timshel.

an excerpt from a letter written in january 2011.

"you are Real to me because you have let me in. i thank you for that, for that trusting love you have given to me. it is unique and i know it can be unmatched by anything else we both might ever come across. i am thankful for this time when i have experienced raw emotion at it’s deepest. what it means to love at its height and to fall into the lowest. it is true and raw emotion like this that make being human real and whole - and worth being alive. you have taught me what it means to feel life at it’s most genuine, and i couldn’t be more glad.
you can be everything because you are everything. and i am for you, always."



--
in the mean time,
let it saturate you.

write right.

i write and write and write and write and write and keep writing.


it is therapeutic.

days are cold, nights are empty,
this pull and tug.

so i'll keep writing for you,
but mostly for myself.

The Sun is Bright in my Eyes.

I have heard that one of the greatest things to experience is love, and be loved in return.

This sounds mystical, magical and wonderful.

And that if you love something, you should give it away.. and if it comes back to you, then you know it was real....or something like that.

Why would I want to give it away if I love it in the first place?

I think I semi-agree with both of the above love statements. Feeling love in return is a phenomenal experience - it is something that I (especially) constantly long for - in all of my close relationships. The problem with this theory, however, is how is one able to gauge the amount of love one is harboring inside of oneself, and how can it be measured against the love of another? I do agree a lot with the second statement, though I don't know how I feel about releasing a love I already have and rely on... but I do understand the underlying theme that if you truly to love something, then you will be willing to be without that said thing/person because you only want the complete, absolute best for them... even if that means it isn't you. But you can still love - and still hope - but be content in knowing that you have loved enough to let something have the freedom to explore and find their own way - which could end up being you anyway.

I make this love-thing so complex. There are so many different types and levels and ways to experience love. Some are good, some are terrible - but in the end they all teach.

We (I, especially) were created to love.
To desire it.
To drink it.
To soak it in.
To make it.
To break it, even.

But in the end, no matter how heartbreaking or despairing we may feel, we still crave it.


Thoreau wrote that is that there is no remedy for love, but to love more.

And I couldn't agree more with that statement.

So that's what we must do.

To everyone.

Even ourselves.

white blank page.

i hate that i always find myself wanting to write about the same things.
but i suppose that since they are the things on my mind - that i face, that i struggle with, that i love, that i live in - then they are important to me. and my ideas keep changing. about. everything.

-

i have this idea about myself that i am asleep. i've written about it before. i just feel a lot of the time that i lack the energy to go out and do. there's life inside of my body but it hides a lot. i put my effort and my love and energy into things that have failed me. it's hard to think that another year is budding, and i still feel this dreariness of sleep inside of me. my head is cloudy. my heart is mangled. my body is tired.

i stand at the beginning of the end (as cliche as it sounds). why am i not longing to embrace this life and these final months at wingate and with my friends that i love to the fullest? why am i content to be alone, wrapping myself up into this melancholy that has become this time of my life. i have come to this point where i have been buried with the weight of truth and the weight of lies. the weight of real and the weight of what my heart longs for - the things i want to be right and true - even though i am content with it all.

a new year is barely a day old. and i have found myself being tired and dizzy and sad about this. this year brings both ends and beginnings for my life. new chapters in the book i've been writing for almost twenty-two years. but in my mind i find myself returning to the pages that are dog-eared, worn and stained from hands and tears. there are white blank pages ready to be written on - eagerly awaiting my hand to continue writing this story. but why do as i feel as though my time has already climaxed and i'm on the long downward spiral to the conclusion.. i don't want to be. i want to be excited and in awe of everything life is giving me and experience it as best i know how. but why do i feel like i can't even do that? this intersection of hope and apathy that i have scares me. its as if i know the Truth that i have been given, but chose to do nothing with it. chose to continue with how things appear in my mind rather than what reality is giving me.

and so this is where i sit going into a new year. a new time. a new chapter.


my challenge is to make myself awake this year. to drink up life. to soak it in. to devour it. to love. to love.. to Love. to be content with the hand i have been dealt. to be the best friend to the ones i have. to be free and honest. to find God in ways i haven't before. to allow God to reveal God's self and plans and Love to me. to try to figure it out. to be there.
to being real.
to being awake.
to being wide awake with eyes wide open.
here we go, 2011.
here we go.

awake, my soul.


listen to this, please.