all things.

through Him who strengthens me.

cou cou, adieu.

here i am again.  i miss you.

breezes that feel like you

my portion is You.

and the more i know this, the more i become me.

 

your cadence.

familiarity, and everything that means.

photo: http://nouvelle-nouveau.tumblr.com/

hearts for eyes.

all of my sighs, sigh of you,
my eyes can't shake the sight.
the way your face looked when i finally opened my eyes.
the sweat bead on your head.
the quiver in your brow.
the tension in your tightened lips.
your hand gripping your chest,
trying to hold back the precious words that pierced me through.
all swallowing me whole in their tragedy.
all of it.  replays in each sigh.
because for you i have only hearts for eyes.

NO.

a video from a cozy little show in silverlake, where i got to play with the boys in NO.  edited by the ever-brilliant andrea nahkla.

cinder.

and somehow there's still smoke from our fire.
i forget how big it once used to be.
but the smoke will catch my eyes every now and again.
everything goes blurry.

it burns to open my eyes.
so i stop trying so hard to see.
there's some momentary comfort when i keep them closed.
but when my eyes close,
the image of you from across a gallery burns in my head.

a fire once kept me warm.
but a residual vapor burns where there used to be comfort.
the smell of our fire, following me everywhere i go.
cinder, i can't let go, burning in my hands.

fauxchella 2012

faux-che-lla: v. the act of camping (annually) in joshua tree, together with one's friends, new and old,  for the purpose of creating music.

Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu

"confession is nothing but humility in action.  we used to call it penance, but really it is a sacrament of love, a sacrament of forgiveness.  when there is a gap between me and Christ, when my love is divided, anything can come to fill the gap.  confession is a place where i allow Jesus to take away from me everything that divides, that destroys."

-mother teresa.

t.s. eliot

"time is no healer.  the patient is no longer here."  four quartets; t.s. eliot.

the more america i want to see...

My year abroad made me appreciate the history of Europe, but more than anything, it stirred a wonder in me for all that America is and has become.  I think being a Poli Sci or International Politics student tends to jade your view of America, but I'm really so amazed by how this land started, and filled with a burden for its recent ways.  But there's so much magic here!  Though there are some really sad things in our past, we also come from a tradition of overcoming and learning.  It makes me remember that there's SO much more I haven't yet discovered about it.  So many places I haven't been and people I haven't known.  There are places that once enchanted me, that I'm longing to revisit.  Here's a list of where I'd like to go/re-go.

1.  Savannah, Georgia
2.  Portland and Bend, Oregon
3.  the Redwoods
4.  the Adirondacks
5.  NYC-in the summer-time.
6.  Billings, Montana
7.  all of the state of New Mexico
8.  The Northeast Kingdom & Champlain Lake Valley in Vermont
9.  back to lake Travis in Austin, TX
10.  ALASKA!!

hebrews 11:13-16.

"...they admitted they were aliens & strangers on earth.  people who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.  if they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return.  instead they were longing for a better country-a heavenly one.  therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them."  -hebrews 11:13-16.

away she hurried, not beautiful, not supremely brilliant, but filled with something that took the place of both qualities-something best described as a profound vivacity, a continual & sincere response to all that she encountered in her path through life. -em forster.

and a light will flicker on

where there once was none,
where does love come from?

-the chambers & the valves; dry the river.

that was fun!

but now let's hurry home, with gladness in our heart.

i'm tired now.

but You're worth every sleepless night.

photo: rosencrown.blogspot.com

living deep in You.

Papa, Your presence is my home. Forever. And I'll try to know that I have no need to ever be in want.

a poem. one year ago. recited on the coast of alnwick, northeastern england.

The river is within us, the sea is all about us;

The sea is the land’s edge also, the granite

Into which it reaches, the beaches where it tosses

Its hints of earlier and other creation:

The starfish, the horseshoe crab, the whale’s backbone;

The pools where it offers to our curiosity
The more delicate algae and the sea anemone.
It tosses up our losses, the torn seine,
The shattered lobsterpot, the broken oar
And the gear of foreign dead men. The sea has many voices,
Many gods and many voices.
The salt is on the briar rose,
The fog is in the fir trees.

— T.S. Eliot, ‘The Dry Salvages'-four quartets

celebration of you, little minnow.

photo: papertissue.tumblr.com

sometimes i catch myself talking about the weather much too much, and pretending to know about things i don't,
and it reminds me of how as a child i thought grown-ups were so annoying for talking about the weather much too much and pretending to know about things they don't.
then i grow sad that i am already 25 and am supposed to be a grown-up.

but then i remember that i still listen to my music much too loudly, and that i eat ice cream almost exclusively in bed, that i still dance like a maniac alone in my room at least 4 times a week, that sometimes i eat strawberry licorice for breakfast, and that my wallet is completely unorganized. things that make my mum sigh in grief, they make me sigh in relief.

growing up is inevitable they say. but i'll choose to celebrate the minnow. sometimes she's the smarter one in me anyway.