good tidings

Our advisor in Mia Maids shared this yesterday in our discussion on spiritual gifts. I love it!

ego

Insatiable: the hunger you never escape.
Like Cronus I eat all that I create.
Too afraid that no one---no, nothing will ever
Stand as tall.

Infallible. The right to define the truth
is reserved for those who take it.
A battle ax, more cumbersome
than the weapon sharpened to a fine point.

In finite I exist. Not infinite am I.
Flesh and bone surrounded by a nebula
of thought; the nihilist rises.
Unanticipated the hope hidden in anticipation.



You know, just the typical stuff I think/write about while I putting the laundry away in the afternoon (that's been sitting in my entryway for two weeks). Whatya do?

Sunday Musings

Be not afraid of the unknown. The glory of God is intelligence, and the more we explore the closer we draw to Truth. The more our struggles become the map of stars to new worlds, instead of fetters that tie us down. The hole in my heart keeps tearing open, and it hurts; but it's a sweet ache, a plague of love and compassion for others. Make your mind, heart and soul a holy place, that your spirit might become a mountain for others to reach their highest point.

Peace,

O.

Late morning breakfast

*As I made my breakfast in the kitchen this morning, my heart was full, and I cried tears of joy, of being completely overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions, and growth. I wrote this stream of thoughts to share with you, my lovely readers. I have left it unedited, and un-filled in. It just is. Take what you need. Love you. *


When all you can do is beg and plead and wrestle with the part of you that is one with the Lord.
When dancing and singing, and crying, flow from your body like branches from a tree, like leaves spiralling out to fall to the ground and nourish the earth.
When aspirations and dreams are both the most important thing, and yet mean nothing in the moment, for you are content with the world in front of you.
When the prospect of life ahead is so full of pain you almost wish that you could go home now, safe and finished; but you know that you love so many here.
Lift your head and feel the sun, smell the flowers, watch the ants crawl on the earth. They've said it forever, and I will say it again, because this whole earth was created for you, for beauty, for exploration, that we might worship a Creator more infinite than our minds can reach; but it feels so good to stretch, to reach higher than we can. And we reach those moments where it begins to hurt, to tear because we can reach no further. I sometimes feel that I am lost, that I have gone too far, that there was no purpose in the wanting, in the search; and then He reaches down to me. I kiss my baby's back, and I know that the Savior had a mother who loved Him, who kissed His back, she who loved the spirit inside Him. Who grieved for those terrible things that had happened, who feared for the future; who was only human, and could only pull back glimpses of angels in all the weaving, baking, washing, tending, walking, living that there was to be. And she who shed so many tears, to wash away an old world that her child might build a kingdom. That my tears might wash me clean that I might build, that my children might see. That we might all see, that we might all give. I want to give, I want the Lord to take. Take my best, take my worst. Give to whomever needs it, I don't care who they are, what they look like, what they're doing. For I am no better than any other; we've all been there. We all hurt, we all want. We all want what we can't have. And yet, we could have it. So lucky for all that I have, so cursed for the excess I let get in my way. I go round and round in circles that I can't understand. But I read books, and listen to music, and hug and kiss, and birth, and talk, and watch and sin, and write, and cry, and fight and forgive, and serve, and I sort into categories, and I make "reason" of things that I can't see from one end to the other, and I pray. And through all of it I grow through His grace, and I believe that it will serve a purpose. that I will serve a purpose. That we all will. It's what we're all meant for, that nothing is ever wasted. Every feeling, a tiny bird that flies home. Bringing you one flight closer to home, to Everything. To whatever you need.

oh all right!

Since I just passed 10,000 page views I'l throw you a bone.

THE ANNUAL SUMMER PHOTO DUMP!!!!!!

Roycie fell down the stairs at the lake

Sandpoint

4th

painting with cousins

Rach's baby shower

cousins

church at the lake

typical beach wear: Andee's baptism shoes

in need

happy six year anniversary!

Church in San Antonio

only this is us "ditching" and going to the nice, new building closer to our house,

instead of our own chapel. Rebels I tell ya.

these stinkin' kids

sweet nephew Everett 

night swim

Grandma came for V's bday

SA temple

Riverwalk with G ma

Vida's birthday door

pretty crappy comprehensive, but, you know...

Fantasy in a minor

 Beautiful, fantastical story told by five suffering souls. I love books that ache, but in a dreamy light way, like floating on a rain cloud. I highly recommend it.

Diurnal Urinal

Everyone reaches the point in their life were they say, "I can't live like this anymore." Maybe it happens everyday, wakes them up like a whiff of coffee percolating not far off. Let's say it happens only twice a year; connected to the poles of the earth, a biannual flip flop for solstice celebration. Or perhaps it happen only once in a lifetime---an earthquake that opens a chasm that can never be closed. Does it matter how many? Are they all different, or the same? Do they come from the same place? Does the child who's secret love has kissed yet another boy on the playground, and never him, feel the same as the alcoholic who crashes his car through the center divider? Is it the same pain, the same gaping inability to see God in that solitary moment. And I bet you're sitting there saying, "No, no, they're not the same; of course one is different, some are worse, some are better. Some get better, some get worse."

And I say,"Yes!"to all of that. But, all that begins in the moment after. Whether one changes their life, or lives through their life, or dies right then and there; that all comes after that prickly gnawing feeling in the middle of your abdomen. Like a tiny hedgehog took to hibernating beneath the ribs, and now that fuzzy, sharp little fellow is opening up right there, right inside. After that feeling comes the decision to change, or move, or do nothing. But in that one moment, I think we all feel the same. We're bound together by a common thought wave descending from our Mother Eve. She was the first to feel the pull. She took that bite because she couldn't live like that anymore. Her gut told her that everything she knew was a shell; she was just a doll, and she wanted so badly to be real. And so she bit down; she threw away her shell so that she could feel pain, so that she could love, and so she could experience that final moment where she would say, one last time, "I can't live like this anymore." One final scary moment separate from God before her spirit left her body; refined to too fine a material for a life like this.

We are all the same, and we are all different. We all go up, we must all come down. My moment will never change me in the exact same way the moment changes anyone else. We many never share the same joy, or wallow in the same depths of sorrow, but I am almost sure that each breaking point, for one infinitesimal moment, is exactly the same.

I don't know that any of that matters; but it made me feel squiggly inside today, none the less.