Nose rings and dreadlocks

She stooped down on her hams, balancing expertly on her toes. She was speaking to a young man with chocolate hair, who wore a mint green shirt and tattered jeans. I attempted to walk casually up towards the body wash and soap section of the health food store and catch bits of their conversation. She was calmly, yet enthusiastically speaking of her favorite all-purpose oil cleanser. Her voice rose and fell with intention, energy and force. She loved this stuff--all of it. She spoke of its many all-natural purposes and the attractive features of its fair trade quality. She was the epitome of the nineteen-sixties hippie embodied in real flesh. Her many dreadlocks were swept up into a neat bundled heap atop her head by means of a decorative scarf--blue and white I think it was. She wore white linen pants that swayed and gave with her graceful movements. A small, golden nose ring shone in her right nostril. She also wore a large jade pendant around her weather-worn neck--complete with an old hemp band. Her multiple earring holes bore dangling bits and pieces--a small golden cross hung from her left earlobe. Her bare, beautiful face wore little if any makeup, perhaps a dash of eyeliner. Her slightly yellowed teeth peeped through the lips that seemed to be continually playing at a smile. She smelled of lavender, oatmeal and body order. Her unpainted nails and general appearance testified to her natural philosophy about life...her name was Melanie

Lies...

Ugly bits of distorted truth,
Shrouded in a guise of mock reality
They speak to the innermost--the scared...
Resonate they do within the mind--poison
Echoing, echoing, echoing their bitter refrains...

The Body

The Body of Christ is a beautifully ugly thing. We are redeemed and live in the Freedom of Christ and his shed blood, yet we continually turn our back upon His sacrifice with our lives, our complacency. The hypocrisy of the Body shouts louder than our love. The world sees liars, bigots. I am the worst offender. I read my Bible and become enthused with zeal for the cause of Christ and read books like Irresistible Revolution that speak about radical love, which fire my passion, yet I do not take action. Lord Christ forgive my complacency! I condemn with my heart those who live in comfort and luxury, but where is my sacrifice? Where lies my transforming passion for the poor, the outcast, the least of these? Even in the midst of these questions, Lord, I feel your forgiveness and am utterly humbled by your incomprehensible love--it is this love Lord which wil transform the world--how then shall we live? How then shall I live? Thank you Lord, for the Body--the beautifully ugly Body that is your Bride. We are depraved and broken, lost and in such need of You. May we, may I Lord show this brokenness to a broken world and scream your life with my life of hypocrisy and inconsistency, that by it some might know You...may we challenge each other--as iron sharpens iron--let the Body challenge and be challenged. We are your Bride, Lord, but I believe we are sleeping--wake us up! Wake me up, Lord Christ...

Ireland...

I do believe it is growing--Ireland--it is impressing itself deeper into my heart and soul as time progresses. I hear the sounds of ocean on the beach--I can see the sun rising over the Mournes. The pub across the road is blaring its karaoke music--it's Friday night. The tea draws in the kettle and conversations remain to be had. Michael Longley is sitting in our living room casually dropping bits of poetry in his normal, everyday speech--wonderment. The green countryside evokes life with its vibrancy. The accents of the land tickle the imagination. My love of that land is growing, growing steadily with time and reflection. It's mark is deepening and I hope it will burn itself into me until I can do nothing but return--Ireland has indeed left its' mark...

What was and what is to come...

The mind is funny thing...pieces, fragments it holds and intermingles with the past, present and possible future. The beauty of firsts, mingled with the regret of the same. Recollections sweet and precious evoked by the shrouded moon or starlit sky. Melodies bring memories of the past and draw ones soul backward. Words, snatches of a conversation, a touch, a hand, the rhythm of a song engraved upon the heart forever...the mind does not soon forget...

Jumping...

The small boy stands stiffly beside the sparkling blue water of a swimming pool. His legs are bent at the knees--ready. His vibrant yellow swim trunks hang new and dry upon his small body. His tongue protrudes out of the side of his small mouth--his green eyes are focused intently upon the strong outstretched arms which await his small frame--he hesitates. Slowly he clenches his hands into little fists. Releasing one, he clutches at his sun burned nose and with one defining movement, leaps from the side of the pool--letting go then, he simply jumps...

Adaptation

Upon two fronts does this concept face me at present. First, in my summer geology course. San Antonio community college is proving a means by which I am coming to appreciate JBU in an entirely new way and gain perspective upon many fronts. My geology professor teaches and explains evolution as undeniable fact. It is not so much the "evolution" part that bothers me, because I am extremely open to its possibilities and that God perhaps used such mechanisms to propel this world; however, I find her dogmatic method maddening and insulting, for some reason. She speaks of science as one speaks of religion--odd?

My second is the concept of novel to film adaptation. I watched a particularly terrible adaptation of A Wrinkle in Time tonight with my papa and loathed it entirely--I honestly felt embarrassed for those who spawned the film and for the author of the book. I do not handle well the adaptation of a book or novel to film--perhaps I'm a purist, but for the love of all things good and holy--please do not insult a great work of literature by butchering it completely, please. The novel is overtly Christian and I fear perhaps that was a minor cause for the films failure. Why does it seem that most "Christian" productions, films, etc. are horribly cheesy, poorly made and not creative in the least. Is God the creator of all beauty, creativity? It is the church that ought to be producing greatness, but instead the world dominates...what are we going to do about it?

Adaptation...oh my.

Wide Open Spaces...

The weekend was unforgettable. Kansas and a cabin offered me more solitude, rest (well, not so much rest:) rich conversation, fun and friends than I could have asked or wished for. I was loath to leave it--all of it. Jill's wedding was precious, quaint and very traditional. She was a beautiful bride. The weekend was filled with friendships revisited, wild peacocks, golden fields of wheat, outdoor showers, gardens, doughnuts at midnight, home rolled cigarettes and more. I felt as if I was in some haven where nature reigned and real life was kept at bay. I enjoyed deep laughter, no sleep, intriguing conversation and horrible eating habits. The wide openness of the Kansas sky spoke to my soul and stirred my imagination. My heart was deeply awakened by those wide open spaces and I do not believe it will ever be the same...

And the tide rolls on...

Summer progresses...and with it--my life. I am settling into work at the pool, its routine, as well as a fairly settled pattern of daily life. The days no longer stretch out before me like vast expanses of nothingness, but rather as venues for life to take place. It is, however, easy to slide mindlessly into a routine in which one loses all perspective and desire for growth...monotony and routine can indeed foster stagnancy. The daily battle is then to fight madly against this ever-pressing flow towards "stuckness." The natural progression of life tends towards this position of being stuck--stagnant in a place, a mindset, a routine--so stuck that one cannot be free. It is an odd paradox--I personally desire routine, sameness, consistency, yet I loath it all at the same time. My own nature tends towards the former and it is for that very reason that I fight against it...

Well, the routine will be broken this Thursday at a bleary-eyed 6:50 a.m. when I leave for Kansas, a wedding, and revelry. My dear friend Jill is getting married and I am fleeing the terrible heat of Texas, for a time, in order to partake in the festivities. I cannot wait...but then again, I can. Life is here, now--the present--not then. I refuse to live forever in the future, or for that matter in the past. Life is here and it is now...