May 28, 2011
-
The Pen
–by Muhammad-al-Ghuzzi
Take a pen in your uncertain fingers
Trust, and be assured
That the whole world is a sky blue
Butterfly
And words are the nets to capture it
*
I stared up at the cloudy night sky and bright white foam-capped waves coming at me at south beach, Miami. Nope, I am not ready to settle down yet. I like the whole galavanting around life.
God, please tell me it isn’t about drudgery and doing what seems right–tell me it is about abundance and extravagance and desire and beauty and living life to the brim, knowing “yes, this is the best.”
So the rapture didn’t happen last Saturday. And while I laughed with the rest of them when an friend stood next to the people proclaiming the end and held up a sign “will marry before rapture,” something inside me still envied them. It takes guts to believe in something so…risky. To believe it enough to make it change what you are doing on a daily basis. Staking their reputation, time, and energy on something that could be so embarrassing. That WAS so embarrassing. Putting all your eggs in one basket.
Not that I know anything about the situation.
I still have not decided if I believe in coincidence or not. “V for Vendetta” got me thinking. And aren’t those days when the littlest thing touches you and you think “man, God is so good to me…” wonderful? That He plans out the minute details. That everything happens for a reason. I want to find the reason why everything happens. I want to read God into every aspect of my life. But then again…
Sometimes I wonder if I go overboard. Overanalyze. I get to the point where I want to scream “Why does it feel like Christianity is telling me to thank God/give God the glory for all the good things that happen, and blame myself or satan if something bad happens?” When something bad happens, does it mean I messed up (consequences), there is spiritual warfare (so I just need to keep going), or I just move on, do the best I can, and say “hey, bad things happen–it is life.”
For example…the randomness of my broken car. Sometimes it would start, sometimes it wouldn’t. So I sat in the car thinking “God, are you trying to tell me something here, or am I just supposed to go get the car fixed–or both?” I know the answer is…just live life with God–but it just seems to look different all the time. Being open to listening is darn hard.
Six Strings–by Federico Loria
The guitar
Makes dreams cry
The sobbing
Of lost souls
Escapes
Its round mouth.
And like a tarantula
It weaves a huge star
To catch sighs
That float from its black
Wooden back
*
Who am I if I am not Brazil? Not what I do or accomplish? Not a reflection of the people I know?
What else do I talk about?
What is the difference between our heart and our personality? Are we willing to let God have/change both? If He does, will there be anything left?
And other such questions. I like questions.
