Thursday, September 29, 2005

Acorn Galore



Originally uploaded by ElseKramer.
'Tis the season to be jolly
Fa la la, la la la...

Take a walk out in the woods, make sure to borrow the trail where the acorns lay, and taste of the goodness of feeling them crunch under your sole.

Autumn is back.

Thinking Out Loud

I was watching "The End of the Affair" the other day, and among other things, something Ralph Fiennes' character narrates stuck with me:

"Pain is easier to write. In pain, we're one drab individual. But what can one write about happiness?"

Songs come easier to me when I want to express a less happy emotion.
My heart breaks and cries out for God when I don't seem to be fitting the mould the circumstances around me have formed.
Pain is easier to write.

This is not always true. Send me out in the middle of nowhere with pen and paper, where nature surrounds, and my worshiping heart will spill out rivers of ink on the sheets of paper.

What I'm really getting at, I suppose, is that right now, everything is pretty fine.
It's a strange place to be at, when God does give you the desires of your heart. I don't want to be left content and stagnate, it's just strange to me when God simply remains faithful to me and His promises.

So I feel like I have nothing to write about. Besides a continual 'thank you'.

University started again on Monday, my weekly 10 hours haven't killed me yet. In fact, I'll be starting a photographic project soon, which sounds exciting. We'll be using a dark room to develop our own pictures and will be taught about photojournalism too, so it all should be rather dandy.

I'm in a new house this year. It's beautiful to be in a house filled with peace, as opposed to last year. It's good to feel at home when you get back to your house.

I was at a friend's "do" last night, for the launch of his first full-length cd. It was touching to see him on stage and be so transparent with his audience; it gave me a new appreciation of him and his music. You can sample some of his stuff right here if you wish to do so.

Autum is right on our doorstep: I can feel its chill and notice its golden tint strewn across the earth and sky.

I was reading an excerpt of Hellen Keller's autobiography which recounts the first time she starts naming the things around her. It reminded me of how used to and blase we can become with our surroundings. I've got my camera by my side as of today, to capture various moments of this season which is sweeping by, like every other year, but is still made up of unique days.

"We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered. Someone was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand, she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motion of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten - a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away. I left the well-house eager to learn. Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house every object which I touched seem to quiver with life."


My ears are currently seduced by: Woodface - Good Morning Hope

Thursday, September 22, 2005

In The Light


Dante's Fire
Originally uploaded by The Blue Girl.
Though My hands are wounded, I've engraved your name on my palm

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Open Endings

Thank you,
For making life beautiful again.

I followed the bread crumbs
Home.


You colour my life in
Outside the lines.

I came chasing after you
Only to see you were holding me first.

Thank you,
For making life beautiful again.

Do It Again

"... It struck me that infancy provides a rare luxury, a quality of specialness that nearly vanishes for the rest of life. Growing up is a ceaseless scramble for attention. Teenagers stay up past midnight cramming for tests, abuse their bodies in torturous athletic regimens, work overtime to afford designer clothes, primp for hours in front of mirrors - all for recognition. Adulthood merely institutionalises the mad rush for achievement. We want desperately to stand out, to be noticed. Meanwhile, an infant need only take a few herky-jerky steps across a living room carpet and his parents and aunts brag about the triumph to all their friends.

The limelight of special attention may re-ignite when time comes for romance. To a lover every mole is cute, every weird hobby a sign of lively curiosity, every sniffle a cause for inordinate pampering. Once again we are blessed with specialness - for a while, anyway, until the tedium of life chases it away.

What happens during fawning parenthood and enrapt courtship offers a sharp contrast to our normal behaviour. We do not step onto a bus and exclaim to the driver, 'I can't believe it! You mean you drive this great big bus all day long, all by yourself! And you never have an accident? That's wonderful!' We do not stop a fellow shopper in the supermarket aisle and gush, 'I'm so proud of you for knowing what brands to pick. There's a huge variety, and yet you go right to the ones you want and put them in your basket and push them around with confidence! Most impressive!' Yet that spirit, absurd when applied to the humdrumness of life, is precisely what we show toward children and lovers. For them, we 'hallow' the ordinary and mundane.

I do not propose that we make fools of ourselves each time we come across a bus driver or a thrifty shopper. But thinking about our treatment of children and lovers did give me further appreciation for some biblical metaphors. More than any other word pictures, God chooses 'children' and 'lovers' to describe our relationship with Him.

Infinity gives God a capacity we do not have: he can treat all of creation with unrelieved specialness. G. K. Chesterton put it this way:

'A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence of life. Because they are in spirit fierce and free, therfore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, 'do it again'; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is impossible that God says every morning, 'Do it again' to the sun; and every evening, 'Do it again' to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy seperately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.'


As I read the Bible, it seems clear that God satisfies his 'eternal appetite' by loving individual human beings. I imagine he views each halting step forward in my spiritual 'walk' with the eagerness of a parent watching a child taking the first step. And perhaps, when the secrets of the universe are revealed, we will learn an underlying purpose of parenthood and romantic love. It may be that God has granted us these times of specialness to awaken us to the mere possibility of infinite love. Of that love, our most intimate experiences here on earth are mere glimpses."


Philip Yancey, from "Just Wondering"

My ears are currently seduced by: Silers Bald - Real Life