Pringle's puts it well: Once you pop you cant stop.
Once is never enough.
Until once becomes one time too many.
One drink, one puff, one word, one kiss, now, and of course, only once more.
More - only a little - is the once that becomes lots.
The once that becomes now.. I cant quit.
We rap about it and laugh about it but the reality is that you really can't stop how much you 'pop'.
A woman, much like you, went to get another drink. One of her many onces.
Yet, this once, became an encounter unlike any other. A drink became a drink, but not a once of many.
Many times before, at this watering hole, she'd encountered many others, but the many were of no rapport. But this once, would be just once.
Not another once of onces.
Once to meet the One.
Once to have a drink, Once, and never need another.
He told her that she could stop that insatiable problem of always needing another.
His once would be only One but it would require more and, contradictory, less of her.
A generation of insatiable appetites ponders at this idea, a drink of a man? And he says he can save her, but do you understand that he truly can?
To open your heart instead of your mouth requires a deeper understanding. Anyone who has fallen into love knows the difference. You dont love with your head but with your heart.
And to drink of his love will be enough to only drink once.
John 4
Apprehension.
Is it a feeling that sinks or rises? Legitimate or imagined?
Webster does not give an ominous definition. The first is 'the act or power of perceiving or comprehending' which, by and large, is nothing negative. The final is 'suspicion or fear especially of future evil' which I am aware is even more than just simply illegitimate feelings.
I am about to embark on an 11 month course that has emotionally taken a very large toll on my friends. I have watched it tear them limb from limb and, still, they have left individuals with solid foundations.
I am unsure of what this process will look like for me. Will I too be drawn and quartered to create a solid foundation that I may draw upon in the future?
I know for a fact that this will be only a thing to be comprehended. I cannot enter with fear. Fear does only one thing well - paralyse. And I am more than free from being bound by an uncertain feeling.
I do know that in 11 months I will not leave the same person I went in. I expect fully for God to massively boost me towards his promise for my life and for a huge push into his plan for me.
And that, surely, is nothing to be apprehensive about.
 How mightily doth the oak tree stand?
Is it aware of how haughtily it looks in its stance? Does it see those around it and compare itself? Who can knock it from its deep roots and what can bring it to its knees?
The only weakness it knows, and a weakness it is, is the changes of the weather. Mighty oak tree, how you must yield to the seasons. Their mood swings and indecisiveness can bring about your demise, the end of the oak tree may rest only in the ever changing seasons.
Alas, in Spring you shoot your roots down, grasping towards the inners of the earth. Groping only to hades below. Above, your leaves grow with renewed colour and strength. Above your head no one will tower. Alone you stand. Clothed in splendour and glory unseen anywhere else.
Summer and its heat comes and you are the hiding place of others. Those seeking shelter in and under your mighty branches. To you there is nothing else you may do to improve your majestic status.
These two seasons brought about success and grew your stature. Who can question you? Is it what you do that makes you so great?
The truth, dearest oak tree, is much less splendorous.
Your clothes of glory and splendour fall with the change of the wind. You may consider it brief, however, violent it will be. This season is not gentle to you. It is in the fall that you begin to see how at natures mercy you are. It is not you that is so great. Your leaves are torn from your branches and alone you stand, without cover, for all those passing by to see. Shame that a pine tree will never know. A season you must stand, alone, laid bare for all to see your innermost flaws.
Does the next season bring respite? Is anyone able to shield you?
Mighty oak tree, How alone you are!
Wind, sleet, and hail assault your bare branches. No one can hide you in their bosom. Alone you must stand in the bitter cold that winter brought upon your once mighty stance. Hope is nowhere to be found in the onslaught of bitter winds that howl tireless at all hours. The sun offers no warmth and the moon no comfort.
It is here, oak tree, that you are truly realised. A tree at the mercy of the seasons. It is only what lies within your back that will stand the seasons change, as all else has been laid bare with the change in season. Old splendour decays slowly on the ground as time passes.
Yet, glimmer of hope! Warmth appears. At first, slowly. Spurts occasionally seemingly to tease. Then, longer and more frequently.
It is in the darkness--away from the naked eye-- that the innermost parts of you must radiate growth. It is coming. The bitter cold seems to bite less and the sun brigs about longer days. Light, are you brighter? Sun, are you stronger?
Next, oh tree, you have stood fast and it comes. Spring. It is round the next bend.
Remember, oh gallant oak tree. The splendour of this year will soon become the decay of the next.
What about us when, we are small, gives us the aversion to the darkness? The fear that grips tighter than a vice, enough to paralyse and muffle the most terrified of screams.
That fear never truly leaves us. Those dark places that scare us still, even for fleeting moments. Alleys, dark waters, and lonely nights and cut off lights.
Could it be that we are creatures built for light? Those thoughts, desires, and motives pushing us to stay in lit areas. Away from the dark places. That primary calling in your being, asking and pleading with you to take it to the light.
Is your soul different? Does it desire the light? Is that what pleads with your body to keep it away from those places?
Then, we grow, up and away. We learn to hide things in the dark, the things we want no one to see. The fear is dulled and slowly dies to become a sick comfort. Those places, hidden, dark, deep deprive our inner selves from the light that we were once drawn to.
Have you ever seen a creature who has lived its life in the dark? Is it anything that you want to be like? Blind, sickly, and small are some descriptions that come to mind.
Yet, some continue to push themselves further into the darkness, those places of hiding away from the light things.
Love. Joy. Peace. are traded for darkness
That light.
Shining.
Ask yourself, were you meant for something more?
Wind, I have cried to you to cease your blowing.
A cry which fell only to deaf ears. There, from amongst the calm of the night, when you have taken up in billows against the silk of the sea, I have cried to you to cease your blowing.
Do you hear, can you see?
The direction of this ship was set amongst still waters and its course carefully planned with each cliff and danger mapped with great care.
Alas, your might rose up from the depths of the earth to consume the ship in its whole. Was your intention, my most despondent foe, to destroy it by dashing its hull upon a rock laden shore? Do you seek to throw it thousands of miles off course, only to watch it wander back to the place where it once started?
This cruel reply is not always warranted, dear wind. It is in those nights of sorrow and fog that your soft song wafts slowly through the fields, lifting darkness as you meander lightly through. That whisper, so gently caressing, is a welcome friend.
Now then, neither are you foe nor can you be friend, how must then I address you? Can I call to you? Do you return from whence you came, can you be beckoned upon a whim?
Oh, but we must live with you and your ever changing mood. The fierce growl of a storm which was once a soft purr of a gentle afternoon, only changed by a fleeting minute.
There are moments that overtake me; although they are few and far between, where I must write.
The flow of words seem to seamlessly weave themselves together on a page with little effort from myself. A simple keystroke creates such beautiful combinations of thoughts.
Philosophy does this to me. I am not a poet nor an artist nor a dreamer. I see the world through the lens of a intellectual. However, an intellectual who is hardly up to par.
The idea that an idea could be more than a mere fleeting thought. A whisper in the darkness of the universe, hoping that what we perceive is really only part of what we can know. That absolutes are only defined by our reality which, in turn, is only defined by our words. The language, the limitation, in our lives is also the very key to expand our universe. These blank pages are canvases for the non-artist type to paint their ideal universe or to correct a malformed picture.
The pen is my paintbrush.
I write to you my view of the canvas set in front of me. The mood strikes me through anguish, depression, elation, or numbness. The picture is honest and deep. I have been cornered and told too deep at times. Too much for too many echoes in my ears lately when I gently rest my fingers on the keys.
Such joy at knowing I can impart something to someone a world away! Those beautiful keystrokes reaching across time and space to place a thought every so daintily in front of you.
There it sits. Fragile and breakable. A criticism would tear it apart but only to have it rebuilt stronger. The beauty of philosophy.
The reader may tear it limb from limb. Take each piece and bury it far from the others. Only to find that after a short time those pieces have grown into a newly formed version of the first. Popularity and attention only benefit its existence and, although many fall from the pedestal of popularity, exist in the minds of those who read.
The disagreement and the critiques that follow only serve to liven the thing.
I was told today a saying that holds true to many things in life. The thing that you feed grows and the thing that you starve dies.
The attention, positive or negative, to the thing will grow it into something new. Either a prison or a tower. It is a possibility that it creates both.
The 'it' may be any idea. It may be the desire of a child or the planning of a matured adult. Mine are the ramblings of a 20 something year old with too much on her mind.
My beautiful, simple, limited ideas. Confined by my reality and the words that surround it. The sum of experience coupled with my revelation.
Its a question I have asked myself for years. Its a topic covered by many a blog. Many written by myself.
Am I good enough?
The answer is simple. No.
I think when people realise the depth of my 'good enough' complex it confuses them.
I'm an overachiever because of this complex and it, whatever it may be, still is never enough.
Part of the human condition, I suppose, is to never be quite enough to be considered good. It is something I have come to terms with in regards to saving myself. I cant.
its everything else that I have yet to rationalise, understand, and exercise in my life.
Perfectionism runs in my blood. I like things to be done to the absolute highest standard. Even more than is possible in most situations and I expect others to adhere to these standards. Sadly, we cannot.
I recently watched a goofy youtube ad making fun or the adobe photoshopped women in magazines. Even with the knowledge that these women are not real, I cant help but desire to really look like that. I have friends who do.
(because even those things that we consider to be perfect when looked on from the outside are only perfect to the one who doesn't have it)
In one ear I am whispered the sweet nothings of the life I see in everyone else. In the other is the one that says live an excellent life.
While both of these interpretations are skewed to what is really being told to me, I seem to combine them into one message that says I must do these things, be this way, say these things, have this ability, to be good--enough.
I have the urge to pile my spiritual walk into this pile. If only I had that gift or did enough things then I could be that way.
I do it relationally. If only I act a certain way and say (or dont say) things then things will turn out this somehow ideal way.
Physically - If I eat this, work out, wear these things, have my hair this way, be tan, ect then I will be good enough.
Scholastically if I can read enough, if I can write well enough, if I can think deep enough and long enough on a subject I can grasp it in its perfection.
Looking at it from this perspective I see the ridiculousness in it all. Living in it, daily, I struggle to separate it from the truth.
Somewhere in there I wallow in the self-pity that I will never actually be good enough. I seem to forget that through HIM I can do all things. I can be good enough but it will never be due to my own strength. (not sure that some of these things on my list count towards what he wants, but you get the idea)
The excellence demanded of me is only out of what I have been given and instructed on. The perfections that the world whispers into my other ear are hardly perfect; and should be hardly desirable. At least, thats what I am told.
Its a strange balance between self-conceit and self-pity.
It seems, most days, that I have been spun around in this tumble dryer of 'enoughs' that i am unable to see through any of them with clarity. I hardly recognise that I have this complex, these assumptions, this idea in my head until something pops up.
Proximity to what I perceive as perfection or ideal generally triggers the thoughts. The few of the day have been very contrasting: Spiritual giftedness/strength and how I look.
I cant figure out why I want either but I also cant argue convincingly enough yet that I don't care about either.
I certainly need saving from myself, often.
I cry out 'vanity, all is vanity' whilst looking in the mirror.
Where you have come from always determines where you will be going. Or, sometimes, just how you will get there.
My 2011 hasn't been overall very pleasant. It started with Sharon's death on January 8th and then roller coastered from there on out.
But as I wrote a little status update for new years eve I realised I have had so many great things happen through the year. Massively fun, great things that seem to be overshadowed by the little day-in and day-out struggles.
I would say its American but it may just be a western thing, or even human, to focus on the bad and the negative when they are just ankle deep. I sometimes feel *bad analogy alert* that I am standing barefoot in a freezing puddle watching the most beautiful sunset. The discomfort of one overshadows the beauty of the other but the discomfort is only mild and awkward at best. However, at the time the feeling is all I can focus on. Its in these moments, moments of revision and reflection, that I realise how beautiful everything going on around me truly was.
I made some amazing friends.
I am living in possibly one of the more gorgeous parts of England.
I have a great Church.
I travelled to Turkey, France (kinda) and the Czech Republic.
I finished a great MA and made amazing contacts for furthering my education
I was able to show my brother and parents where I spent my last year and show off a bit of what I do daily. It was so much fun to have them out here (albeit at different times)
Basically, the prompt of this is to show myself that on a yearly basis, I am growing. The things from the previous year help shape where I am going next year and how I get there.
Today I made a list of actions that I can take to align my deeds with my faith.
What I do correctly and what I need to improve on. . . And in some cases what I missed all together in 2011.
I cant start anew every new years if I want to get anywhere. I would like to just forget many of the things last year brought but I would also forget the lessons learnt. I would like to have something to build upon.
2012 brings:
my official MA graduation.
I turn 25
my second year living abroad
a year of discovery of my talents
discovering where God wants me
hopefully enrolment in RLS
Im excited. Even in the rough times when I cant see beyond my circumstances because I
She has read over and over again to guard her heart. Keep her heart safe until she finds someone to give it to completely.
But what these books fail to answer is how she is meant to guard her heart?
Does she keep it from others?
Can she hide it away? In a bag? A box? In the closet? Hidden under smiles and civil conversations? In-between surface relationships? Fortified amongst hellos and goodbyes?
When does her guarded heart become a impenetrable wall?
When is her soul so heavily hidden that it can no longer be found?
Is the answer not to hide it away but to do the opposite?
Does she share it with others in equal portions?
Is there a way to keep track of amounts?
It all seems ridiculous.
Can she really keep track of how guarded her heart is until its too late?
Did she watch it go as someone who never meant to steal it, unknowingly, had it in his pocket as he walked away? Did she keep it under lock and key hoping he would dig for it, but the process ended up warding him off?
Where is the medium?
The heart seems to float between these two situations, unguarded in its shifting path.
Each end upon its meeting of the soft unguarded heart deals a harsh blow -- chipping off pieces, denting, bruising.
Does she pick up the pieces and put them away? Does she ignore the dents, chips, and bruises?
Is there a right answer?
Will she ever know?
For many a resolution seems like a waste. The very word means that you are intent, resolved, and determined to fulfil your decision, yet many who make new years resolutions know that within a month or even a few short days they will fail.
Why make a resolution you know that you have no intention on keeping? Thereby destroying the very name of the decision, a resolution. I quit resolutions years ago. I knew that I would only frustrate myself from not loosing or keeping off weight or not eating a certain foods. I was not resolute in my decisions and therefore made no resolutions.
Some years I would just answer that I made a resolution to not make any unreachable resolutions.
To preface the rest of this blog you must know that I love meaning. Layers upon layers of meaning. In actions, decisions, writing, conversations, music and just about everything else. Sometimes I even look for layers when they don't exist. Sometimes I add them when no one will notice.
I have considered various resolutions to make in the upcoming year to pair with my recent life changes and have come up with nothing of worth -- nothing that really adds meaning into my life.
I could be finding the whole process difficult because I am incredibly homesick. Growth in my life seems to have come to a complete standstill and I am finding life excessively difficult.
Home always is some glorified place in my mind filled with fun, friends, and an easy life.
A life filled with nights out, dressing up, and the glitz and glamour that I remember from being busy 24/7. A life with very little financial constraint and a job that I completely enjoyed. I life where I felt appreciated and sought after.
Did I mention that it seems excessively hard here? I remind myself constantly that I am surrounded by great friends here. I segregate myself and then am somehow surprised that I feel lonely.
I think all of the things I remember are only partial truths. A lot has changed at home and as well as within me. Life was difficult, lonely, and boring enough that I felt completely excited and ready to leave the country. It cant be as simple and exciting as I remember it.
So after all of this where do I want to be in 2012?
The simple answer is I still don't know.
I would like to say that I want to be content with where I am but that was a decision to work on years ago. I want to say that I will be okay with not being as gorgeous or attractive as I want to be, as thin as I want to be, or as financially set as I would like but I have been working on that list for years. Its completion is hardly attainable in 12 short months.
Maybe complete honesty with myself? Although, I don't know how much I deceive myself in the first place.
I will be finishing the 'read your bible in a year' program that I have started but that is hardly a new decision as I am four months into it.
. . .
And after all of this I can see a constant. I am focused on me and am never good enough. I never really measure up or am happy. Every sentence is flooded with 'I', 'myself', 'self', and 'me' rather than a big picture. Something worth meaning. Something bigger than 'me' or the trivial things I want in my life.
2012 has to be the year where I care about others more than myself.
If all I do is stare at myself in the mirror I can never change someone else's life for the better and I certainly wont be able to build something bigger than myself.
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