Fallen Sword...knights abandoned

For days now I've been pondering this post. You see it started with the sword above. It was left by some of the boys that are in the apartment complex that I live in. They often play all over the different units, in the middle grassy area and the two stair wells across the grass area.

I've seen the boys play on the two stair wells as if the two stairs were ships and they were pirates at war, with the grass a sea, tumultuous and deadly. They've played cops and robbers...though they probably didn't call it that, but I remember similar games played by my brothers and his friends. The stairs become the mountains the robbers run to hide in....and then there are games they play, scenes enacted where I watch and wonder, not sure what the premise is, but watching their childhood play out.

I love kids, and their minds and how they interact with each other and the world. I grew up in a house and not an apartment, and so I am a bit fascinated by the games they play here...games that spawned the length and breadth of an entire neighborhood for my brothers....though they sometimes played just around one house...but for big wars the whole neighborhood was fair game to race, run, and hide in; but for these boys it is an apartment complex.

I don't have tons of time to watch them, most times it's for no more than two minutes. I have no idea how old they are...this group of boys. However this past two weeks there was intense game that was played, and sustained....the same plot ran for days...and from what I could tell they were knights. They brought out their swords, instead of their guns, and fought and yelled and pursued each other through, I'm sure, daring quests, and dangerous battles where the fate of the world fell to them, to their sword fight....they fought up and down the stairs, and across the grass and up and down the other stairs, and back....pausing for dinner and curfew...to resume again the next afternoon.

So on Wednesday afternoon as I took a break from my work to walk around outside I didn't think too much about the sword that was fallen and seemingly forgotten at the top of the third flight of stairs in "main stair well two". I assumed that the battle would pick up later this afternoon and the kids would find this sword, a prize possession of a mighty knight...and an active imagination of a boy...so much more than the plastic and simple form.

Wednesday passed quietly, and Thursday slipped away, and Friday fell by the way side...and Saturday slid by as well. The sword still lays forgotten, the boys have must have been caught...perhaps held prisoner...or could it be...the sword no longer matters and they've found other battle fields?

And I honestly do not know why the sword laying at the top of the stairs has so caught and held me. I tried resisting writing about it, because, after all what could I say about knighthood, or the games boys play or why a sword that saved a kingdom would have been left abandoned, forgotten...is it missed? But I found myself seeing parallels between these young kids and myself...things that I too felt enthralled and consumed by only to have fall from my attention, slip and drop to the wayside...swords abandoned on some proverbial staircase somewhere. I'd like to say that all that I've let slip are things as simple as a pretend game of knighthood....but that is not true.

Some swords I remember loosing, and frantically searching for, how could I have lost something that precious, that vital........

Other times it has been a habit I want to add to my repertoire, the composite base of who I am. And I'm passionate and determined, disciplined and I sustain it, and falsely think I've got this down...only to somehow lapse....and it can be days or weeks before I to have a slowly dawning realization that the habit I was doing so well at last month seems to have....well....when did I do it last? And there is generally the awful recrimination and sorrow, the remorse....and I start all over again to work, to change, to transform.

The other thought that has been pressing in on me as I've walked past this fallen sword is Hebrews 4:12, Romans 12:1-2, Ephesians 6:10-18. And I've thought about what it means to be a Christian so captivated by Christ that you pursue Him, across the battlefields of life, up the mountains of opposition, across the seas of doubt and temptations...all for love of Him, all for the love that is within us that is a fire...a calling, a compelled response stemming from the transforming freedom we were granted when we confessed our need for a Savior, believed that Jesus is the way, the truth, the life and the only one...and accepted His grace...the rebirth of ourselves.

NASB (all)

Hebrews 4: 1-2 "For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart."

Romans 12:1-2 "Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect."

Ephesians: 10-18 "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. Put on the armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints,"

I found myself asking, do I really pick up this sword daily, do I really carry it with me even if the battlefield appears to be a simple set of stairs, a grassy area, an office, a store...or do I only enter the chapel all dressed and ready...one day a week, two....Do I take seriously this battle that is happening daily, and this battle that isn't a meaningless enactment, a play, but rather is for everything...it is the weight of eternity that is at stake, and the cost is in souls...or have I grown up, am I too mature to profess myself a warrior...a knight...too grown up for games...

Did you know there are 17 verses that speak of swords in the Bible? There are countless images of kingdoms, protectors, guards, shields....the Old Testament is full of warriors, and battles...and the battles of the New Testament are no less real because they took place for the souls of men not just their lives...and this is no less true for us modern day people than it was for the peoples of old.

On Friday night I wasn't really thinking about the blog, or the sword...I'd more or less given up on trying to write a blog about a mock battle and a forgotten toy...I had already tried several times and had not been able to do very much at all, a string of sentences, but a far cry from what I felt was there...so I was surprised when I was reading a friend's web page and they made mention of another page, and I clicked the link and saw a picture and immediately thought of Scott Mutter...not many people know him, but he is a surreal photographer. There are now several samples of his stuff on my blog page because upon seeing this one picture I just HAD to go to see Scott's web page again, to revisit his works.

There I was soaking up the joy I find when I look at his works, when what should happen between one click and the next, well an image popped up, a work of his....that I really don't remember seeing, or had completely forgotten about. It was that of a knight. And I knew I must undertake this blog again. Because the battle is real. This battle, not with the flesh but with the world forces of this darkness...and all the bits and pieces that are now on this blog started to coalesce and yes, we all should pick up our shield of faith, our sword and pray...enter into the battle, fully confident in the Sovereignty of the Lord Jesus.

So what started out with a group of boys, unbeknownst to me, playing an imaginary game, and leaving their sword behind has become now a battle cry of sorts...a sounding, a returning...a discovery and a rediscovery and what a noble, and worthy cause it is...so I can only hope that I am not the only one to respond, to heed the call, to stand firm....to fight.....that this posting has been in any small way a calling out to my brethen and fellow saints, brothers and sisters in Christ....come, let's play...let's fight...let's stand.

God Bless,

~K

Malady....diagnosis: Poetry

Today I realized this discontent I've been feeling lately revolves around the fact that it is fall and I simply haven't been feeding my life with the sustenance it needs...other than God's word that is, I need poetry in my life. Poetry at any other time of the year is readily received by me, but for some reason, in the fall it is a vital necessity.

I was speaking with one of my best and dearest friends and she says this malady, this seasonal dire need for poetry could be a result of the long years we've known each other and she, after all is a Poetess...and a brilliant one...and fall is her time too. SO my dear Poetess...write with abandon! (Then call me quick and nourish this need within me for poetry...even in draft form yours are amazing...) :)

But, last week I was lazily reading Neruda, but tonight, as the realization struck, the cure as it were---I looked lovingly at my bookshelf and found old friends just smiling back at me, content to wait upon my every whim, there sat waiting: Billy Collins, Emily Dickinson, Christina Rossetti, Wistawa Szymborska, Milton, Yeats, Robert Service, and Rilke. Oh, RILKE! Rilke is today's dose.

And I read two poems greedily. And then lo, and behold what should his next one be entitled? The Swan. Yesterday's posting compels me to copy this poem here to my blog...and I don't even know anything else about it other that it is Rilke, and it's called The Swan. SO, we shall discover it together.


The Swan
Rainer Maria Rilke
Translator: Stephen Cohn


Like one who lives in drudgery, constrained
to plod through weary uncompleted toil,
the ungainly swan must labour overland.

And as when dying we anxiously depart
from all that once sustained us in this World,
he anxiously must quit dry land and cast

himself upon the waters, which receive him
as if contented and fulfilled to bear him;
prevailing over sequences of ripples
infinitely silent and secure
and all the time more regal, more assured,
casual in mastery he glides and sails.


......
Ok, so one poem isn't enough and the first one I read tonight was simply beautiful so I have to share that too.
ISBN of this book: 0810116499 should you either need to know the source I'm crediting, the volume so you may run out and get your own...or should you speak German, and love poetry...well, if you do, first...why have you not informed me you could read Rilke without translation?!....second, well, nevermind...it's a good book, and you who read German will enjoy it doubly so.
....


The Angel
Rainer Maria Rilke

Translator: Stephen Cohn


He shakes his head as if he would dismiss
whatever might confine him or constrain --
for each gigantic heartbeat brings more close
the huge event -- forever orbiting.

All heaven shouts and swarms with presences
ready to summon him: Come! See and witness!
But do not burden with your heaviness
his weightless hands, for they would break your doors

and, raging in the night from room to room,
would seize you and search deep into your heart,
wrench you about as if to give you form --
at last would break your mould, would lift you out.


~K

Pinions

www.samanthamcnally.com/gallery/swan.html
Praise God for the perfect picture...for this blog :)

A couple of days ago I was reading my Bible and my heart has been very prompted to pray and be mindful of the pastor's family I mentioned in the last blog...and I came across this verse. And I was inspired to write a letter to the family.

Well, for those that know me they are aware that generally when I write a prompted letter, I have very little recall of the actual details of the letter itself. So the fact that this one has stayed with me, has been in fact something I've been prompted to share since...well...is indeed different, and perhaps not something that I should be done sharing yet. Given the digital age we now live in, the retrieval of the letter is much simpler. I've chopped out the specifics that pertained to the family and have retained the verse that has opened my eyes, helped me see, and truly fall in deeper love with my Savior and to feel His love anew.

May these verses, this reflection be to you a blessing.

Psalm 91: 1-4

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, "My refuge and my fortress, My God, in whom I trust!" For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you may seek refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark."

I have a confession to make, I love words. I love how many details can be conveyed with the right ones.

Today's verses that just leapt off the page, tackling me for my late arrival, my laxness...well, they are rich with details. So here they are in chronological order...the picture they paint take my breath away I hope they are uplifting to you.

Dwells, to be in a given place or state....not just a physical place or a circumstance, but a state, that is constant, like breathing, like God's grace...we were meant to live in this constant state...it fills us, grounds us....but dwell to me has always been a plural word, I don't dwell with myself...to me it always reminds me that there is something and Someone far more than just myself being depicted, being captured...an unspoken promise, potential, Presence....Jesus.

Shelter..."something beneath, behind, within a person...that which protects from storms, missiles and adverse conditions"...a refuge, not just anywhere that leaves you exposed and vulnerable, but specifically that which is designed for protections, rest, a residence...a home, it provides for us when we are faced with more than we could handle alone, a very real place to turn to...to hang out in til the storm is over....and to me, the image that comes to mind is not a lean-to, not a shack that shakes and threatens to break...no, this is a sturdy place, a solid place...and especially as it is presented here, from the Lord...

Most High...nothing higher, nothing bigger, the absolute top, the One above all....

Abide...to remain, to continue, to stay, to endure, sustain, to act in accord with....many images, the prominent one here again suggests there is a way to live...a Presence that stays with us, not just any ole presence but the Lord....it is He who stays with us, a fixed mark (like the stars in the heavens, the love you hold for your family, the love that God holds for us), it remains with us, takes up residence within us, around us...goes before us, walks along with us, sits with us...is in accordance with us, it endures...it lasts forever...and I'm strongly reminded of how often I've heard one pastor or another say, 'what God says multiple times, He not only means, but He wants your attention, He isn't just repeating Himself for the fun of it...it means it is important to Him...and to us...so pay attention.'....

Shadow....some would say a distortion of the light being cast, shade...yet, that didn't seem to fit, so I looked it up....and lo and behold what images should dance off the page "shelter, protection; sanctuary in the shadow of the church"...."a reflected image"..."an inseparable companion"....."archaiac(ally) : to shelter or protect"...."to overspread with shadow: shade".....again a reiteration of the protection, covering we have, especially as it is modifying the noun "of the Almighty....with whom there is no darkness, no turning, just light, abundant and widespread, but when we stand within His shadow, His refuge, we are sheltered, and to those who would oppose us we then appear to be in His shadow...it is only as something comes against the light that a shadow may be formed, for the light shines around the object and the shadow then falls...proof of the presence of light....

Verse 2 opens up with "I will say to the Lord, "My refuge and my fortress..."....yes, I believe it was there not to chastise us for forgetting how real the battle is, how shaky the arms can get when assaulted, rather, I think the Lord reminds us that this is our cry, and not because we are able to battle alone or to heal ourselves...rather because we are unable, weak, lost...He came to save, to seek, to provide for, to shelter, and protect...to save... Mark 2:17 "and hearing this, Jesus said to them, "It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick; I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners." He knows we need Him, He provides and reminds us we are free to cry out to Him, free to call upon Him.

What a good reminder...He is my refuge, my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." He is a strong, high fortress, and I love the image that is painted in my head of a castle a top a mountain...not one that has never known the assualt of the enemy, but one that has withstood it. In my head the wood may have dents in it from the projectiles lodged at it, the rocks are uneven, weathered...but still strong and standing...this is not a fortress that has never been tried, no, this is one that still stands, no matter what comes against it. And He offeres it to us, individually, as we need it, whenever we need it, as long as we need it...He is the One we trust...come high water or battering ram, He is the only One we could trust unyieldingly, unswervingly...anything else would crumble or break, shatter or give way...

Verse 3...draws us deeper still: It is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper....

Snare...anything that serves to entrap or entangle unawares....hidden...someone once told me 'that 99% of what we worry about never happens'...you see I struggled with worry, still struggle with it....and on the days I was assaulted by the enemy I used to sarcastically think then I just wasn't good enough at worrying because that one percent margin sure leaves a mark, a bruise and hits like a semi, a freight train.....now I don't really take the counsel I was given as right, or coming even from the righteous...but here's what struck me and stuck with me, and only recently too I might add...so I'll have to keep holding it up. (it was 2 saturday nights back) and I'm paraphrasing, so forgive me, but the jist was 'worry is what happens when we take responsibility for something God never intended to be within our control'. It struck and stuck for me, and I've been thinking about it ever since...for me, I know what a challenge this will be...and the enemy is definitely laying the snares...the traps, the very things that will cause to be entrapped, or entangled...and yes, I am caught unawares, like 99% of the time, even when I think I've prepared myself. But as I read this I realized though the snare was set, hidden so as to entrap and entaggle...set by the trapper....no less...the one experienced it taking things down....this verse reminds us who is the victor and it isn't the trapper....it is He who will deliver, our God, our fortress, our refuge, our shelter, our warrior.

Not only does God deliver us from the snare, the trapper...but also "from the deadly pestilence."

Pestilence...what an icky word...it is more than just a cold, or something slimy...it is an army of colds, it is a disease, a virulent (actively poisonous or deadly, violent, hostile) sickness...icky...like plague type icky...pestilence...it wiggles and squirms and is actively attacking us, it is hostile, and doesn't like us, and doesn't want us to live...it is deadly....blech...but, more than icky it's scary....it is meant to terrify, it is huge, and full of dark portent...and yeah I don't like this word, if this were a bug, it would be the kind I'd go look for a guy to squash (and remove the remains)...good thing God already volunteered for the job. God acknowledges that it is deadly, and not good, and that I/we are very valid in our feelings, our assessment...but that He is greater, He is the Deliverer, the Healer...

Verse 4...these next words to me are amazing, tender, a comfort....

Pinions...being the bird lover I am, I am immediately smiling....this means not only is it God who is covering me, but it is with His wings....and not just any wings, but the ones meant for flying...Pinions are the part of the bird's wing that contain the primary feathers, the ones that help the bird fly with purpose and direction, shift, or navigate, the ones that direct the flight so it is flight not just soaring or a prolonged jump or fall....and what's more, if it is His pinons covering us...well, picture the wings of a swan, opening to gather her babies into and under them....her pinions would extend out, cover the babies, and then drawn them in, and under...towards the very softest part of the bird...to the very core of it...the place of greatest safety and warmth....and it is breath-taking to realize God covers us, shields us, but He doesn't just provide any old shelter, even a castle...no, He covers us with His wings, His pinions, drawing us in, and under...to the softest, most tender and warm part....He wants us so close we can hear His heart beat...to feel His steady breath....

"...under His wings you may seek refuge...."

Refuge....reiterated again...but with the tender image of His wings still overwhelming my mind, the first image that unfolds now is the baby bird, burrowing into the parent....we may seek refuge.....it is as if God, Himself, were tenderly saying, 'there there, My child, come, it's ok to be scarred, it's ok to be shaking, come seek refuge...come to the very core of Me, hear My heart beat, feel the shelter of My wings...I will watch over you, protect you, calm you, sooth you, let you rest, there, there, it is alright.'...refuge to me isn't just a place to go, it is a place to go so I can rest...it is so secure I can be less alert, less afraid, less nervous, or worried...it soothes, it calms, it secures me...it gives me peace, comfort and rest....just as the image of the baby swan taking refuge under the pinions of the parent finds refuge, reassurance, comfort and protection....

but v4 isn't over yet....

"His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark..."....somtimes during a trial, especially for those of us who believe we can be very caught up in making sure our faith holds out, holds up...and I love that He reminds me, and perhaps you too, here that it is His faith...He pours out His faith into the shield, into our lives, it is by faith alone so no one may boast that we are saved....faith isn't a work we can do, or make on our own, He is the one who gives it, and here too, most importantly, if our faith is in Him, and we seek our refuge in Him, it is His faith that will shield us, and be for us a bulwark....

Bulwark....a wall built for the purposes of defense, it is solid, it fortifies, protects, shields, secures...it is a mainstay...an extention of a that which protects that is thick and heavy, dense, and very strong...when the battering rams come, they won't hit here....they'll look for a weaker place, no battering ram will break through this place....to me it is a heavy word...bull...wark...bulwark...it sounds dense...'buhl..werk'...and that's what God's faith can be for us, the safe place that is built for defense, fortifying us, shielding us, our mainstay, our strength when we are weak, our structure...that from which we can draw support from, strength from, faith from,....our faith from His faith...His shield for ours...His strength, mighty and strong, and ours if we would seek it.

The rest of this Psalm is a beautiful promise of His protection, shelter, provision, and very accurately paint the battle field, but it also overwhelmingly reminds you, that God is with you, for you, and your strength, deliverer and answer to the storms of this life. I highly recommend reading the whole thing. And if your Bible isn't close by, or you don't have one, since you are online reading this I recommend: http://www.biblegateway.com/ it is a quick online resource, and it allows you to pick from a wide variety of translations. Psalm 91-- :)

But tonight I could not let those words go un-attended...my prayer is that you, your family, your friends and all you care about feel the incredible, tender, protecting love of the Father, the Lord, the Mighty One, the Most High...and that His refuge affords for you a place of peace and rest, a place to burrow into, and camp out in....it is my prayer that His faith protects you throughout the trials this life will bring before you, drag you through, that Jesus' faith covers you and shields you, and is your bulwark, for He is mighty and He will deliver you. He will never rest, grow weary or tired, He is ever vigilant, and He is well tried and worthy of the trust you would impart to Him to shield, protect, provide and defend you during this time, but also the One who will comfort you and give you rest. Let Him be your bulwark, your fortress, your strong tower, your very present defense who loves you with an ever lasting love.

God Bless,

~K

Unfinishe....

First, thanks to the Poetess who helped me redesign my blog page, and who urged me and encouraged me to once again pick up the keyboard and type, blog...not for the sake of the masses perse, but rather for the sake of the writer that is within me.

This week has been climaxing on this theme, works and words I've needed to write...to pick back up and begin again to do that which feeds my soul. Write. I am in the process of writing a book...though, shamefully I must say it's been nearly a year since I was really and truly writing with the fervency I know is there if I would only give it the time to exist, to be....and yes, I want to justify my absence, the time in between, but...bottom line it wouldn't change things for me.

This week, I did it though, I picked my keyboard back up and opened the document, the book to be, and started at page one, because writing just isn't the formation of words and sentences, paragraphs and plots, it is also the revision, the edits, the evaluation of what's on the page and where the end must be to see if there is a compelling and a connection from where you are to where you want to be at the end, and how the reader will travel with you. So my writings this week are minor in words, but major in that again the book is in process and the relief I feel takes me by surprise, though it shouldn't. It is as if I've been holding my breath for a year, without need or reason...and so here I am breathing again and feeling a bit silly for not breathing for this past year.

Today, not only did my blog undergo revision but as I was cleaning out a drawer of papers I've been meaning to transcribe I came across a letter I was writing to myself to reflect on the changes that happened to me in the year 2005. (I started this reflection of the year 2005, just after the start of 2006, so the memories of the time lines and the hardships, the awe was still fresh at both the abundance I'd experienced and also the sharp edged trials.) The letter was on nice paper, a good pen scrolled the words, thoughts and captured what I'd lived through....or well, at least they did for the first 4.5 pages. I fondly picked it up and I remembered exactly what I had wanted to do that fateful day in 2006, I remember exactly how it felt to be me at that moment, knowing how pivotal 2005 had been and how important it was that I put it all down....and today I read those pages, both as the woman I was in 2006 and the woman I am 3 years after that year....and at the end of the last word, which left me half way through a sentence I felt real grief that whatever had interrupted me had caused me to leave the whole letter unfinished. I still mourn a bit, not writing it as the woman I was in 2006, a survivor of the year 2005, raw and real...vivid....

2005 was a big enough shift for me that 3 years later I still remember it...it changed me that much. But I write today as a woman who has grown since, I am a product of those changes, and all the ones in between. And, though, I've never been good at journals or journal type things, I suddenly today realized that this has to change, I have to change this...I need to do what it takes to have the discipline to do so. I may not write about what I ate for lunch, or what the weather was, or what the news said...or the even the timeline of my days...I need not write about the minor hiccups, minor routines....but I do need to write.

Life is a journey, each day, each year only comes across us, through us once. And we are never the same. This a gift. I'd venture to say there are things, moments, memories and circumstances we all wish we could go back and react differently to, act differently in....but the value of the sum, the whole is still beyond price, greater than the sum total of the parts, each part bigger than we realize as we live within each one...

One hang up I've had is, well, I've not felt I mattered enough to undertake such an effort like recording my life. I've felt inconsequential, back ground, minor, boring even...but that is not true or right. I do matter. I am special. We all are. I easily see the wonderful, amazing, greatness in every other living soul...how priceless, how valuable...and why I don't give myself the same standing is a long and complicated intertwining of many things, but the great and glorious news is I don't have to see myself the same as I once accepted as only right, and only just for who I am. I don't see myself accurately. This I acknowledge, and confess. But I'm trying to see myself more truthfully, see myself as God sees me....a beloved daughter, a priceless soul....or at the very least at least bring myself up to the same standard and level to which I see everyone else.

The journey is important to mark, and remark upon. One of my pastor's has had a crisis hit his family and he and his wife have begun an online journal to both capture and communicate what is going on, what is happening and I treasure it. It is a gift and an honor to read and pray for them, to be given the details of this part of their journey as it happens. I am amazed...they are so wonderful, great, amazing, so....I lack the words, but I'm blessed and I treasure the time they take while they traverse the part of their journey to stop, to write, to bridge the journey with thoughts and the events I am not witness to in person...to include all who would dare to enter, to read, to walk with them and beside them...through words, through prayer, through...

So here I am, rambling, trying to find my way from the beginning of the entry to the end, trying to grasp the point that taunts me from a vague place in my subconscious, as if it is at the bottom of a river bed, trying to rise to the surface...but the silt still holds it, coats it, and it isn't light enough to float yet, to journey lightly on the top of this ever moving river of life.

I am thankful to be writing again, both here, on paper and in my book...I fit into me again, and there is a sigh, a pressure released...and the possibilities are endless but reachable...the hope ignites again, burning stronger and solidly...not that it was ever extinguished, but suddenly I find myself turned towards it rather that trying to live with it at my back, in the distant reaches of the light and warmth it gives as if the edges were really where I wanted to live, as if I actively picked the shadowlands...when really it was by not choosing, not acting, not fighting, not staying by the light, not feeling as if I deserved to stay by the light and the hope and the fire that resulted in and allowed the distance to span, to grow, to inhibit me...to slide away through inaction, indecision...it wasn't a leap, it was a sudden voila, and I realize my return will not be such a momentary flash of light either...

But for now I write, I see the fire of hope, the warmth and feel the corresponding spark within me, feel the draw and the pull...and I throw aside the weight declaring, incorrectly, that I first be perfect, or brilliant, or ....no, I simply just need to be, and to write...and that is beautiful. Beautiful for the priceless imperfections of today that shape who I am and will be, and mark where I have been and who I once was, and the transitory state that exists only in this moment, too fleeting, too volatile, but present for a breath, for right now...a present, a gift, a precipice.

Words on a page---
Pages in the wind---
the book of my life (to quote Sting)...

Today, though a blog.

~K