City of Crushed Vision

A city with the power to deflate dreams. A terrifying thought. Each day spent dwindles into monotony. Passion lost amid the fatal mundane. Quenching the very hope and life to which we should so frantically cling. Our grip loosens, teased away by alluring forces we cannot recognise. Blind to the face of resignation, we follow him freely. Led into acceptance of a lesser existence. Racing heartbeats slow to the steady doomfilled march. Eyes cast down. Hearts contained. And we do not realise it, but vision has been tamed. Dreams with potential to change the world, reduced to the ordinary. The attainable. The realistic. How did it come to this? How can we have been so unseeing. So fast asleep in our own minds not to have noticed the subtle departure of meaning and purpose from this life.

Let me remind you.

You live for something. For something far greater than yourself. You have been redeemed from death by love. By a love which conquors death and renders the powerful powerless. The love which onced caused your feeble heart to dream and become alive. You have the vision within you to change the world. Radical passion with the strength to endure all the hardships of this life, and conquor.

I know something of struggle. Of the utter devastation life can bring. Insufferable pain. To watch a teenage girl unable to lead a normal life. To feel the effects of a family broken in two. To wonder why you can't remember what it feels like to be really happy. To reach the depths of emotion never even conceived of and catch no glimpse of the end of the tunnel. I am tired of being strong. I am strong. But I am tired of being it always.

But this I know. The hope we have is not in this life. Build your hopes here and watch them crumble into nothingness, dusty remnants of good times turned to bad.
But there is hope in Jesus. In the love more real than anything ever known on this earth, yet more ethereal than the highest thought the human mind can convieve of. His love is saving. His love is strong enough for me. Strong enough for you. And strong enough for all the troubles of this world. The more my heart aches, the more I cling to the joy I find in Jesus. Happiness is temporary. But joy endures. And love and joy together, will save this word. If only you and I step out to bring it.

Wake up. Shake off the dust, heaped high upon your shoulders. Do not let the place you find yourself in limit the scope of your dreams. Look beyond the horizon, to the distant unknown. This time and this place are but moments. You have an eternity to live for. Begin today.

Loose ends

These are a few blogs I had begun and never followed through with. But they want publishing. I don't know why. They just serve no purpose as they were. Stagnant. It's as if they were still inside my head. And in there its getting way too cluttered.
So I apologise. This won't flow well. None of the following will be connected to one another. It will be random. Some of it may not make sense. It has to be done.


Dear Jesus...
Please, let me be a part of your story.
I don't want my own.


"If music be the food of love, play on..."
The food of love? Perhaps in part. But maybe more accurately, music is the food of the heart. It strikes me in the centre of my being. It flows inside of me and becomes a part of who I am and how I feel. Music affects and heightens every hint of emotion within the heart.


I didn't feel like this when I didn't know you.
Why is nothing ever easy?


"We humans have many weaknesses. We feel too much. We die. But we do have the chance of love."
I feel far too much for my own good I think.


You leave an imprint
"Like the color that stays in your eyes after you've caught a glimpse of the sun"
I miss you.

The Dream and Reality. Should we strive for one or realise the other?

I am tired of being strong. I am tired of being strong. I am strong. But I am tired of being it always. I want to be weak. I want to lean. But I can't.
I am impatient. I am reluctant; not ready to make a decision. But I am still impatient.

Isn't it funny how friendships grow from nothing, to everything, in a matter of moments, long or short, many or few.

"All will turn to silver glass. A light on the water. All shall pass."

This is me right now.

I was writing a message to a dear dear friend. This came out.

"Aren't emotions weird. And feelings. And the way different memories make you feel. And the way different places make you feel. And the way hints in your heart of times before make you feel...so wonderful, yet so so very tragic. I feel like my heart is full and overflowing of times I miss and crave.You ever feel like your heart is resting in your throat, so that every breath feels tender and deep and real? And your heart heaves and the memory is so perfect, but you can't get it back. And your heart breaks over and over again, each time the sensation kicks in. But you are still where you are in the present moment. And it makes you want to cry. But you don't, because really you are thankful there were times in your life that were so wonderful for you to even feel this way about. But sometimes...you do.


Ha. That all just came out. I am trying to find what I feel... I may copy this into a blog. What can I say...you bring it out of me.

I LOVE you. That much I know. And I miss you.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX"

Thank you Audrey Elizabeth Smith. For helping me put into words the sensation I entertain so often, without ever knowing exactly what it is.

Right now ...

...someone, somewhere else, is smiling, moving, weeping...


I can't believe there is a "this very moment" anywhere but in this very moment.

You know?








.

Alone.

Depressing choice of heading? Sorry. Isn't it strange, I only ever seem to blog about the solemn times. At least that is what it feels like recently. But I have come to know hard times, in recent weeks. And sometimes I forget quite how hard hard times can be. I take love for granted. I take the people in my life for granted. I am so alone. And I realise that in a place where there is no love and no depth, the only thing to cling to is Jesus. Unconditional. That is the nature of His love for me. But not passive unconditional. Sacrifice as a result of real and passionate love. Trancendent. Not in keeping with the ways of this world. It may become clear through the chain of blogs published to this date, I hold love in somewhat high esteem. To me it is the centre of everything. And one day, if you find yourself in a place entirely devoid of love, you may find it hard. How can people survive without love? I know no other purpose to life, be it in the giving, or the recieving of love, no greater power on this earth.


Love.


But where is it? I can't see it anywhere around me. Why? What is wrong with this world? I have no answers. Though I seek them desperately. This place drains me. I feel I can never learn to live here. But I will. I will struggle through daily. And learn. With God. And I will try with all my might to do so with love. If its the last thing I do, I will love, no matter the cost.

I am struggling

with what to write. I cannot seem to find the words at this present moment. But something must be written. My insides need to speak. So I choose another's words. Hartley Coleridge has lent me some. I think they are fitting. They do not voice the struggle, only the perfect state of the heart. The very place we all wish to reach. The place which so often seems so far removed from our grasp.


Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No.
It is immortal as immaculate Truth,
'Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,
Drops from the stem of life--for it will grow,
In barren regions, where no waters flow,
Nor rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom.
A darkling fire, faint hovering o'er a tomb,
That but itself and darkness nought doth show,
It is my love's being yet it cannot die,
Nor will it change, though all be changed beside;
Though fairest beauty be no longer fair,
Though vows be false, and faith itself deny,
Though sharp enjoyment be a suicide,
And hope a spectre in a ruin bare.


It does not speak of the journey. It seeks only to express the character of love when observed in singular stillness. Aside from all else, from the workings and influence of this world; how it stands in perfection. Untainted and unmoved; unchanging.

It is expressed here, better than I could have achieved by my own means. Yet there is still so much to say on the matter of the journey. Perhaps that is best left unspoken of for now. From a human heart, perfect love in motion may often lose its perfection. And cease to exist. Or else the world intervenes.

Pay no mind to my thoughts. That is all they are. Stemming from the moment. Poetry, of little or no sense whatsoever, and perhaps even less truth. I don't know. Words will come and I will write. Pay no mind, for they may mean very little.

I suppose so.

It is time for me to blog again I guess.
I guess so.
So why am I so reluctant to take the plunge and put my thoughts to print?
Maybe I don't know what I am thinking anymore.
Maybe, contrary to what I thought, it is not yet time for me to blog again.
I guess not.