Eden Lola.

Comm-unity

2012-02-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

What defines a community for you? Is it food? Is it a physical commune? Is it a place, a set of people, a family, tradition? Last night I was forced with this question, right in the face. Slammed like a door into my nose, was the bang of community upon my head. I found myself in a place sitting and craving for fellowship and communal activity and conversation. I longed for, desired for, the familiarity of certain people, certain character traits evident in group situations, the highs and lows of multi member events and the fun and laughs that go with it.

I found myself in a social situation yet desperately lonely in a sea of people; amidst smiling faces and chatting laughter I felt despondently saddened and let down by my circumstances. I'd just engaged in one of the most spiritually powerful church services I'd had in a long time, yet despite the filling of the Spirit and the overwhelming presence of God that I felt, my heart still stood calling for a familiar faces. Not just someone I knew, but someone who knew me well.

It's an interesting thing. One can quote, jokingly, that no man is an island, but it's ultimately very true. No man can exist as his own entity upon a vast sea. It's an unforgiving force that will lap at you, break at you, stand on you, and as an island you'll have no one to hear your cries or at least offer empathy. No man, despite his utter defiance can exist of his own accord. We were made as humans to be in organisms with other humans, in circles and situations that at least have the option of a helping hand, a smiling face or a conversation partner. We want to share the stories of our lives, even if they're boring - the train ride to work or the taste of the burger you ate last night. Stripped of our trend, our shine, our attitude, we're desperate people looking around at each other begging for a friend.

Perhaps I deal with this situation in a more confronting manner than most - I have, just recently, removed myself from a community I felt most comfortable in, in the effort of achieving some maturing time, some space to extradite who I had thought I was meant to be into a place that newly defined who I am. Except I never got to fully find out who I am, or any deep eschatological solutions. Sure, I gained a new perspective on my life; on where I was possibly heading and learnt much of my strengths and my weaknesess. But I knew that I lacked, very soulfully and transparently, a communion of voices in my life that supported me, stood by me and stood for me. I actually became sad because of this. Not constantly, not deeply, but there were parts of me that cried out to receive admonition from my friends, from those who assumed roles of family, from people in my life: from community.

I did, most certainly, search for such beauty of characters in many places. And, came out empty handed but not without a few scars. The something so enigmatic about community seems to make it that much harder to find. That much harder to dig in and retrieve and hold onto; knowing that there are others holding onto the same thing as you with same purpose and passion. I found myself in some interesting ruts of life, caught in the tension of a desperate want but a telling no from the heart. I could see myself in places with certain people in my life, and sure, by public viewing that would define community, but by personal survey it would define disparity. I became a lost soul in search of a surface to rest. But the more I tried the more tired I became.

Until last week.

Last week I returned to the place where it all started. To the very place I sought to leave to 'find' myself; and yet on return I ended up finding myself back there all along. A place to rest. To realise. And to respect. Respect the surroundings of voices, characters, stories and smiling faces that welcomed me and ushered me back into a place where godly stewardship of new creation was taking place. Community. It's not the thing that is most glamorous and beautiful, where the bright lights shine and the big city puts on fireworks every night. It's the place where your heart can skip a beat, where you soul can skip to sleep, where you feel rested yet in full glory of who you've been made to be. Where the ins and outs of who you are are both appreciated and abhorred,but in a manner that says 'we know, but we still care'. It's the place where you can come running in, emotionally tumultuous or mindfully silent and still be accepted and rejoiced when seen. The place where standing within those around you, you feel safe and secure. You can make bad jokes and still get laughs, plead for stupid things and perhaps even get some sympathy, or merely leave the entire decision of what to order at a restaurant up to others and still know that you're gonna get something you'll love.

What is your community? Where is your home? How would you define rest within others? It's a palpable issue that defines who we are - don't shrug, or read ignorantly. There is a need within all of us to crave people around us to show and give love. A formulaic dependency on the heart that says one is not enough, that a gathering of similar hearts and minds create a picture of beauty in commune and care. Think of a meal shared with friends, the passing of the plates, the conversation, the busy chatter of voices in echo and abundance of joy. The community from shared experience and understanding. Of in jokes and laughter - but most importantly, of the understanding of one another within contexts.

I realised recently just how privileged I was to be surrounded by people that not only understood my bright side, but my flawed side. My disparate tendencies to err in character, my longing for affirmation, despising of patronising physical touch, and constant appreciation for familial understanding. From where else could I receive such perfect understanding, withstanding, and personified kinship? I am an extremely lucky and blessed girl to be in a place in my life where I can turn to others, quite literally and cry out that I just want "to be with people I love and know". That all I want is a friend, and yet, despite my request, I'm surrounded by many of them.

My night came to end at a Denny's dinner table in conversation with a friend. I spoke about returning to my previous community and he asked, "are you homesick?". And the answer is yes. I'm craving my home of brothers and sisters, friends and frenemies, of those I know well and are yet to know well. Of the old but the loved, of the usual and the unusual. I'm craving my home. I'm craving my community.

Perhaps instead of constantly searching for greener pastures, one should inspect the field you're in. Take in all that is yours to understand and all that is understood about you. A community is an element of holy gathering in fellowship, appreciation and loved understanding of one another. A place where flaws are celebrated and personalities left shining. It's neither a religious effort nor is it stripped of spiritual significance either. Your community exists both physically but metaphorically. Never doubt it's power, or it's ability to define and re-define. Treat it with respect, care, and proof of it's ability. Community is a beautiful, beautiful thing because it speaks into every one one of us. Into every soul and heart that beats at a drum set for togetherness. We are humans born into a world of many because we were meant to live like that. Within many, achieving life together. Know strength in character, and know it even better within other characters. Life is a rollercoaster, but it comes with many different seats so that you, and your community can ride it together. Ducking and diving at same speed and height, screaming and yelling and scared but knowing that you're doing it together. You're doing life, in community.

Perhaps most deliberate about community is the decision to enjoy it authentically. There is no greater frustration than a group of people together for the sake of it, no inherent reason or appreciation for the souls surrounding them, but rather the bodies creating a physical presence. There is something to be said for beautiful community, but there is also something to be distinguished between that and a mere gathering of people. Community is a tried and true effect, not a tried and re-tried and constantly tried effect of togetherness. As I said earlier, despite my presence within a sea of people, I still managed to feel alone. I was without connection, despite the connections around me. This was not my community. Perhaps if I stayed for long enough, fought hard enough, and stood my ground it would be - but what is there to gain from a fighting place of love? For what more could I receive over time by fighting to be appreciated? The glory of communal acceptance is that out of the abundance of hearts it flows. It's neither a pushed perception but an ergo'd conclusion. From it you receive peace, joy and a beautiful glorification of each other in a manner that is meek, humbled and human.

Community. Once again, I re-iterate, is a beautiful, beautiful thing. It encompasses highs and lows, authentic and deliberate encounters and calls to live lives for purposes beyond each other. Jesus enjoyed community the very night before he died, the anniversaries of people's lives are celebrated together with others, big occasions are marked with people in celebration because there is something, something about togetherness. Something so truthful about our desperate souls reaching out to others to create what is an enigmatic deliverance of home.

Community.

Birthday Candles

2012-01-22T17:51:00.000-08:00

The conundrum of age and wisdom, and whether or not these grow together in person, has been confounding me lately. I've been plagued by significant decisions which need to be made lately, the kind that aren't life changing but life altering. Minor ideas that permeate a greater expanse than I'd like have found themselves situated comfortably in the forefront of my mind. I've woken up at 2 in the morning constraining to find clarity in a head full of thoughts, thought patterns, and menial lyrics from songs that are far too catchy; unable to sleep because I can't come to a neatly, organised resolution in all of it.

"Oh bother!" I've cried (in denser terms). I've wretched at my complete inability to come a point of absolute truth in decision. I'm caught in the tension of yes's and no's. Of maybe's and why not's. Of 'it means nothing' to 'it means absolutely everything'. What's happening? Where are my days of sweet smiles and understanding paths. Of clear choices based on what's right and wrong and probably not a good idea anyway.

I stir relentlessly at all of this. I'm someone who enjoys the manner of boundaries, rules, mutual understandings and agreements on the 'right way'. However lately the right way has turned into a contorted maze of contradictory voices and thoughts. Why can't I solve all my problems? Why can't everything just have an answer? Why can't an issue be resolved and become a mere 'learning experience' that can never be endured again?

Perhaps. Because. Some problems, just can't be solved. And growing up is realising this. Perhaps because the increased number of 'problems' has increased at general pace with my entrance into the 'grown up world'. The world where bitter heart ache, turmoil and stupidity, can't be disguised by a story book or an age restriction. A world where decisions do have to be made, not by a guardian, a parent, an older friend, but by my own self. Perhaps, I'm growing up. I'm aging - in the meaning that with age comes wisdom, an innate understanding that some things don't make sense but we make do anyway. And perhaps this is a problem that can't be solved.

Age. It's not a number. But an intrinsic truth. An innate understanding that comes with years lived on earth. Where emotionally you believe in things that don't need solving. That don't need to be in squares, have ruled lines, and can dwell in mystery with a complete comfortability. There is admiration in the blank, in the unknown, in the deepest of the depths. I think there's beauty in the steps of a person who's not entirely sure but has conviction enough to engage with it anyway. Who makes decisions with full intent of good, but understands that some things may not work out that way.

If I could have my life laid out for me, with neat arrows, diagrams, and bullet points, I'd gladly accept it. I'd map it out and look for the exciting parts, dread the sad, and save for the poor. But life is not like that. And with reason. Despite my dismay and despondence, there is a gorgeous illuminance in all of this. I'm still going to wake up in frustration because I can't make a decision. I'm still going to get upset at myself because the self is the biggest problem that can't be solved. I'm still going to cry "oh bother!" (in even denser terms) when things just don't go 'my way'. But I will learn from it. And although each process probably won't end up neatly packed in a box, left in the attic of life to draw when I need it, in fact some problems may never end, I'll at least console myself with understanding the inevitable.

I'm only 19. Yup. 19. And I have so many more problems to encounter it's daunting. But I'm ready. I feel like the last twelve months added years of age onto me, or perhaps I just encountered the real world for the first time. The biggest problem I wish I could solve - would, as I said, be myself. Entrench my heart onto one point and just exist from there on; live less regretfully and with more conviction. With more authenticity in a world that chooses to solve problems by merely creating more. But it's not that easy. I'm only 19. I feel 25, perhaps sometimes I act like I'm 15. I wish I was rather 21. I dream of being 22. I looking forward to being 50. But it means nothing when confronted with the significance of what these ages will mean to me, and my life, at that time. Will my problems be solved?
No.
But I'll be old enough to deal with it.

Hold fast.

2011-11-08T01:38:00.000-08:00

Hold fast. To what you know is true. And if you can't be sure of knowing it then go for it anyway. For those moments when you feel like you've been jilted or let down or something isn't right - look for what is. Know that there is so much right in the world falling for the wrong is you letting yourself down, but worse, letting down the people who care so much about you.

Hold fast. Not just to what you believe in but what you believe yourself to be, in the future. Knowing that every night has a morning and the darkest is before the dawn. Understand that to understand beauty and freedom we must understand pain and the cold hard brutality of life. The moments when your entire being is forced to cry out and you wonder why it's worth it. Hold fast. Hold so fast you have got nothing left and your nails are near digging into your hand because the only thing you know for real, at that moment, is the breath you have and the tears down your face.

Hold fast and know that it gets better. It honestly gets better. HOLD FAST. Don't expect it to get better in a day, a week or a year. But give yourself the grace to look back in a decade and acknowledge that things suck but that things got better. Just hold, hold on so fast that there is nothing else for you to but be hopeful. Nothing else than to just know that one day you'll be so far over it you can tell jokes about it to people you don't even know.

Hold fast. Hold and know your worth, and if you struggle to understand the meaning of it understand that you exist and for you to be made worth had to have been there. So much worth that life and love came out of you and now it's time for you to use it. Don't lose it. Don't stop it. Just hold on and know that it's a journey, it's a bumpy road but you'll get to a mountain top and the view will be magnificent and you'll see the valley and smile, laugh at how tiny it looks and acknowledge that yes the road was hard but you're here now. Who can take that away from you?

One day, when you're running the race of life, and you're heading straight for the glorious end that is really the beginning, you'll see those running with you and you'll know that they held fast too. They clung on to the worth that they knew existed and have chosen to pull through and go for it. Go for it so hard there was nothing else to do but run. Run for the hills so they can shout songs of triumph from the top of them. Run for the valleys so they can help those within them. And you'll be running too. Holding fast and running and knowing nothing can stop you because you're holding. You're holding fast.

"No man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you." Joshua 1:5

Factory Girl Obsession.

2011-09-12T01:33:00.000-07:00

Watched Factory Girl the other day - the (slightly romanticised) story of Edie Sedgwick, Andy Warhol's superstar and for a long time, America's 'it' girl. I've become infatuated with the art direction of the movie, Sienna Miller's portrayal of Edie and the general ambiguity of the entire film.

I've also, of course, become obsessed with Edie. Her story, is actually a sad one. Coming from a horrible family of heartbreak and affairs, she ends up dying of a drug overdose despite attempts to come clean. The woman was a superstar though, an 'it' girl before it was cool to be an 'it' girl. And beautiful, she was beautiful.

Boom Kack

2011-08-25T19:49:00.000-07:00

I've come to realise that sayings such as 'wow, isn't life just like a rollercoaster' or 'wow isn't life just crazy' are redundant statements. I used to think of life just as this flat plateau of being and it was up to you to enjoy the ride. That being who you were was the journey of choice you chose to take. That having a personality was your way of making the smooth journey from birth to death one that seemed enjoyable. But what I thought was all wrong.

Life is dynamic. Life is ever changing. Life is a rollercoaster. Life is not a plateau, or a straight timeline. It's a manic ever changing entity upon itself. With this in mind, we must not look at it with fear (for the only thing we should fear should be the Creator, the one who got this whole thing started in the first place), but rather have a plan of attack. We must wake up every morning with the hope that what could come of today could be glorious, but also heartbreaking, what we could become in today could be even better.

It's a process of growing up, and also maturing (two different things, might I add). It's an evolution of self in the constant moving of the new world.

Once we know this, once we understand, we'll see that regrets are memories made, to last and to explain. That lessons are learned the hard way if they're done the right way, that life is what you make of it, because you never want life to make something out of you first.

This is all so warm, fuzzy and unintentionally cliche'd. But I couldn't believe that even after 19 years of living I only just understood the basic property of life.

Why I'll Never Be An Illiterate Girl

2011-08-24T21:55:00.001-07:00

http://www.sexandfashion.net/2011/08/you-should-date-an-illiterate-girl/

This article, is... phenomenal. Life changing. Beautiful. And just so flippin' well written. Read it for the goodness of mankind, at least.

London Fury

2011-08-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

My heart has been broken at the chaos erupting from the London riots. For me it's more than just 'look at all the damage that's having to be cleaned up' thing, it's the sign of how far my generation has come from understanding truth and power.

Power is said to be the most important aspect in relationships, business, the economy and love. It's the greatest demonstration of ideology and belief in action. So why do thousands of youths think that the best way to show power is by breaking down doors and destroying buildings? Why is it that they believe dominance and opinion can only be shown by pillaging so heavily, London's sky is dark with smoke from fire? And it's more than just the physical matter of grey smoke, but the metaphor of full obscurity of what truly constitutes a call for help.

My belief is that words are power, that words are the cause for revolution and change. Iconic speeches of past and laws of future have been and will be engraved with words that have meaning. Words are beautiful, powerful, strong and charismatic. They transcend culture and nation, they emote feelings, they cause fury, they cause love, but most of all, they cause our brains to think.

Why, WHY do these London rioters believe they're making a point when all they're doing is making pain? Their actions are falling flat, but as they fall they're bringing many things down with them. The injuries, and even deaths sustained during the last few days of erratic defiance are going to be sad blots in the history of the world, that I thought, had come much further than this.

The entire world has only looked on, almost marveled at the sheer ludicrous nature of the rioters. Images I saw today of riot police having to protect the entrance way to a hospital stood out. Have we come so far in disaster that the site of healing must be protected from the antagonisers of harm? People's voices calling for peace are almost lost in the cacophony of voices that are asking how this could happen. Are we losing trust in the armed forces we're meant to have hope in? Or are we just losing trust in ourselves?

Who is to blame? Who do we ask for to help? Is this just 'another one of those things' that makes us shrug our shoulders at the world and 'wonder what's coming next'? Or perhaps, is this maybe one of the things that's going to make people all over the world finally sit up and pay attention. Does it take the ransacking of suburbs to awaken a nation, or do we have to wait for more?

Peace is hurting. I'm thousands of kilometres away and I can hear it's calls for substantive change in our nations, but more importantly, in our philosophies. Share truth, not scandal. Share love, not harm. Stop standing up for things which only matter to you, but for things with only matter to you because they matter to so many other people too.

Use power to it's full potential, in lasting ways. Don't burn down a building, for it will only be built again. Then what? Write truth, engrave speech. Keep true. If we could live our lives convicted to our passions, then our world will stop burning itself down, but rather build itself up. Amen.

SUZE

2011-07-29T16:29:00.000-07:00

Greetings fellow friends. Yes a formal salutation, but it's 11.20 on a Saturday morning and I'm still in track pants, I've got to find class somehow.

A week of incredulous events that happened in such quick succession I wasn't able to be amazed by either of them. Enjoyed a lovely night out last night, checked out a gig and hit the mean streets of town (and the drive thru of Burger King) with a good friend and had some good laughs.

Been greatly appealed by the rolled up pants, socks visible, shoes casual combo that seems to be parading the corridors of my university lately. However as a good friend once said to me "your shoes are having a party, tell them to invite the pants down for it". Maybe in a year or two I'll gag at this paragraph after all.

Got great plans for the weekend? I of course do, the measure of greatness perhaps not best in comparison but in single pride. Speaking at an event today with the mother, perhaps hitting up some quality political intellectualism tonight, and doing the ol' churchey church tomorrow. Singing in the band too, which is something to look forward to, at least.

I'm also attempting to finish an article I'm writing. It still absolutely terrifies me that writing is something I am, not just want to be. And by golly it's a frightful choice of life sometimes.

Here we go, a picture, to end this ramble with a spot of beauty, because there really is nothing more quirky than a neon zebra:

Fantastic Spiderweb

2011-07-25T00:50:00.000-07:00

Had one of those glorious, enigmatic feelings today when I realised just how magnificent my friends are. I titled this blog fantastic spiderweb because I feel like that's how my friends are. An web of connections around me, that I've spun over long periods of time. And they'll always be there for me to fall back on, and be caught on, and often cling to with all I can as I make my way through this 'life' thing.

Also, ten points for me and my winning metaphor.

Had a magnificent weekend that revolved around baking and eating said baking. I also attempted to tackle university readings, and come up with great ways to get money that involves me doing nothing. Incidentally neither of such plans came to great fruition.

Hai hai though this week is going to be the megatron of productive autobots. Planned it all out and even included gym time on the schedule (yes I know, I'm so sophisticated). Also I am attempting to drink less coffee (coff scoff you say) and so I'm making the move onto apples as a pick me up. However I've noted that apples don't come in nice cup containers that are easy to carry around and make you look snobby (especially when accessorised with sunglasses). A serious first world problem of mine.

Alright alright enough banter for now. A 20 piece breakdown on the "real meaning of democracy" calls me. It has been calling me for a while now but I have been ignoring it's somber tones of boredom in exchange for the bright lights of my laptop. Too much though, I'm starting to retweet on Twitter like I don't have anything witty to say myself. (I don't).

Au revoir mes amies! (That was probably awful French. Catch ya soon interweb).

Gettin' Down on Friday.

2011-07-14T19:52:00.000-07:00

In Newmarket (Nuffield St) with dear Georgia. Lunch and sunshine.

Set Your Mind.

2011-07-14T19:49:00.000-07:00

Colossians, Chapter 3: Put on the new self.
"Set your minds on things that are above, and not on things that are on earth".

Although this verse stands more in the context of realising the grace and beauty of new life with Christ, it's really sprung to me as I look to move into semester two of this year. I'm determined to have a bangin' part deux to my year, and to make it happen I'm going to pick myself up, and set my mind high.

And of course, staying classy. One must always stay classy. Know that you're HB and things will be fine.

There I go quoting from the Bible again.

2011-06-29T19:29:00.000-07:00

"...but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious." 1 Peter 3:4

I don't think God's the only one to find a gentle and quiet spirit precious. I think there's such power to a girl who has strength in herself and power within her just be.

And that's not just to be said about girls either though, I think any person with a conviction for who they has so much greater power. The old cliche of 'you're original, there's no one else like you around' stands quite true when the reality of it is tested. That's not to say that you have no other choice but to be yourself, but quite truly the best choice is to be yourself.

I'm such a namby pamby writer of good feelings, aren't I? But I think it really think it is, after all, an imperishable beauty.

Morning Glory.

2011-05-30T17:14:00.000-07:00

I was greeted by this sight as I walked into my first class this morning. So beautiful! It was also the last 8am morning I'll have for the rest of the year. Glorious!

Had a bit of a topsy turvy day yesterday; got given some fantastic news that had me so elated, then got myself into such a bad mood afterwards. I find it so surreal how our brains are so powerful in changing our moods so fervently.

I went onto biblegateway.com this morning and was greeted by this verse of the day: “In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?” - Psalm 56:4. How amazing is that. And so incredibly true, as well. What can flesh do to me, after all? Whom have I to fear or to dictate how I feel?

This Tuesday is going to be glorious, because I believe it is. And because I have no reason to fear anyone, or anything. Amen!

OH hey there I survived the end of the world.

2011-05-22T13:17:00.000-07:00

Ridiculously lacking in blog posts lately. Life just went by in a whirlwind, and I emerged extremely windswept from the week. Even though I had such great intentions!

Give me time, I'll get this thing running like a coffee shop on a Monday morning.

Tuesday morning in the City.

2011-05-16T19:59:00.000-07:00

8am class on a Tuesday means things are a little rough around the edges. Stopped in at Starbucks and wrote before I headed off to a two hour class (often called torture but today it wasn't so bad). I had my camera with me, and something about today made me pick up on the quirky things I tend to just ignore.

There's something about putting 'goodness' into your life that has benefits on the major. I've really tried lately to not drink so much fizzy, not eat so much chocolate, actually workout everyday and read instead of sit on FB all night. And it's been amazing! I have more energy and I'm generally more optimistic about things. I know it's so simple but have you ever looked at your life and seen how you can clean it up?

I've also noted that about people - who we surround ourselves with is who we can become. We have to question who is good for our lives; and I think there's something significant about who our friends are and then just who are the people we know. And it's totally okay to be super tight about it. Crazy, simple truths. But I think they're truths for a reason.

Anyway here's a mini photo essay of my morning, and subsequent afternoon that saw me get on the wrong bus, then get off at the wrong stop (after resolving to just walk to where I needed to be I got off far too early) and then had to call my mother to pick me up. I'm so mature sometimes it scares me. I'm attempting to be abstract and artistic (I blame playing with a fancy camera earlier in the week, and because I walked through the design building at university today and felt quite diminutive when it came to creative spirit), forgive me if I get it all wrong. Wait, isn't that being arty?

My Starbucks cup complimented me this morning. How kind.

On the way to class. St. Pauls Church with the sun shining right behind it. Gorgeous.

View from my 8am class. Not bad, really.

The footpath I walked on white waiting for my mother. So bland, I know, but I found the pattern of the leaves so entrancing, and pretty, especially on a dreary concrete path.

Coffee Hope

2011-05-13T15:57:00.000-07:00

Most mornings this week I've found myself in Starbucks. How consumerist of me, I know. But I often have an hour or so to kill before a lecture or class, so I grab a coffee and a seat in the local Starbucks by uni. I enjoy sitting by the window, giving me a clear view of the busy street, and the hordes of people unloading from busses looking mostly disgruntled.

I also use this time to read my Bible, although I have time to do so before I leave the house, I find my time is taken up by cereal choosing and my inability to have a clean pair of jeans when I need them. What I have noticed, however, is that my mornings have been, in a word, very hopeful.

I've found this week that I've gathered a new sense of life, and my mornings in a coffee haven have really made me realise the extent to which the human race is graced with the ability to hope. Even in the midst of the drama in the world, earthquakes, killings and increasing political dissension.

Hope is without doubt one of the greatest elements I believe in. I have always clung to the things hope stands for and the things hope can bring. Hope for me, is the resolution in the midst of distress. It's the clinging of heart to light and desperation for revelation.

Unfortunately selfish decisions, narcissism and belligerence has caused this world, my generation, to brush off hopelessness and indict themselves as their personal saviours. But I don't believe that looking for direction in something as fallible as yourself is a beneficent way of living. It's as though the one who hopes, who believes in the optimism of promise, is the weaker naive person in society. In a culture that emphasises the self so much, how can we blame the stereotype? We've come to the point where let down and disappointment are excessively common features in humanity, yet still, in their profundity, appear to be the greatest shocks to any human. We're afraid to hope, because we know where it might lead us; hurt, disappointment and anger.

Elementally, we usher in a philosophy of fear, but name it 'dealing with the world' or just 'manning up'. We place ourselves on defence because we fear what the vulnerability of hope could do to us. Do you remember, as a child, always having a brash optimism about things? Hoping in the unknown, believing in the unseen? Children are fearless. They have no comprehension of the fallibilities of human nature yet. Instead of disregarding their dispositions, perhaps we could look to them as models to emulate? I'm not calling for us to lose intelligence and play in sandpits, I'm suggesting a realignment of philosophies, so we can remember what fearless felt like.

Hope, HOPE! is magnificent.

I believe in a living hope, one that I've been granted through the grace of Jesus. But Christian persuasion or not, I think there's a quality to a thought process that ends in optimism. I'm not saying go out into the world believing the sun will always shine and daises will always bloom. Instead I'm calling for a theory of dignity. Dignity in the understanding that things may be melancholic for a while, but there is always something to look forward to. That the mere ability to walk the earth, live in this world, and relate to others is in itself, is a great gift to be appreciated.

This has been my greatest revelation this week. And although I could suggest that the combination of warmth, coffee and the Bible may have caused my sense to reach unusual levels of comfort, and therefore optimism, I don't think that's anything to accuse me of. As I see all the people unload from the busses, I marvel at the countless personalities, life stories, goals, dreams and hopes that walk past me while I sip my flat white. Dissolution is a hard feeling to comprehend when you're confronted with the faces of humanity.

Even on the days when I'd rather lie in bed and hide from the world. I get up. Get dignified. And hope that the end of the day will reward me with something I wasn't expecting. How I hope so. Everyday.

Christopher Hitchens: Find your Voice

2011-05-10T23:33:00.000-07:00

Christopher Hitchens is without doubt, one of my favourite writers of all time. He is a columnist, most notably (for me) a contributing editor for Vanity Fair. His writing is both intelligent, humourous and never pointless. He's doing what I wish to do: be acclaimed for my words and use them wisely.

Unfortunately he was diagnosed with cancer and it's progressing intensively. I'm honestly upset that we could lose such a magnificent genius of literature. In his latest article on vanityfair.com, he speaks on how important one's voice is. His voice now barely audible due to the cancer, he's realised the value of a vocal tool for writers.

It's a revolutionary article for me, because I often question my 'voice' as a writer; whether or not I'll make it, whether or not I'm even good enough. But his article is succinct in explaining that to have a voice as all, is a valuable start.

So, read the article, for sure:
http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2011/06/christopher-hitchens-unspoken-truths-201106

Although I don't think it's necessary, I'll note he is a committed atheist. I recall seeing many DVD's where he's featured in religious/science debates against Christian professors and pastors arguing for the case of atheism. Although I believe wholeheartedly in the grace, love and mercy of Jesus Christ, Hitchens' conviction in what he believes, and the sheer eloquency of his statements are something I admire. I may disagree, but I don't think one could overlook his intelligence. Jesus is still, most definitely, for the win.

I'd hesitate to say Hitchens is an idol (I find the statement juvenile), but I would say he's a hero of mine.

When in doubt, talk to a poet.

2011-05-09T00:54:00.000-07:00

e.e. Cummings is one of my favourite poets. Although he sometimes sways to the melancholic, I found a poem in which he exhorts on humanity. I can't help but share the glory of e.e:

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shops and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

TEDtalksdirector: Sarah Kay tells the story of stories

2011-05-05T14:43:00.000-07:00

I wholeheartedly ask that you watch this video. Sarah Kay has told the story of stories and opened my eyes to to the truth of poetry. I've never really taken much to the medium apart from the glory of Emily Dickonson and e.e. Cummings; but this woman has shown how spoken word poetry is an art. She is so inspired by the beauty of words, and performance, and the culmination of thoughts into action; inspiring!

Watch it, and enjoy it. It's more than worth it.

Not Feeling so Hot

2011-05-03T02:41:00.000-07:00

Before I begin, as I typed this blog title out, the suggestion of 'do penguins swim in water' was made, because apparently I've typed that question before? Why would I ask if penguins swum in water? Sometimes my past truly comes back to haunt me.

I've been hit by some awful bug; or perhaps this detox got way too bad way too quickly. I'd like to blame the dried fruit I got from the supermarket, you know in those neat little boxes that are 'snack size'. They seemed far too sweet for dried fruit, maybe too much sugar to the system? Either way, I've feeling horrendous.

With all the news of Albany's tornado, Osama Bin Laden being caught and general mishap around the world, I think a lot of people are questioning where they stand in the world and perhaps where the world stands with itself. I view things a little differently, I guess, there is a definite sense of security and hope in an overarching guardian over things. I know, crazy Christian, but it's true. God is all good, and only good, but that does not deny the fact that in the world there is bad, there is evil, and there is harm. I think in times like these we must not look to blame God but realise the glory of his contrast to what is causing us grievance.

Short bites of philosophy from a girl who can't even find out what rice milk is. I know. It's a troublesome state of affairs. Hold fast though, friends!

Oh to be Elizabeth Bennet.

2011-04-04T18:15:00.001-07:00

2 Timothy 2: 4 - 6

2011-04-03T13:46:00.000-07:00

"No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him. An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. It is the hard working farmer who ought to have first share of the crops."

In other words. Shut up and keep going.

Currently obsessed with:

2011-03-31T01:25:00.000-07:00

The colour red. I want to own red clothes. Red pens. Red folders. Red red red. Quite glad not too many stores have caught onto my obsession. Makes finding the red items all the more fun.

As I Transcend Into a Superhuman

2011-01-22T00:43:00.000-08:00

Greetings internet ether.

On a recent trip to South Africa I was bitten by spiders (or what we hope are spiders), these bites became infected and soon took over my life. Bringing with them purple and black liquid as well as a score of pain I became near paralysed with pain. A good dose of antibiotics and a plane ride back to my home I believed they were on the path to healing.

I was wrong. They have got worse. Quite a lot worse. This, may for some, seem a negative. My inability to stand for long periods of time, walk properly, sometimes sit or even lie on my back could be a hindrance to a normal life. And really.. they are. But I see the positive in this. I see the truth.

I am becoming spiderwoman.

It all makes sense. It will just be days before I'm swinging from a small, but practical Auckland skyline. My superhuman strength and ability will mean I will finally be able to open jars with no hot water help and move swift between crowds in shopping malls. I'm merely on the pathway to a successful life.

Yes sure I'll go through that inevitable phase of an identity crisis, those obnoxious super villains and constantly have a resolution at the end of the day that would be appropriate with pensive piano music, but I'm on it. My foray into superhuman life is going well. Stay tuned blogfolks (or Jesse, really), this blog is getting spidey.

Oh the Romantics.

2009-12-10T13:04:00.000-08:00

Gericault's Raft of the Medusa (1818-1819) is still one of my favourite paintings. Wish I could spend all the day in the Louvre looking at the work of artistic geniuses!

One day...

Gilmore Girls Re-Runs

2009-05-20T01:14:00.000-07:00

It's been over a year since I began this blog. All for the sake of an english assignment that worked out well. The english assignment, not so much the blog. Been neglecting it a bit, it's almost like it's the fish my family has which we're trying to kill off by just paying less attention to it. Don't get all SPCA on me.

Anyway, so I'm realising I'm currently in the middle of a river of decisions. Ebbing and flowing. (And that concludes the poetic metaphors in this days blog). Decisions which will no doubt determine my future. It's scary though, to think that one yes or no can choose how we live our life forever. Sometimes I really wonder why God gave that to us. Out of all the things he could give us, he chose freedom of choice. Why not a universal idea of good fashion, or the inability to gain weight... but no, he gives us free choice. Freedom in determining what we wear (which for some should require much more time that given), what we eat (which for most 'adds' to us in more ways than one), freedom in choosing where we go and what we do.

It's so easy to get lost in questions and choices. You know, like those people who just sit in themselves for days pondering the never ending, treating it like the next day won't go on without their ideas. But we can't do that, because with every choice God gives us, he gives us guidelines, structures and people around us to help make it right. Which is quite genius.

It seems at my young age (oh so young) people in my generation are being confronted with choices constantly. Which buttons to push, questions to ask, answers to decide on. Jobs have grown from two options to two thousand, opportunites come with every walk or wander and we must persistently know it all. It's like survival of the fittest mind and future. It's stressful, knowing that one thought can change everything for someone.

So it is with this in mind that I thank God everyday. First in a rather sarcastic, frustrated tone arguing why he made me different. And then, after I get over myself, I do it truly, thanking him for being in my life, making a Bible and making the people who surround me with their opinion. Because it is those people who have said things to me which have made the most difference. And they hadn't even known it. Moments when I know only God could put the words into their mouth. It's hard to imagine He doesn't exist when you see it happen.

Each day I move one step closer to my future (duh), what I'm going to be in my life. And I have such dreams, such goals, such outfits which I want to see come true, but I know that with every dream there will be many-a-letdown. But with every crushed desire, there is a renewed hope of things coming. I mean, when I was 10 I wanted to be an actuary. Now, I wouldn't go near statistics or accounting with a barge pole (not unless either of the two ended up in my favour...). A year ago I was set on having brown hair forever, now I'm a very happy blonde (regrowth included). Things change. But God's got it.

What I'm trying to say, or write, is that decisions are inevitable. Big, and small, good and bad. But God doesn't place them in our life for no reason. God has our back. God knows exactly what's going to happen too. And so I'm happy. My ebbing and flowing river of decisions has a strong current. It won't suck me under but it will make things go fast. God-speed.

Hopeless. Hopefull.

2008-09-14T16:41:00.000-07:00

In a casual txt conversation with a friend the other day, I was sent a reply in which I was told I was "hopeless" at something. It wasn't mean, just a word my friend thought to use to describe the hapless state of affairs we were in. They thought it would be funny to make a meaningless remark and say that I was "hopeless".

Which, on short reflection, I really truly am.
For it is my hopelessness that takes me to church every Sunday morning and Friday night. It is my hopelessness that causes me to reach for my Bible and read it. It is my hopelessness that makes me close my eyes and talk to the one real hope I have. Some call him Abba Father, others call him the messiah, I call him Jesus. Sometimes when I'm slightly frustrated he even gets a strong 'DUDE! Can you help me here!?'.

Unfortunately selfish decisions, narcissism and belligerence has caused this world, my generation, to brush off their hopelessness like it proves their worth and allow them to be their own salvation. Which, like all mere human deeds, and much like sin, only turns back in on themselves. I am not immune to this. Neither are any of my friends. We're human, obviously. But hope - i.e. JESUS isn't. He may have been once but only for us. For me. For you.

Our sinful lives are hopeless. Our saved, pure, God-made lives aren't. Romans 7:20 talks about doing sinful actions but that it is not us who do it, but rather the sinful nature within us. We will never be perfect, never be sustainable without a hope. Because there will always be a sinful nature within us. However it is the hope that saves us. And thanks to God's clever thinking and awesome power, hope always wins.

As Christians we are never perfect but strive to be. In Philippians 3:12-15 Paul talks about 'striving' and 'pressing on' towards the 'goal for which Christ Jesus' has 'called us' to. Being hopeless means constantly being tired. Satan preys on our hopeless natures, we pray on God's strength. However it is our hopelessness that endears us towards the Father. Without it we are nothing - pure nothing. For there will be nothing to work towards. I truly believe that testimony is one of the most important parts of a Christian faith. It teaches us lessons, and most of all allows our own stories to teach others.

Hopelessness is horrid but also heavenly. Well, part of our path to heaven. That's not to say we must indulge in pain. Spread it out for as long as we can. Bring others down with us for the glory of the testimony. Strength is God. Strength in God = strength in times of trial. We must be hopefull and hopefilled. Always.

This is all rather deep. Then again, so is life.
Thank goodness we have the big JC.