Saturday, March 26, 2011
The Important Things
Which is why even the simple act of giving up is important. There is a time for everything under the sun, Ecclesiastes says, and this is the time for giving up. Not on everything. Just one thing. It's something that I've been holding on to, and have had a lot of trouble letting go. Some of you will be able to guess. Some of you will not. But in the area of letting go--let's just say I've always had trouble with it.
But this letting go, this giving up...it is important. It's nice to finally be able to feel as though it no longer has a hold on me. Previously, I would be worried about losing something--well, that something was already lost, and I was mourning its loss. Now, it's time to begin a new chapter.
I am more alive and focused on the important things in my life than I have been for a long time. I am able to pour myself into what I do every day, whether that be writing, spending time with friends and family, sorting out my thoughts, looking for a job, spending time with God, or just taking a break. I've let go. And it's a very freeing thing.
There's nothing new that I've learned from this. There's nothing that's really changed. That's what makes this all so curious--there's nothing to be gained or lost from this. It's simply the passing of time, the decision to change focus.
God has a plan for me, and I'd prefer to focus on making it possible for some of those plans to show up.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Sanitation
Wash your hands with extra soap
before you say what you mean.
If it needs to be said,
write it down, before
what hasn’t been said
overtakes it.
There are three rules to letting go:
cut strings, say things,
and follow the stages of grief.
There are no rules to
doing things right—
the church, the city,
the family forms
the structure of
“right” and “wrong”;
but there are no rules.
Nothing means anything
anymore,
but what isn’t being said
means everything
and changes nothing.
If your hands are dirty,
sanitize, and
leave no evidence
when you go.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
My Old Heart
I had an old heart before
it had a chance to be young;
I knew before it happened
what it felt like
to look down the barrel of a gun,
the trigger clenched
by the hands of a ticking clock,
and when the shot rang out,
I saw my young heart bleed out
with my old, old eyes
and watched my young heart
die,
and mourning for it,
I spend my time
avoiding what it remembered
terrified to forget.