Coffee and words

Creativity comes in waves for me. I am never ready, and often unsure if I will even respond. Lately, I have hidden it away. Partly because of laziness, but also because being creative reminds me of my purpose. I have surrendered to the lie that I am purposeless. Over the last couple of years I let myself be robbed of the Love that God has offered me. But I am tired. Tired of not having a reason to lift my feet forward. Tired of hiding creativity and purpose.

No more. I want to be creative. I want words to flow from my fingers and my lips into lines of wonder bringing glory to a God that is wonderful. What house builder does not build houses. What poet does not write verse. What tree stops breathing out fresh air. Or what ocean fails to roar out of the excess power of its own being. No, if any of these things were to quit it’s nature than it’s very existence would be put under question.

My existence has been called into account. Either I choose to reclaim my nature, the purpose given to me from birth, or I giving it up and cease to exist.

I like movies and books. If you look at the list of stories I enjoy the most they all capture the points of do or die. Any good story has moments when, either the hero does something daring, or everyone and everything he has worked for dies. Often times his daring deed is dangerous, risky, and not something a normal person would even try. I love do or die moments. I love standing at the gate of mordor and say today we fight. I love the broken hero who has one last plan.

I am broken. I have one last plan. But history only decides heroes on whether their lives saved others. So here I go. I am picking the pen back up. I am claiming my purpose. I am seeking a Love I used to know. I have one last plan. I am tired of letting the enemy of my own laziness and self. I refuse to believe the lies anymore. This is where I ride out to meet myself in battle. It is a battle that will take many years and much effort, but I will kill him. Regardless the amount of battles, I will win the war. I will kill him, my self will die with a sword through his gut and knife in he throat. The light is a deadly weapon, piercing everything. This is do or die.

Beneath the Curse of These Lover’s Eyes

To my far away

You who haunt my memories

My heart keeps you and my dream’s hold you

Mornings see me awaken with tears

You have told time and time of your lack of love

But again and again I return seeking it

I search my memories and replay every scene

Always am I seeking to find your love

To find out that it was not a lie

This truth I cannot bring myself to trust

But I am always back at the beginning with this old letter

Always left back on my knees in a cold parking lot

Bile in my throat and stomach on train tracks

I seek sleep at night in the hopes to wake amnesic

However, my heart is evil and joins in your cause

Even my dreams offer no safety

For my heart has conspired to keep hope alive

Hope that you do love me

That the lie was the one you told yourself

The stories of nights weave tales of how you love me

They grip me, showing me a truth I want to believe

A story, a truth, an ending that I long for

One where we are joined again

Where you tell how you really do love me

An ending in which my love is matched

You ask to hold my hand again and I never let go

You have left me cold and distant

I fear trusting others because of your twisting of truth

You built a man, but killed his heart

Even as I write this though I know of your innocence

You did not mean any of this and to blame you is unfair

But do know what has happen

Never again be so careless with words

Words are what create worlds

But words also leave behind hiroshimas

Do not toss them like children toys

Goodbye my love, until the next dream you taunt me in

 

A Vinyl Life

There are many objects in this world. To children an object is always theirs. Many adults think of objects and hear Tyler Durden’s voice telling how they are just “working jobs we hate so we can buy crap we don’t need.” Certain artists see objects as canvases to connect souls with. One man’s object is another’s life driving force. Writers fight over the best way to understand objects and how words combine to describe objects. Philosophers sit in rooms asking about the inception of objects and ideal versions of objects. For me objects are the tools which I try to define the world and the ideas of life around me. I enjoy finding the metaphoric value of objects.

An object that I love for its face value and the ideas it holds underneath, is the vinyl record. Hipster, I know. There is something, however, about vinyl, that brings something deeper than a CD or mp3 player. Within the music and through the process, something else yearns to be learned and heard from vinyl. I have listened to vinyl for several years now and believe vinyl have several ways of explaining life and our story within time’s pages.

 

Here is how vinyl captures life and some lessons it has taught me.

• Life’s imperfections add character to the story if you let it. Vinyl is not perfect quality audio, but the scratches tell the history of the album.
• This life can seem like it is only going in circles, but you are always moving forward and the song with soon change.
• Some scars go deep and can hold us in place. The only way to move forward is an outside bump.
• There is no pause buttons, if you walk away you might miss something good.
• Sometimes to fully enjoy an album, one must stop and listen to it from start to end. Life is the same, some parts do not make sense until everything is over and we can look back at what was happening.
• The quality of a life is only judged after every note has been played.
• Some songs or sides of life take a second to start; learn to wait in the silent white noise of life.
• Life is distorted if lived too fast or too slow, the Musician has a set speed for our album.
• People listen to the entirety of a vinyl, it is never to early to start producing a good song for those listening.
• Someone is always listening.
• Play something that others will ask the needle to replay until the needle brakes.

What objects speak to you? What lessons to you see in the vinyl record?

Climbing Kilimanjaro

There are moments in a person’s life that last forever. Be it 7 words, a kiss, or street sign, common things can cause uncommon stirrings.  Maybe the perfect words happen to come together to formulate a powerful sentence.  Could have been the air that caused that kiss to be more memorable than others. A street sign would have gone unnoticed if not for the blend of friendship laughter, winter air, and cigar smoke.  We are never completely aware why these moments stick and others are quickly forgotten, but regardless we are most human when these moments happen. When stirrings happen within us, I believe they are outside forces pushing us along the songs of time. We are always held to account for our reactions to the stirrings, or passions, that our souls burn for.

For me stirrings often happen in the company of friends on cold winter porches, tobacco pipe and cigars in hands. Other times it is in solitary, when my mind and my soul run loud and nothing but creation is heard. Regardless of the place or time, a catalyst is always needed. Recently, this came in the form a cancer survivor and a unknowingly strong sentence.

It was a cool morning and I was out surfing. It was a quiet morning as the waves rolled by, at some point this loud group of people came out and joined the waiting on the ocean. The group was loud, slightly annoying, and being taught how to catch waves by some guides. After catching a wave in with a girl from this group, we talked as we swam back out. She explained this was her third day out this week, and the group was cancer survivors from around the states. She herself lived in the east coast, and this was a week-long trip in Cali. It was through some organization that put on 40 or some odd adventure trips a year. Most of the trips were in the states, and did things like rafting, hiking, and other outdoorsy type ventures. Apparently, they had just added Peru and Kilimanjaro for the more serious members. It was a short conversation, and by the time she had finish tell me about their group we were already back out. As she finished talking, I mentioned how Kilimanjaro was on my bucket-list; and her reply still rings in my ears, “Yea, I have a pretty f*cked up bucket-list” (this meant in a I want to hang-glide-off-of-Everest and tightrope-Russia-to-Alaska uses of the phrase)

“… a pretty f*cked up bucket-list”

Trains of thoughts erupted in my mind. I started wondering what list I would make if someone told me that I could die soon. Obviously we could all die at anytime, but when a person has cancer it is a lot more of a tangible thing than just philosophizing about death. Cancer is a daily reminder of mortality and not easily forgotten after five mins. Thus someone who is dying has a better idea of a bucket-list than some 19-something guy who forgets he is not immortal.

The biggest thing that kept coming up when I was thinking over this was relationships.
If death was upon me, I would like to go on some big adventures. However, we are not survived by our memories, but rather in the memories of others and how we affected them. I want to do things that leave a positive mark on others, and things better off for those that follow. I want to live a life that pours into others with every opportunity. A life that leads to others being restored or being made known to their Lover. I want young men to see my life and seek after wisdom and understanding. I want call others to find their passions and run with them. And if all else fails then I would be happy with those in my reach knowing their Father loves them. To leave others with the knowledge that they are truly loved by Yahweh, is to me a worthwhile bucket-list.

I still want to travel Europe, climb Kilimanjaro, and scuba dive in the Galápagos, but I am also seeking more than just thrill stories. I want to risk it all for those relationships around me; and if given a opportunity, go on adventures that build relationships with others. I recently watched a documentary about a guy who took two boy on a surfing trip around the world, just so he could pour into them.

Seek thrill, build relationships, take risks. Leave behind a legacy that you can sit at life’s end and say you gave it all for those around you.

What is on your bucket-list? Are you taking risks to create friendships that last? What risks do you need to take in your life? 

Chapter 1 ~ Gray hairs searching for resolution.

He walked down the leaf and dust-covered street. It was dusk and a cool breeze rolled through the trees. A pipe rested in his hands, which were cold from the Autumn wind warning of winter’s approach. This street had long known of this man and his walks. Day upon day he carefully and thoughtfully walked the road’s length only to come to the end and return home. He pulled his brown jacket and hat in tight to guard against the wind. He had something of a beard upon his wrinkled face. This beard, a rusty-brown color, failed to match with the gray hair on top of his head. One did not easily stare into his eyes, and those who did could not remember the color. His eyes, seated deep in to his head, seemed to shift colors as they stare off into the distance, as if nothing could hold them to this reality.

His home was of a ripe old age. Paint that once was a vibrant dark green now peeled from its walls. It was no wonder to behold, but to this man it was heaven’s bounty. It was a small house, one that is only really found in the country sides. It held little inside: a table resided in the kitchen; the living room held a chair and desk littered with papers; and the bedroom held nothing but a bed and nightstand with candles upon it. It would be well to note that books also were found lying around the house, for there was no bookshelf. The old man loved these books. The books were one of the few things he had to pass his time, each one had been carefully read in his calloused hands.

Life moved slow and the man only knew slow for sometime now. At his house and on this road he had confined himself for the better part of some ten or fifteen years, only leaving for town every couple of weeks for food, paper, and books. Many in the town knew little of him, and often what they thought they knew was all hearsay. Regardless what people agree on of his past, anyone who had lost someone or something could see that a great loss weighed heavy on his heart. He looked cold and heartless, but the wise knew that this was only from losing something so great that numbness was the only cure. As there are physical aliments that plague the mortal body, some that have no cure except for the grave, there are also heart aliments that cling to a soul and find no resolution in this lifetime. This man had no resolution, as a vinyl stuck on an ending, he could not find the last note to end and make sense of what came before….

Dreams of Gray and a Sunrise

 

I sit in a hotel room, a six-day resident and six more nights claim my stay. The air outside is dry and hot, inside it is cold and stale. A cup of hotel coffee sits next to me. The burn on my tongue is proof to the freshness of the drink. Macklemore plays in my speakers, the only noise except for the air conditioner’s constant hum. Life is slow at this moment. I stare at this screen in front of me. So many thoughts flow through my head. So many emotions grab hold of my heart, which has been a constant state as of late. Every time I close my eyes a new memory fills my thoughts….

I am standing outside a two-story house. It looks like old, but my vision is not clear and darkness surround the edges. Trees reach tall into the sky around me. I look up at the top floor of house and see lights on inside. I feel my emotions change. I know who is coming, even before I see her face. A hand grabs my shoulder and body comes around from behind me. She looks into my eyes, dirty blond hair swinging round. Her face is lit up, and a smile produced that Aphrodite would have coveted. My heavy heart looks on in loneliness and regret. Her hands touch my face and pull me in for a kiss. Instantly, my regrets fades and a weight lifted. I know this will be the last I see of her, but my heart rest in what feels like closure….

I open my eyes and remember that the regret still lingers, bitter taste still in my mouth. Relationships are one of the most sacred element to story, and when any well told story ends emotions still linger on in hearts. Our person is often made up, though not defined, by our experiences and surrounding stories. Some stories are true, others written to grab hold of hearts and remind them of lost emotions…

Another dreams pulls my mind away from reality. This time I share a bench with another fair maiden. She sits next to me, smile on her face and joy radiating from her skin. This dream is lighter than the previous, no remorse or fears threaten the horizon.  As we sit we talk of nothing holding importance,  only things to pass the time but not remembered long. She then lays her head on my shoulder. In this moment the dream takes pause. I feel the heat of a summer sun upon my face, and the my dark heart all at once feels a warmth that it used to know. Blood fills my veins and feeling returns to my body. It had been many months and a cold winter since I had felt this warmth. It was the warmth that is grabs hold of a broken man and tells him that once again he is love, accepted, and desired. “Ignominy thirst for respect”…

As I think upon dreams of love and remorse, I find no real resolution. The heart is a fickle thing in which no man can truly trust or understand. The mind and heart work together to ruin a man, yet in the same respect they are used together to save a man. I fear holding to the dreams which my mind creates to prey on my soul, for with them my mind and heart seek to destroy and plague with insanity. No, instead I learn how my mind thinks and my heart feels, but quickly dismiss these dream in fear of the irrational seizing hold of me. Again, though, I am torn, are my dreams a natural catharsis? Are they my body’s way of invoking an awaking of old emotions? And would pushing them away lead to a return to numb emotions?…

“What use is a story that does not invoke emotion from the readers. Any story worth telling, finds that it bring forth a common emotion from all. Every good epic leads to feelings of love, despair and the emotion in-between. And good endings are merely a resolution to the storm of emotion, whether it is happy or not.”

 

A Blind Man and A Compass

“And the clouds finally gave way, but the men on the ship knew not how to read the stars and the captain was blind. The ship was therefore aptly named Apollumi (which means lost, destroyed, and useless)”

Those who know me, know that I have a strong desire to lead. Don’t get me wrong  it is not because I like being in charge or having power over others, but rather due to a stirring within me. It is where I feel at home. My purpose feel fulfilled when I can lead. Leading invokes my mind, body, and soul.  I am not so naïve to believe that it is an easy thing either. When you lead, every choice made falls on you, whether you knew of the choice or not. A leader is no longer responsible for just his choices, but the choices of every other person underneath him as well. We always judge leaders by the choices of those underneath. I look back at my life and often see that mistakes I made directly affected those in leadership over me. Those above me were, rightly or not, judged for my actions. Leaders are held to the highest standards of any people group, often times only to fail and be crucified. Leaders do not have easy life. No, I do not desire to be a leader because it is easy or, at least I pray not, from some oversized ego in need of stoking. I seek to become a leader because it is where my life has purpose. It is the noble theme placed on my heart by my Molder.

With my end goal that of becoming a leader, I am always seeking out what makes good leaders and where I need to grow before I can lead others. (I would add that good leaders never really stop growing. I, however, believe that some qualities or lessons God has to teach us before He can use us to our full potential.) One of these qualities I am in need of is vision casting. I realized that I have a hard time coming up with visions in my own life. How, therefore, am I to lead others in following and seeing though a vision if I cannot lead myself in a vision?

I could take you through my train of thought with this concept of vision, but for the sake of being concise I am just going to show where I stand currently. I believe that God is the Giver of Visions. I hold to faith in that He has visions He desires me to seek out and see through to the end. So in that view there is a certain amount of waiting on Him to inspire us; however, I believe there are proactive steps that we must take. Before God can entrust us with long haul vision, we must learn to be good stewards of little visions. I believe that if we are seeking God then he will place visions before us. Often, though, we do not seek out these visions, and we write them off too quickly, training ourselves to ignore vision. This is where I am currently. I realized that I have been ignoring the little visions God has put in front of me and now struggle to have visions.

Recognition, though, is only as good as the actions that follow. In seeing that I have not cultivated anything in regards to the skill of vision casting, I came up with a list of goals. Visions often require several different goals to be completed in order to complete the vision.  My first step then is to get good at setting and completing goals. Visions are a step by step process. We must first learn to complete steps or goals, before we can even worry about completing  the whole visions. When we are baking cookies we start by taking the first step that the recipe calls for. Goal making and completing is one of my first steps in learning to cast visions. Secondly, learning to grab hold of any vision that passes me, looking for the small ones that I normally let just pass by. Sometimes the most helpful thing is merely identifying that which we do not unrecognizable or look for, because afterwords we learn to see the signs of it’s approach.

So here are some of my goals I have set: (I set these a week or two ago)

• Apply for college in order to complete my Bachelor. (Which starts with looking for a college)
• Attend college in spring if feasible
• Save a set amount of money from each pay check
• Start tracking every cent I spend, follow through with a budget and living a pay check ahead.
• Read a book a month (already started one this one, currently reading Les Miserables)
• Gym(check);  Gain ten pounds; Cut back on ice cream and fast food
• Read my bible once a day (looked at my journal and it has been a couple of months since I have read avidly)
• Blog once a week with either short stories, thoughts on a subject, accountability on my visions seeking, book reviews.

These are some goals that I have set. Not necessarily set with a complete vision in mind, but in order to start seeking vision.

My current vision that I found is this:

• Throw a backyard BBQ for church youth group at my house (I have a sweet fireplace and grill!)

Steps

1. Clean and fix up some of the damage to porch
2. Get proper supplies
3. Throw party

My vision and goals. Easy as one, two, three.

What is the noble theme God has placed in your heart? What is the next step you need to take to get closer to it? What are some goals or a vision you need to jot down and move forward on?