October 27 2013 - Press On

I press on.
Not knowing the mountains that lie ahead,
Yet the shadows loom up, flickering, foreshadowing
   the climb I must take to scale them.
I look down at my hands, my feet,
Blistered, battered, worn,
Chafing and weathered, I do not know how many
   beatings they can yet withstand, but they must.
I must press on.

I press on.
I look back at the road behind me,
reminiscent of the valleys, the streams, the sun-shiney glade-
  all the things that I held dear all,
  collided, cascaded into memory, soon to be forgotten
  and missed. Like an ancient lullaby they sing to me-
"Go back! Back to where the air is fair and clean
back to where you know, where you've already been."
But I must press on.

I press on.
A deep breath. I gulp the cold night air,
It's chill stinging my face. I sigh out all the
memories, all the longings, the ache in my chest for what I will never see again.
I am loathe to leave this place.
But I think I can.
I must.
Press on.

Just as well. A realtic fiction by Bethany Armistead

Today I met a guy from a dream. I would say "or my dreams" but I don't even know what my dreams are, and chances are his is not in them. But he seems to be from a dream, or a story I've made up inside my head. I'll tell it to you now.

It was at a music festival. Scratch that, it was before. I met him on a computer in a hostel in Kuching, Malaysia. I didn't have much to say to him then, I was too afraid to answer his friendly queries with more than one syllable words and when he came up the stairs I ran away to my room. Unfortunately I was not fast enough and he caught me in mid-panic with his friendly hello. He was from Price Edward Island, Canada. He has a strange habit of never wearing a shirt, which I guess can work. And he owns a bag that looks like someone took a 100 year old rice sack and tied strings to it in a pathetic attempt at modernism, or I guess at making things look fringe, which it did. I saw him a lot at the music festival, he was up in front of an interactive irish clogging session clomping away with his two left feet to a different beat than the instructor, but he didn't seem to care, he was having fun.

But it was the real first, and last time I saw him that made the impression that brought me to write this.

It was Geordie Mackeeman and the Rhythm Boys, I was very excited. They are a bluegrass group from Canada, simple and nice people, fantastic fiddling, guitaring, everything. The Leader, I pressume Geordie was his name, wow-ed everyone with his lively tunes and his rubber legs that moved so fast it was hard to believe a person could be capable of such a feat. Anyway, I was at the front and as you might have guessed by now, I am a very sheltered, naive girl with a phobia or talking to people I don't know. But that sort of complicates thing for someone who's dream is to talk to people. And since going to this music festival I have had a fascination with the party people,the new victims of my hidden outgoingness. They always seem like they are having so much fun, dancing and laughing and singing out of tune. I thought that maybe if I had enough to drink that I would be like them too. I probably would have. If you can get inside this outside shell of fear I am actually quite a lively person. But that didn't end up happening. So anyways, I was there. And who could have shown up behind me but the CS Party Animals Here (other party animals welcome too). And inside I was kinda freaking out when the giant white CS Party Animals Here (other Party Animals welcome too) sign appeared in my peripheral vision. But suprisingly it turned out to be a good experiance for me, at least an eye opening one anyway. Although I still don't know who CS is, or what it stands for...

So this is where he comes in. You thought this story was about him . Well, it was going to be and still might end up being if I ever get to it. So, the CS Party Animals (etc) immediately start dancing start dancing, and the lady next to me (also a dancer but methinks not a party animal) dances (She was very good at dancing and a very nice individual as well, I am glad I randomly ended up next to her) and so did I, I who have vowed never to dance in public or dance at all. So to the twag of Geordie's fiddle, I look behind me, the general direction people's heads seemed to be turning at that time, and there is my guy again helping a malysian midget onto his shoulders. And I look at him, and he looks at me and I give him my biggest smile, for the sight is a cute one. (However, that midget ended up giving my alcohal and so as I write this my stomach feels kinda funny so I am thinking that wasn't the greatest thing ever for me to do.)

The lights were blue and he was blue too. And his eyes were blue and twinkled like blue stars lighting up his face. And a nice face did he have indeed: soft blue eyes, tanned skin, bearded stubble that framed his cheekbones, and tossled blonde hair. He looked soft. And in that blue moment he looked wonderful. His eyes so bright and his mouth half frozen in laughter, you know with the kind smile that shows both top and bottom teeth? That kind of smile, that real kind. I could have stopped that moment and replayed it again. But I didn't have too. I looked back at the band and then back at him and our eyes met again and our laughter and our smiles. I don't know what he had to smile at me for, but we smiled like we were both something each other enjoyed. Then the alcohal the midget gave me set and and I was dancing with the lady next to me, or trying to. I really am not much of a dancer. But faintly I was aware of his presence to my left. He was dancing too. Some weird elbow-above-head move that seemed to be one of the only one's he knew. Then he was jumping and kicking his feet around to the beat. It looked so fun, I wanted to join with him. I probably could have. But I kept my eyes rigidly fixed on the front, being intentional about not noticing him, although you can see how that worked. :P
For a time there were some swearing creeps that somehow landed behind me for a bit. That was scary and I remember trying to evaporate them away using only the power of my mind. And then he was behind me. Dancing, Dancing, Dancing, always dancing with his two left feet and his bizarre awkward looking moves. I had the feeling that when he was behind me his eyes were always on me, willing, waiting, watching for me to turn around and enjoy the fun he was having, but I never did.

It turns out he is from the exact same island as the band members were from and knew all the same people, even all their cousins and relatives, although he did not know them themselves. Every once and awhile he would yell out some Canada related comment that would make the preformers laugh about some Pub saluting them, and Prince Edward Island clam chowder, and Robin Mckinley. And he danced. But I had a feeling that unlike most of the crazy dancers he wasn't doing it because he was drunk and he could or using that as an excuse, he was doing it because he loved to have fun and that means dancing. Once he started clapping and I was tempted to turn around and ask if I could help him clap on beat. But i figured that would mean I would have to talk to him and we couldn't have that now could we?
Maybe why I was inspired to write was because of the contradictions going on inside of him, what to make of him I do not know. A crazy party animal, yet one who is safe. One with no laws or rules of any kind, yet with a dignity and a kindness. Silent when needed, but very very loud. He is a mystery to me and I do not know what to think about him. Probably nothing cuz nothing like this actually exists. I never spoke to him. He is just a guy that I saw, a guy in a dream I once had, a character in a story. He is that, but he also is no longer here to intrigue me., it's like I never knew him, which might be just as well.

Sometimes I wish I was a cyborg so I would not have all these emotions. This is emotions in words. Have Fun.

I miss you. I miss you so much. It hasn't even hit me yet, but just the thought of not having you in my life, it is painful. You have burned a hole through my chest and now I am sitting here bleeding out my thoughts of you in incomplete metaphors. I miss you. You were so much to me but I never really realized it till now. Till now. And now that I am alone with my thoughts I realize everything. And it all comes back to me in a deluge of unwanted emotions, crashing down on me, burying me but I cannot die, I can't escape. I must endure. What am I going to do without you? How can I stand the thought that I might never see you again? You, you who are so much a part of who I am. You, you who are so beautiful. Everything about you was so refreshing, like the breeze that stifles the heat and brings with it the coolness of a new start. The moments I had with you were that to me. And now the breeze blows a different way, and I must find out how to get by without it. You don't really need breezes do you? You can get by without them, I mean it isn't fun but it is possible. Adjusting to not having it will not be an enjoyable experience, but soon the feeling of the breeze on your face fades from your memory and your body adjusts to the blistering heat again, it is only the idea of not having what you once had that hurts. But I'm not there yet. Right now I can still remember clearly the look on your face when you said goodbye. I didn't hug you. I had already hugged you before, but now I wish I did. You came rushing out, you put your hand on my shoulder and you patted my head and my hair. I don't know why that always showed me that you loved me, it doesn't really seem like it would be enough, but I guess somehow it was. And then I looked at you and you looked at me, and it felt like, for that moment, you knew, and that was enough. and then you were gone. And now it is not enough. Now nothing is enough. Now your absence is felt. Now where I am, there is a gap in the air next to me where you are not. I mean, it is space, I can ignore it, I can push it aside, but it is still there. I didn't realize I loved you that much. I had always kind of scoffed at the sayings "Oh, you don't know how much you love someone until they are not there." I still feel like if they had worded it differently then it might be a little less cheesy and therefore have more merit, but now I know what they mean. It is true, you really don't know. But now I know. How am I going to do this? I don't want to think about it all because if I try to then it will come back to you and I don't want to think about you. Because it hurts. But I don't want to stuff you away and never think about you, because that wouldn't be fair to you. You loved me enough that you deserve more than that. So what am I going to do? I don't know. I'll see where the wind takes me, so much like you, my little breeze. But I must look on to greater things. I am not going to let you go yet, but I am thinking sometime I am going to need to, or else I am just going to keep bleeding words and never really do anything. 

Film

What will my life be? Thoughts like butterflies dance before my eyes. I sit here staring at this computer screen. My friends, my family, my thoughts, my home, my country, even my values. Everything that I am right now might all be lost. Everything that is my life in this moment is going to be gone, and I can't get it back. I probably will not even remember it. I love my life. I love who I am, I love Indonesia, I love my school, I love all the people I am with, I love where I am in life, I don't know if I really want to give it up. But the thing is, I do not really have a choice. Because tomorrow I am going to wake up different then today. Everything changes, sometimes for the better, other times not. It's like I am watching a roll of film flicker before my eyes. Each square is a part of life in this moment. Every so often a square drops out, that screen blacks out, then another picture takes it's place. I do not notice, I just keep on watching, keep on filming. Every so often, the film drastically changes. All the squares shatter and drop at once, I do notice these. Sometimes I even miss them, but then more come and more come and soon it doesn't really matter. Sometimes I think about what my life will be like 2 years from now? Who will I be, the kind of person that stays up watching a movie then reminisces about life and time with their fuzzy 2 o'clock brain? How about 5 years? What kind of values will I have? Will I be someone that the 2014 me would be proud to be? Will I like where I am? How about 10 years? Who will I be with? Will I be married, still writing about whatever major bother I happen to have in the future, while my husband lies uncaringly asleep? Will I be satisfied with my life then? Will I even be around then? I don't want to look further down, I cannot begin to guess what pictures lie in store for my eyes to see. I don't know what the point of this is. To live each day to the fullest because each day has it's beauty? To do my best to capture it's beauty? The romantic poets I always mocked were right: writing does transcend time. Although we fade away, the parts of ourselves that we carry down in writing will remain. So though I will not have my life, or though others will not have me, me, in this moment, can be remembered. That is good, but that is not the point. I think the point has to do with God. I think the point has to do with trusting God and surrendering our future into hands that are bigger than mine. Whose fingers carve intricacies and beauty and details of my future that I probably will not even notice or try to see. And knowing that He is good. Then the past and the future and even my life really doesn't matter in comparison to Him. And if I am in Him then I do not need to worry. 

Beauty vs what I need

I wish I was capable, of making something beautiful,
With clay I would carefully mold out the base,
Intricate details I'd lovingly trace,
Into creases unknown and unseen,
I would make the most marvelous dream,
I would make something beautiful.

With music I'd carve out a world of my own,
Where music is freedom and I'm not alone,
And everyone would come and marvel at my song,
and in melody sweet, we would all sing along,
and I would make something beautiful.

If I could paint a picture with words,
Or create a song where true Life is heard,
If I could draw some marvelous thing,
Or dance till the moon joined into sing.
Even in my brilliance, if I captured their love,
Still in the stillness, it would not be enough.

For beauty is fading in everyone's eyes,
And with beauty comes fear, and in fear beauty dies.
With what I create, could it satisfy,
Could it restore what is empty, break down all the lies,
That have risen and choked what is beauty in me,
But in this moment, it is now that I see,
That I may never be able to make what is beautiful,
But that is not what I need,
What I need, what I need, what I need is peace.

For insecure people

I think the worst thing a person can be is a slave to fear, and to insecurity. I mean seriously, this fear is not even based on anything real. It is all comparisons and standards and shame in your own mind and it is horrible. I am really not one to talk because I have dealt with this my whole life, but when you get to look at it from another persons eyes, when you get even a fragment of what it looks like to God's eyes than you see it for what it truly is: ugly.
I have never been able to understand what God saw in people. I've always questioned Him: why did you keep us? Why didn't you go and start over and make something that could actually succeed? What do you see in us that makes you love us? I have never been able to understand it. But now I am starting the point. If you look at a child, the one's who have never been exposed to the world and it's hardships, the joy and freedom that it has in innocence. The way it throws it's head back and laughs, it has no shame, it has no fear, it only enjoys what is around it. Sometimes I see that in the people around me as well. When a person is hyper and they just laugh and they just be themselves without focusing on themselves, and they just speak and talk and are just happy, it is contagious. It is beautiful. There is something unstoppable and absolutely wonderful to them and you can't help but love them. But then the same person can go from that beautiful thing to a mess in one instant. When we start looking at ourselves and start becoming a slave to fear.

A man is a slave to whatever has mastered them. It is a horrible thing when what masters us becomes ourselves: gratifying our lust, our greed, our fear. But especially fear. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we hate what God has made to love? How do we get so caught up in our own mind, our own fears about what others might think of us, our failures or our fear that we might fail, that we are a slave to it? But it is so ugly. When we constantly put ourselves down, we constantly hate ourselves and ignore reason, ignore what other people are saying to us. "You are amazing! You are worth loving! People like you! You don't need to hate yourself! You are so much more than you think you are!" I just want to shout it in people's ears so that they can believe it! Because it is true, but no matter what I say or how I say it, it is not going to make a difference to them. They will not hear it. They are too caught up in the lies that they are crap, when they really are not. If only they could see themselves the way everyone else does, if only they could let go off all their fear and become the person they are in those moments of freedom. Because that is who they are, these beautiful, shining, joyful creatures, laughing and free in the light of the sun. They are untainted and spotless and beautiful, and that is how God sees them.

I think I am finally starting to understand. All those verses about how God loves us, all those verses about how we are spotless and untainted and His beautiful bride, I never got it, but now I do. These people, us, we are that beautiful bride because that is how God sees us, He sees us the way we should be. Just like you can't see yourself the way other people see you, we can't see each other the way God sees us. But to Him He sees us in the moments that we let down all of our guards and just be, and He thinks we are amazing. He loves us, He can't help it. We just make Him laugh, we just make Him so happy.

But then we start hating ourselves, and that shrouds our loveliness with what is ugly. But we are blind and self-consumed. Maybe if we took our eyes off ourselves, we would actually do something cool, and then we wouldn't have to feel this way. And maybe we would actually let God change the way we think.

I mean, it's kind of hard to understand this and honestly some of us don't want to. But we need to because it is important, it will change everything. Christ died so that we could be free from our sin. And when Christ frees us from our sin we are FREE! We don't have it anymore, it is gone, and we can walk way white and perfect. Fear is a sin that Christ has freed us from. Why don't we walk in that? We don't have the fear, it is gone. But we imagine it's there, we imagine it is binding us, and so soon what we imagine turns out to come back and we become bound, and then we'll never be free. We think we will never be free, but honestly, is anything too big for God? Answer me that, is anything bigger than God? Is there anything out of His control that He cannot do? There isn't/ So our fear is gone, we just need to believe that it is. Trust that He has freed us. Because He has. And He sees us differently than we see each other, He sees the beauty in us. So we should live in such a way that we display that.

When I find identity in myself

Sometimes I wish I was better.
Better at everything,
Better at life.
It's like I live for the approval of other people,
the approval of myself.
Like the fickleness of what I see in the mirror is really going to change me.
Like the flickering thoughts around me, their inconsistency is going to tell me who I am.
But then again, I am not so constant myself.
I am like a pinwheel, every little flutter of the wind has the power to move me.
A sandcastle built too close to the shore, the waves lap at my base and it flattens, all the intricacies that made me unique dissolve in to solid mass,
 but it's like I wanted them too, I do not value them as much as I should, but without them I lose much.
I wish I was stronger,
A house built on the rock will not be moved.
A life founded in the Giver of Life will not be shaken.

when my life becomes so boring that is actually starts to hurt

Insistent, grey mist flutters before my eyes
Seeping into my vision till everything I see is tinted with grey.
Till I can only see the world with half closed eyes.
Till everything is dull, monotonous, routine, grey.

It is almost like it is willful, that it wants me to be blind, it wants me live in a box of my own making,
And it almost succeeded.

But it forgets one thing: I was not made to see in grey.
Every cell of my body has been fused with color, rainbows of blues and yellows that collide and form a tapestry of colors inside of me.
Colors that are not so easily forgotten.

So no matter how my life looks on the outside, I can never be satisfied.
The colors in my veins fight, struggle out demanding to be heard, demanding to be experienced,
demanding a greater spectrum of emotions: anguish, exuberance, ecstasy, hatred.
But never lethargy, apathy, indifference, boredom.

And so they fight.
And so I feel.
Though I cannot see my way through the mist, I cannot passively accept it.
I feel frustrated, dissatisfied. I feel as though though the routine of my life is a knife that chafes and grates on my nervous.
And sooner or later I will not be able to take it anymore.
And sooner or later I will explode. 
And the colors will burst forth like paint droplets and scatter everywhere, defying the grey, filling everyone with a sense of wonder, a sense of excitement.
A sense of more. 

And maybe they will finally start to question why they live their lives in this way,
And maybe they will cease to accept a life with so little,
And maybe they will break out.
I don't know, I just know that I will not be bound by the reality that is presented to me,
That life can and will be more, and I will not sit back until it is.