traveling thoughts.

i enjoy flying, as you may know, and one reason is that once i'm through security a kind of peace sets in--i have no control over whether the plane will make it or not and in letting go there is freedom. does that make sense? and i do choose to put myself there--by buying the ticket--but i don't have a choice once i'm there. i can't switch flights very easily and i can't actually fly the plane.
this leads me to think on unconditional love, with my first thought being that we resist unconditional love because it reduces us to a place of helplessness, a place we were born into but spend our lives trying to forget. in that place we are held and cared for NOT on the basis of anything we do, simply on the merit of the One who loves us. and yet in that humble, vulnerable place we find a place of supreme joy as we are taken care of much better than we could ever do for ourselves. it is paradoxically humbling and uplifting.
it's akin to the joy i feel as i look at the ocean--fearful of it's terrifying depths yet dazzled by it's beauty. we do live in a world of paradoxes, yet therein lies the opportunity for faith. trusting the God who loves us unconditionally we can walk through life as Suhard says:
To be a witness
 does not consist 
in engaging in propaganda,
 nor even in stirring people up,
 but in being a living mystery. It means to live 
in such a way 
that one’s life 
would not make sense if God did not exist.

restless

i've got to get going
there's no air here
it's all gone stale
like yesterday's bread
i need something fresh
inexhaustible supply
a new day
a new way
sunrise

this road is familiar
though i've never walked it
i know each pothole
under my wandering feet
around each bend i keep hoping
You will appear
a new vision
a new horizon
dawning

i shoulder my pack again
say each goodbye
wondering if this time
it will be different
if somehow i'll find it
that illusive dream
a new love
a new peace
glory

oil or latex

these past few days i have helped paint and thought of some metaphorical similarities between painting and life, especially relationships. as i approached painting, i got things prepped--putting tape along lines, finding a bucket to work out of but not planning. i don’t think <>. my skills are basic, so i don’t really think ahead as far as all the possible taping, cutting, drop cloth placement, types of paint, surface prep, etc. so i think i’m prepared and i jump in. everything is going fine (to my mind) and then i hit a snag. usually this involves spilling paint, getting it on something that shouldn’t be painted, or conferring with an expert who gives me insight into how i did things wrong.

then, of course, there’s clean up. i do my best to get the paint out of the brushes, but many messes that occur during painting are not fixable. i smudge the paint on the rug and call it good, or with my finger attempt to wipe off the smear outside the line. with more practice, i know i could improve, yet i also know i lack both the desire to perfect my skills as well as the inherent talent. often, i then feel dissatisfaction with the finished product because i know it could be better and i see my failure glaring me in the face.

relationships are similar. i apprehend people fairly quickly, and am, i like to think, generally correct. then i jump accordingly. yet, i lack some skills to really relate and people, unlike paint, are not predictable. so when the inevitable happens--a mess--i hastily clean up--apologize, take responsibility--and then, alone, vow to avoid the imbroglio next time (which, of course, is impossible).

unfinished

goodbyes. endings. transition. "oh, we never did..." "next time you visit we'll have to..." so much of life is a work in progress, a journey. a thousand things we meant to say but never did. walking up a trail but never making it to the top of the mountain. promises to return that go unfulfilled.

life is unfinished.

i am unfinished.

in the rippled moments of change, nothing is quite as striking as this, and nothing is quite as difficult to let go of, to accept the fact that you must choose to make things happen if you care, because "someday" never comes. today is all we have, tomorrow is an ellipsis and will always remain so. lay no blame at another's door for your omissions--we equally have this moment.

make of it what you will.

before it's finished.

like an old song

the days turned into years

faces come and go in new places

i've seen so much, found new heights

only to find i still miss you

when the feeling creeps up

i laugh and ignore it most times

you moved on, never looked back

so i shouldn't miss you

but in the middle of a laugh

the memory of your smile

like an old cliche comes

making me miss you

someday i'll find someone new

as the songs all say

he will take your place

and i won't miss you

for now the ache remains

although you'll never know

because you never cared

that i missed you