand on the brink of

understanding it all.

Belize

Belize is a great picture of line. I like it because I generally take pictures of nature, or things

that are falling down. Here, it shows that man-made things can still be beautiful, even if 

they are not portraying poverty or God's creation.

 Mayan Temple

Mayan Temple is a picture of the steps in the Mayan ruin. I am fascinated by the subtly of the 

rocks and crevices. 

 Fences

Fences is also from Belize. The country is a third-world country, and I wanted to capture

a picture of their wealth. This was the wealthy section of town; they have power lines and

the ability to have fences around their yards.

 Winding Ancient Stair

Winding Ancient Stair is from an ancient Mayan temple in Belize. The name of the photo

is actually a part of a poem I like by Yeats. The poem is about the conflict 

between self and soul. I thought it was an apt name for this picture.

 Lonely Warf

Lonely Warf--I think if I had to chose a favorite, I would finally decide on this one. I love

this picture, because I love the water, and the different emotions it can give off and the

connection you can have with it. I also love the use of line, and the difference between

the hard, crooked ways of the warf and the lines of the pavement. Kind of like our relationship

with God--the weather shapes us, some might call it different, but I call it beautiful

 One Lonely Tree

One Lonely Tree is also from a poem. I think it is aptly named, for this tree was the lone tree

in this field we passed. 

INTERVIEW:

What inspired you to take these pictures?

I love photography, and take any chance I can to use it as a creative outlet. I also try to have my pictures tell a story. I want to capture something that inspires someone, or makes people think or portrays an emotion.

 

Do you believe that a picture can (pardon the cliché) “speak a thousand words”? Why?

No. Due to inflation, a picture is now worth 7,621 words. (I can’t actually pretend like that quote is mine. I saw it on a photography site and laughed.) But in all seriousness, yes. I think the eyes might be the most important sense, at least to me. My interpretation of the environment and basically life in general is about 72% from my eyes. If you can capture a moment, it’s not just worth a thousand words; it’s priceless. That moment is never coming back.

 

Where were you when you took these photos?

I think most, if not all, of these shots are from when I was in Belize.

 

Why are these photos significant to you?

Because I love art. It is a vital part of humanity, and these photos tell a story or inspire emotions that God has given us. I think it’s good to expand your horizons and learn about unknown things, or stare at photographs, being quiet and letting yourself feel what the picture holds.

 

What can art convey that words cannot?

Art is a reflection of life. I do think words hold a power, but perhaps other types of art—visual, dancing, music, and theatrical—hold even more power? I’m not sure. But I know that a poem is just as artistic as a photograph, or a ballerina dancing. Perhaps art holds more power because sometimes it is more engaging. Really good art gets down into you, you know? Under your skin. It tingles in your fingertips and creates a tug on your heart and a feeling in your gut. It stirs emotions within us.

 

Do you believe that art teaches us something about God? How can Christians better use art to point people to Christ?

 

Yes. 100%. I think God is an artist. I mean, look around. Go outside, smell the air after a thunderstorm. Stare at the stars from the top of a mountain, listen to a brook or the ocean’s waves crashing on a beach. Feel the wind dance across your skin in the autumn, taste a handful of water from a fresh spring. All of that is art. We are art. Watch a baby take tiny steps, listen to the laughter of old friends. God is an artist, and everything around us points back to Him. If He is the master artist, and we are made in His image, well then…art can teach us a lot about Him, and ourselves. Christians should first take a second to realize the art that surrounds them, the beauty we so often take for granted. We don’t “need” to do anything but praise God for his glory. If we take joy in His creation, that will point people to Christ. Simply noticing God around us will make all the difference.

My Good News Is

My good news is that I am alive. I am here, experiencing the smells, tastes, and sights of a wonderful and complex world. My good news is that I can laugh. I can cry. I can smile. I can dance. My good news us a joy that cannot be taken away. My good news is laughter on my lips, a smile in my heart, a song in my ear. My good news is sunshine and flowers, the ocean, puppies playing, a gentle breeze. My good news is family. friends. SLU. Learning.

My good news is being in love. Dancing carefree. Laying in the sunshine. My good news is nature. Walking along a babbling brook, hiking to the top of a mountain. My good news is the smell of spring, the touch of the sun on my skin, the water swirling its hello beside me. My good news is closing my eyes and liking who I am and where I am going. My good news is coming home, and also coming back to SLU. My good news is the ability to choose to love every moment. My good news letting go and letting God. Loving people. My good news is the desire to never stop learning. My good news is curiosity for life. My good news is that I am alive. I am alive! I am oh-so-alive.

Things SLU

SLU (Saint Louis University) is an old sweatshirt. SLU is my comfortable pair of sandals, the ones that have formed perfectly to every groove of my feet. SLU is the smell of my house after I've been gone for 3 months. SLU is a hug from an old friend, a tingle in the pit of your stomach when you share a smile with a stranger. SLU is your favorite pair of jeans that fit jst right, soft and slightly worn from hundreds of washes. SLU is family. SLU is friends. SLU is experience. SLU is comfort, like a homecooked meal. SLU is 74 and sunny, even when it's 10 degrees outside. SLU welcomes me with the fountains, flowers, smiling faces. SLU is home away from home. 

Insignificant People

Topic from class: Who are the insignificant people in/around you?

As much as I hate it, the are a lot of people around me who I deem insignificant. And how dare I? Who am I, a small speck in the great sands of the universe, a short thread in the tapestry of life, to deem others insignificant? How dare I? Theirs is a life filled with hopes, dreams, heartache, troubles, joys, sorrows, just as mine.

And I wonder who I am insignificant for.

How many people see me without really looking, does anyone hear me and take the time to listen?

Often, or rather sometimes, I experience moments when I think about how insignificant I am in the Great Scheme of things. I'm just me. And sure, I help people, I love with wild abandon and seek to expand my horizon and give back some of this joy that overflows in my heart, but really, I'm just one. There are times when I think about how many people there are in the world, and I am just one. One who is privledged and one who is blessed, yet still one. And then I think, "But he loves me still. If the world were empty and I were the only one left, He still would have died for me." And my heart soars with the knowledge that I am significant. I am important! I am loved. 

And it's just me, here, living a life where I reach out to all the other significant people around me, and try to show them their own significance. 

A poem...

I hear

Many songs

rushing flowing ebbing

intricate layers

untold loss heartache woe

inexplicable joy

the sun greets me

and the wind asks to dance

the tulips are still sleeping but growing closer to waking

the ocean, hundreds of miles away,

roars in my ears, and I can almost taste it

eyes

bright cheerful alive

red itchy tired broken

crying sleeping

a bloody nose

winking down from a velvet blue sky

the moon reminds me of Big Band music

I waltz alone

for the poor are too tired

the broken too busy

picking up the pieces of their lives

and i am an actor

open

letting the emotions flow freely within

and i am a dancer

tiptoeing

a dance upon eggshells

and i am a singer

crying

my blues into a deaf audience

and i am a painter

fresh

depicting what I know, what I wish

and i am a child

bold

awed by the freshness and ingenuity of life

and i am an old woman

wise

missing the past, scared of change, loss

and i am a poet

alive

capturing images and feeding them to my heart

and i am you

and we are an audience

demanding others to act

but we are the actors

stuck

the dancers, hiding

the singer, mute

the painter, forgotten

the young, afraid

the old, silent

the poet, lost

waiting for opportunity to come find us

yet missing him when he arrives in an unexpected hat

and the tulips sleep

and the songs soar

and my heart beats

and i am alive

i am an actor

and i waltz alone

come, dance with me, with the wind

Hello, old friend

Wow, I haven't blogged in awhile. Not like I was so "committed" to this blog before. But that's all about to change. First, mainly because of James Canfield, my left half. He's wonderful, talented, funny, charming...the list goes on. Basically, we complete each other in the friendship realm. Anyway, he has started a blog (here's the link:) and it's fantastic and now I am inspired anew to come back to my own blog.

Another reason I am coming back to my old friend, this blog, is because I am taking the best class of my life, social justice, with Dr. Chmiel at SLU. It's my ultimate favorite class, hands down. I love it because we get to be real. The students all know each other's names (and many of us have never met before). We share life lessons, stories, reactions to things we read, and we write. We write in these lovely little composition books, and we can say whatever we want, because the comp books are for us. We look at important issues, like the war in Iraq, but we also share funny moments, times when we feel/see love. I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in social justice. Anyway, being in this class and writing in my notebook has re-awakened my love of writing. I'll probably post some things I write in that notebook. And I am okay if no one likes what I write, or cares about what I write, or thinks the things I write are trash. That's okay! Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. And I'm not writing for you (to be quite blunt). I'm writing for me. For the way it makes me feel to create.