dark nights

calmer seas, colder nights.

rocking in the moonlight

you sing to keep me warm

i dance to make you smile.

i wonder where we are

have we been here for a while?

hold my hand and we'll follow a star

we'll search till we find it

we'll wander far

you keep singing

i'll keep searching

you find the answers

i'll find the Saviour.

I'm afraid it's been too long

To try to find the reasons why

I let my world close in around a smaller patch of faded sky

But now I've grown beyond the walls to where I've never been

And it's still winter in my wonderland

I'm waiting for the world to fall

I'm waiting for the scene to change

I'm waiting when the colors come

I'm waiting to let my world

come undone

A little more than make-believe when all my skies are painted blue

and all these clouds don't ever change the shape of who I am to you

When I catch the light of falling stars my view is changing me

my view is changing

~ Waiting for the World to Fall, Jars of Clay

+

a letter

It's rainy and gray today, and there's a lovely chill in the air. But I still miss you. It's when I walk around among a crowd of people that it's the strongest. Not loneliness, just that I remember all the jokes we made and the things we did and the fun we had. I don't mind being alone in a crowd, but I'd rather be with you.

Because we really are pretty awesome, aren't we?

+

a little thanksgiving note

I'm thankful

For my brother, my sister, my mother, my dad

For the way the sun looks beaming out from under heavy clouds, deep and gold and dim

For Netflix instant streaming

For my friends, who didn't disown me when I skipped town, but kept me as one of their own

For our trampoline: I waited over a decade for it, and it has been completely worth it

For freedom

For my God, who never turns His back on me, even when I insult Him, and second-guess Him, and flat out disbelieve Him. If I ever said the things to my friends that I say to Him, I would alienate them all. But God never takes back His grace.

Turkey is awesome, but Thanksgiving is a day of thanks, of prayer, and of peace.

Be blessed. :)

questions

If I were a monster, would you wince when you looked at me?

If I were a freak, would you stare?

If I were a leper, would you say unclean?

And if I was lost

Would you help me get free?

~ "Monster" by The Almost

Credit baresilver

excitement!

Isn't this amazing? It's by Rochelle Donald. Check out the rest of her beautiful work here.

Yes, tonight I am going to see Harry Potter. (How did you guess? :) I have high hopes that it will be wonderful and dark and brilliant and witty. Because Harry deserves nothing less!

In other news:

I won the poetry contest!

I'm awfully excited about that, too. This is shaping up to be a pretty good weekend. :)

there's autumn in your eyes

Will this be the last plane ride in your swing?

The harvest moon has come

And with her sadness brings

My mom says it's too cold to play

So I'm just waiting here

Thinking on our sunny days

But now there's autumn in your eyes

I just wanted a chance to say goodbye

A final burst of summertime

I just wanted a chance to say goodbye

There's nothing quite as hard

Or easier than time

My world is coming down

And no one seems to mind

Where I once played there's no sound

And all your pretty leaves have fallen to the ground

And now there's autumn in your eyes

I just wanted a chance to say goodbye

A sad farewell to summertime

I just wanted a chance

to say goodbye

From the north the icy breath is all around me

Blowing and snowing

Changing you

~ "A Chance to Say Goodbye", Children 18:3

no words

{No credit, unfortunately}

{credit here}

{again, no credit}

{this is my favorite. I want to be the girl with the pretty blue umbrella.}

{Credit Here}

{Credit Here}

the problem with poetry

Camping was lovely. I wished on a shooting star at 2:30 in the morning as I laid awake. :) And I saw this terrific piece of graffiti on a huge boulder:

It must have taken someone a long time to carve this into solid rock. That's a lot of luv.

On a completely different note, I'm thinking of submitting some poetry to a contest the library's holding. It isn't really blog-worthy material, except that it's made me think about the problem with liking poetry. My conclusion is this: The problem with liking poetry is that no one else likes it except other poets. Being a poet isn't like being a musician, because no one dislikes all music. But if you tell people you write poetry, they say, "Oh, I hate poetry," not realizing that they've just shaken the foundations of your dreams. Or else they're nice enough, but they don't get it. So you feel kind of dumb because you like the way that what the poet didn't say means just as much as what he did, or the way the words skitter across the page and paint pictures in your mind, and when you say the opening words out loud you really understand how the poem is supposed to feel - and when no one else understands, it feels as though maybe there's something a little dumb about it, after all.

Not that this has ever happened to me. ;)

But anyway, that's my rambling on poetry. And I'm going to submit something! This is a big deal, because I never show anyone what I write. So be excited for me. :)

later days

"Granted, fate and tragedy, aimless and just-missing-by-a-hair are part of human experience, but they are not all, and I'm not sure they are a major part, even in the lives of men who know no Designer or design. For me, I have seen a Keener Force yet, the force of Ultimate Good working through seeming ill. Not that there is rosiness, ever; there is genuine ill, struggle, dark-handed, unreasoning fate, mistakes, 'if-onlys' and all the Hardyisms you can muster. But in them I am beginning to discover a Plan greater than any could imagine. "

-Jim Elliot, 1951

Oh, October!

How I love you! You are beautiful! October is most certainly making up for the letdown of September. The leaves haven't turned yet, but the sky is the perfect smooth blue oval that it only can be in the Fall. The air is crisp, like the apples we picked Saturday.  sixty. five. degrees. Perfection. :)
 I went for a walk today in the woods near our house today, and saw four deer bound away into the trees. Something about Autumn seems to make nature feel so much closer. The sky is a little lower; the trees make themselves conspicuous. I'm going camping tomorrow, because there couldn't be a more ideal time. 

She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe

"I thought you'd never say hello," she said

"You look like the silent type."

Then she opened up a book of poems

And handed it to me

Written by an Italian poet

From the thirteenth century

And every one of them words rang true

And glowed like a burning coal

Pouring off of every page

Like it was written in my soul from me to you

Tangled up in Blue

So now I'm going back again

I got to get her somehow

All the people we used to know

They're an illusion to me now

Some are mathematicians

Some are carpenter's wives

Don't know how it all got started

I don't know what they're doing with their lives

But me I'm still on the road

Heading for another joint

We always did feel the same

We just saw it from a different point of view

Tangled up in Blue

~Bob Dylan,  Tangled up in Blue

Hopefully I'll have some adventures to relate when I get back from the Great Family Wilderness Excursion :) Until then, happy, happy, happy autumn! 

Love is not a victory march

I've been reading Edna St. Vincent Millay lately. Despite her scandalous private life, her poetry is brilliant.

The Concert

No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it's over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
Why may you not come with me? --
You are too much my lover.
You would put yourself
Between me and song.

If I go alone,
Quiet and suavely clothed,
My body will die in its chair,
And over my head a flame,
A mind that is twice my own,
Will mark with icy mirth
The wide advance and retreat
Of armies without a country,
Storming a nameless gate,
Hurling terrible javelins down
From the shouting walls of a singing town
Where no women wait!
Armies clean of love and hate,
Marching lines of pitiless sound
Climbing hills to the sun and hurling
Golden spears to the ground!
Up the lines a silver runner
Bearing a banner whereon is scored
The mild and steel of a bloodless wound
Healed at length by the sword!

You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.

Come now, be content.
I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went.


First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light!

There are more, of course. But these two are the most memorable, for me. This one's excellent too. :)

The first day of Fall was last week. It was 96 degrees. It's about time for this extended summer to die, I think. I'm ready to break out the jean jacket, but the weather isn't cooperating. Oh, well. Autumn can't be long now. Right?

I'm really feeling this song right now. And this version is gorgeous and perfect.

Stay tuned for a hilarious series of observations about my new town; also featuring some deep philosophical ideas, reflections on various adventures, and some geeky artsy stuff as well. :)

Fall and Fog

Somehow, while I was getting lost in the back roads of my brand-new town and meeting neighbors and talking to strangers, September slipped in and was halfway gone before I realized it was here. I love September. It's the last hurrah of summer, but it's promising Fall.

Courtesy here. This is how I picture September, in my head. Gray, and a little melancholy. This is Big Sur, California, one of my favorite places. Fall there isn't colorful, but it's gloomy and chilly and mysterious.

Nothing much more to say now, except that football season has started! Go Broncos! :)

FOG

THE fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

-Carl Sandburg

poetry-music

I absolutely love this.

(courtesy of the amazing Natalie Lloyd, and also of Una Bella Vita)

Lately I've been writing poetry. There's not a lot else to do when your life is packed up in suitcases and cardboard boxes. But this song is perfect for poetry. (I'm trying to figure out how to play it on my violin, which is a lot of fun. Now I just need to find a pianist...) Jon Schmidt is so incredibly talented! I love the arrangement of piano and cello, and the two songs sound wonderful together. Oh sorry, am I gushing? :)

Our moving date is in two days. It feels like a door is slamming shut behind me as I leave, but I suppose this closure is better than the ragged loose ends moving sometimes leaves behind. Having moved so many times in my life, I'm good at cutting those ties and starting fresh. I think the difficult part this time will be trying NOT to sever the roots I've put down. But it will be okay.

~Jeremiah 29:11!

goodbyes on a one way street

I'm currently in love with the song Four Chords by The Classic Crime. (I also like their song The Happy Nihilist. Very fun to sing along with :)

I was much too young to think of danger

I was curious and innocent and brave

Even if I die tomorrow I'll be glad my life was filled with songs

Even if I die tomorrow these four chords will keep me living on

I've been saying goodbye to people this week. It's a strange, difficult thing, saying goodbye to the people and places you love. All these memories come back that you hadn't realized you'd forgotten, and you realize you'll miss most the things you took for granted. Gah, this is hard. I wonder if people realize how much I'm going to miss them. :)

But I'm trying to be adventurous about the door God's shoving me through. Life is a one-way street, and looking back doesn't get you very far when you can only move forward.

I'll be away from the internet for a couple of weeks. This doesn't seem like a very good time to take a blogging break, after only three posts, but it can't be helped. So I'll be living life, having adventures, which I'll record later. :) [Tangent: isn't "blog" an awful word? Say it out loud. b l o g. Isn't it ugly? I may need to find a substitute word. I'll work on it.]

Later days :)

summer days and old art

Oh! that beautiful midsummer sun here. It beats down on one's head, and I haven't the slightest doubt it makes one crazy. But as I was so to begin with, I only enjoy it.

~ Vincent van Gogh, Letter to Emile Bernard in 1888

That's my favorite summer quote. :) Van Gogh's pretty interesting, the way he mixed the dark Dutchness and the more impressionistic Frenchness into his own special blend of weirdness. He painted some really nice stuff, like this:

And this (which is my favorite):

(Then, of course, there's this, which brings his overall sanity into question.)

His art isn't really pretty, the way Renoir's is, but it has an edge to it. Honestly, I like him mostly because of that quote :)

This is a great part of the summer, because the temperature is finally dropping (after all this evilly hot weather) and there are still just enough days left before school starts to fully enjoy them. Oh yes, I have big plans. :)

Carpe diem!

I'm really bad at small talk.

So I'm going to introduce myself by telling you some stuff about me you never, ever needed to know. Then we'll have to be friends, right? :)

Red is my favorite color. For years I didn't have a favorite color, but one day I just got tired of being so indecisive and chose one. Ever since then, it's given me a thrill to be able to state something so decisively.

I like rainy days better than sunshine. I wouldn't want it to rain perpetually, but if it rained two-thirds of the time I would be happy.

Things I love: Poetry. Art projects. Photography. Rock music.

Things I [strongly] dislike: Chemistry. Being duped into reading awful books. Humidity.

I can't Hula-Hoop, cartwheel, sew, or whistle. I can, however, knit. I can also cook crepes.

That's plenty for now. Until next time. :)