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.

Too much

A drop of water. Another. Another. Another.
 Multiply that infinitely and what is small, what is harmless, what seems so insignificant it is not worth a thought becomes a flood.
 A deluge of water falling, falling, falling. It is no longer insignificant. It is dangerous.

I think of you. It is a beautiful thought, you make me laugh. Thoughts of you warm my heart.
They are harmless. Though I might like you, though I might feel a greater affection toward you, what is one thought really?
One thought, then another. Another. Another. Another.
A deluge of thoughts falling, falling, falling. Preying on my open mind, preying on what is unoccupied, what is already in your favor. But they are no longer innocent and beautiful.
They are dangerous.

What is worth a thought?
Certainly not what we let come. 

Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,
But at the dawn of the day, tis the Lord whom I trust.

The Spirit of the Lord who moves in freedom,
who rides on wings of the sun,
 He comes.

He brings with Him stars to color the night,
And laughter and smiles, and joy and delight.
And the trees and the fields, and the birds as they sing,
And He wakes up the brook and together they sing,
He carries up dew to awaken our eyes,
"Wake up!", He says "Wake up and rise!".
The day is unfurling in front of our eyes,
"Wake up!", He says "Wake up and rise!"

Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,
But at the dawn of the day, tis the Lord whom I trust.

Tired

Slow movements, faded skies,
My brain lumbers through and I don't know why
All the colors have seemed to have gone away,
And have tinted tomorrow the color of today.

As all life seems to spin as one,
weary and worn in the light of the sun,
as if it's a struggle to merely stay awake,
Cumbersome the load that we have to take. 

 As I sit and ponder I long for the day,
when the grey mist we live in will all pass away,
when we can once again long, and once again dream,
that life will become more than it seems,
for what we dream seems to all pass away,
faded asleep in the light of the day. 

You were beautiful.

Looking back through memories in a picture, I see you. I see things that my mind has already forgotten, happiness that was hidden under layers of confusion and pain. The joy that time dulled and all but erased. But it was captured. Before it was erased, to be lost forever, a little part of it was kept and stored away in a picture. I didn't notice it being taken, and if I did, with the joy was so overflowing all around me, I didn't need it. So it was forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind, it endured as time went on. And everything changed. The golden colors so vivid in the picture were muted, and faded and faded. The extreme happiness that shone through the picture, was all but a forgotten memory. And clouds covered the sun. And so the picture sat, shoved behind a large pile of nothingness, cobwebs, and dust, while the world that it portrayed grew faint and disappeared. Eventually, the sun came back again, but it was a different sun, it was no longer gold, but still beautiful, in its way. The happiness returned, but it was not the same. I came to like it anyway, I came to find it real, and it became who I am. I forgot you, and the golden sun, and the happiness we shared. It became like a different world, and I came to find that I didn't need that world anymore. And so it went, and so I forgot. Until now. Until, entirely by accident, I removed some of the nothingness that hid the picture. Unwittingly, I began to clear away cobwebs and dust, until I came across that picture. And then I saw you again. And then I remembered. And though the memories of what we shared have all but slipped from my mind, the vision that the picture held is not one that can be overlooked. I remembered the golden sun and the feelings of happiness, and I began to remember who you are. And I saw that you really were beautiful. When there was me, and there was you, and the smiles on our faces and the joy in our hearts scared away any trace of darkness or fear, and the love you had for me made the sun shine brighter. Your love was beautiful, and your heart was beautiful, everything about you was wonderful and happy. You were the gold and you made the colors shine brighter. As I look into the picture I see that. But I do not see everything as it was, because as I watch, you and I, those two people in the picture separate, until the space between our hearts becomes the time that has passed. And I see things as they are, not as they were. I look at the picture again, and can see the beauty there, but that beauty is not here. And you are not here. Because this is a different world, and you are not in this world. You are a shadow here, there is nothing beautiful about you. Maybe in your heart, some of the gold transcended down to this world, but we are too far away for me to see. Who you are and who you made me to be are faded away. So I will put away the picture, because I can not understand it in this world. Though I see you, my mind has already forgotten. 

how quickly we forget

It is our God who created this world, how quickly we forget.
We stumble around as if darkness is unfurled,
we do things that we regret,
instead of simply dwelling in
the sunlight
we forget.

It is Jesus who died for us, how quickly we forget,
we live as though He's dead to us,
In the grave we lay in sin
when it is His blood
that paid for it
so soon do we
forget Him.

The Holy Spirit indwells within, how quickly we forget.
How quickly fear engulfs us,
how soon we turn to run,
how suddenly do we not realize
that we are not alone,
we have a helper inside of us
He is leading and guiding us
how very very quickly
do we now
forget.

And when there is a blessing, let us not forget,
let us dwell in thankfulness, never to forget,
and when the blessings all abound,
let us not forget who gave,
His life, Himself, His Spirit,
In all and through all made
complete and in His love for us,
the reason why we live
let us ever abound in thankfulness
let us remember
Him. 

Hugs

Hugs are so great,
hugs are so fluffy,
they make me smile big
cuz they are so comfy.

Hugs make me happy, when I am sad,
Hugs tell me its ok, don't you feel bad,
Hugs say I'm here for you, and always will be,
Hugs say I'm glad that you're here next to me. 

I like hugging you cuz it just feels right,
so please won't you come here and hug me tonight?

Looking for you.

Looking for you is like looking for one grain of sand,

it is like climbing a mountain that never ends,

looking for you is hopeless.

Its like you are the lighthouse whose light is to dim to follow,

and I'm the boat about to be dashed into the rocks,

if you could just reach out a little farther,

if you could just shine a little bit brighter,

than I could reach you,

but no.

Following you is hopeless.

It's like you are a butterfly flitting right above my reach, 

shadows dancing before me, taunting me.

Showing me what might have been.

What could have been.

Reaching out to you is hopeless.

Hopeless, hopeless, yet my heart is full of hope,

and hope says I will climb the mountain and reach the top,

hope says that you are this way, that I must continue,

hope says that you are within my grasp.

Hope speaks about our lives, and shows us the future,

and in the future there is no hopelessness.

There is only you.

And me.

Hope says that you will be happy to see me,

that you will take my hand and tell me how glad you are that I never gave up.

That I never stopped hoping.

I don't like hanging on by a thread of hope,

but sometimes that thread of hope is connected to something far better than anything we could settle for.

Sometimes its worth it holding on to hope,

even if the chances are slim, more slim than any thread.

I will hang on, and in my heart,

I will hope.

for you.

 

For the moments when I don't belong

I want to go home,
God please take me home.

I've been running in circles, my head now is weary and I feel like there's nowhere to go
Through fire and brimstone, conversing with strangers, the only place left is home.

I want to go home,
God please take me home.

To go to the place where I am accepted,
Where I'm free to live and in no way rejected,
To the place where I'm meant to be,
Home is where I need to be.

I want to go home,
God please take me home.

But there's alot more to run, and a long way to go
To cross distant shores, until my race is done,
I cannot go home, I must continue to run.
Till on the Horizon I and my Maker are one,
and then with a smile He'll tell me,
"Well done."

"You have done well," He'll look at me and say,
"You've completed the race, let us rejoyce today,
For my child has fought and never has stopped,
and with my strong hands I lifted you up,
and carried you here to the place you belong,
And now all of Heaven will join you in song,
for one sinner has finally come home."

Flying. I think every man has experianced this moment. The moment before something happens. When you know that right now something big is occurring; that what you choose at this moment will change the course of your life. A twinge in the pit of your stomach right before takeoff. An Olympian right before the race; a soldier rigt before battle; a girl right before the birth of her first child. Life is full of these crucial moments; and with them the choices we make that make these moments important. Its like standing on the brink of a cliff. You look down below and can't fully see the bottom: it is shrouded in a mist and fog so below all looks like a gray blur. It is hazy and you begin to have doubts about whether or not you should go through with this. Fear creeps up and lightning streaks across the field of your mind illuminating worries that you couldn't see before. What if I don't make it? What if this mountain was too high to begin with? What if there is something bad at the bottom that I don't know about? What would happen if I turned back now? What if I get hurt? You begin to consider.the possibility of turning around. Of making your way back down the mountain back down the road you already know. Your mind wanders to the road that brought you here and for a moment you think you can turn back. But then you remember the things that brought you here. All the pain and trails that have lead you to this place-for what? To turn around would mean for nothing. And then you think... it is for what is awaits, beyond the fog that shrouds the unknown. For the life you have to live beyond where you are right now. For the beautiful beyond that await beyond this bend. You can't go back now. And so you don't. With a victory cry that resounds of the rock you plunge headfirst onto your fears and watch them peel back like rain till there is nothing left but sunshine. As you drift through the clouds and onward you still are unsure that you made the right choice- but this is the life you have chosen to live. A life made to shine and to overcome. And that is the life I choose to live now. But i will jump knowing that You'll catch me. That the gray blur of the future is not unknown to You. And that You are calling me to jump out and shine. And I will do that and more. I will soar.

Brave

I am not brave.

I hide my face,

instead of fighting,

I run away.

Its not that I don't want to be

where you are

its just I'm more comfortable

watching from afar

I am not brave.

And so I'm here, 

writing this today

trying to say

what I cannot say,

to your face

I cannot be

everything I wish I could be

everything I wish I could say

even though I run away,

Though, in my head, to you I'll stay

And try my best to be

 brave.

The epic of the giant pink frog

I tis bored,
tis bored I am,
a strenuous, complicated predicament my friend
so instead of doing nothing, you see
I will sit and write boredom poetry
About duck, and chickens, cars and dogs,
about stars and moons and a giant pink frog
who tried to jump over Saturn.

"Don't do it," cried the duck and chickens and clucking away
the cars revved their engines and begged him to stay,
the dog covered his ears and tried to run away
while the stars and the moon just shone.

But the giant pink frog was adamant that was what he wanted to do,
So with a lot of sighs and tears and boo-hoo's
the giant pink frog jumped past the moon
and landed among the stars.

But there was one problem for the frog that he overlooked,
he forgot to read his science book,
that talked about oxygen and the need for frogs to breathe
but since he forgot to read
he couldn't jump to Saturn.

So the pink frog was really depressed, not to mention slightly compressed
because his lungs couldn't handle it,
but he gave one last leap with all his might,
and when he looked upon his right,
it was there that he saw Saturn. 

And then, in that instant he died,
and it was a sad goodbye
for he was the last of his kind
and the only to jump past the moon.

But his memory will be ranked with the greats
among ducks, chickens, cars, and dogs
and the stars and moon will never forget
the brave giant pink frog.

I miss home.

There was a place I could go,
where I could walk out,
and I know
that this was my home.

Where smiles surrounded me like air,
and love flew up from everywhere,
And freely I laughed, as I know
that this was my home. 

But then I went down the road,
and around the bend,
and when I looked back,
I couldn't find home again.

So I kept walking down,
down to the next bend,
where the road turned,
and so I went
till I reached another home.

And I was happy there, and sat for a spell
until the shadows came back and I grew unwell
with the wraiths of a smile, and complicated air,
and with feelings of love, that weren't really there.
And with a start, I realized
This was not my home.

So I tried to run back as fast as I can,
but the shadows followed me close as I ran,
and took me across to another land,
far away from my home.

And so I grew up, under the moon,
with the shadows to guard me there, and soon
like memories of a sunny day,
my memories of home began to fade,
and I forgot my home.

But now and again I shed a tear,
and remember that I am here,
far away from what once was known
far away from my home.

Someday I hope I might return again,
I'll walk around and around the bend
Till I reach my happy home,
Greeted with the smiles I once have known,
and maybe then I'll be content
For I have found my home again.