Welcome Cloudy Skies

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading -- treading -- till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through --

And when they all were seated,

A Service, like a Drum --

Kept beating -- beating -- till I thought

My Mind was going numb --

And then I heard them lift a Box

And creak across my Soul

With those same Boots of Lead, again,

Then Space -- began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,

And Being, but an Ear,

And I, and Silence, some strange Race

Wrecked, solitary, here --

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down --

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing -- then –

-Emily Dickinson

This poem by Emily Dickinson gives me chills. We read it in one of my classes a few weeks ago and I haven’t been able to escape it. It plunges the reader into the world of the unknown, and its lack of resolution only adds to the uneasiness. It has little to do with the rest of what I want to talk about, but I couldn’t resist sharing…

____________________

Stressed out.

These are two little words with big implications. Together they sum up how many people are feeling right about now. Well, at least the people that I am surrounded by.

The season of corn mazes and haunted houses has come to a close and the bitter cold is blowing in. I personally do not mind – I love the snow, I grew up in artic conditions – But for others, watching the sun slowly disappear brings only sadness and depression.

I have watched more people scarily sink into their own thoughts in the past two months than I ever thought I would see. And once again the reality of pain and suffering wins out. I know there is good out there. I am not that depressing; however, it is hard to see beauty when the people I love are in pain.

I almost feel bad for saying that right now, I am in a good place. Over the past few weeks I have felt love lost and love gained. I have been lucky enough (and brave enough) to begin opening up to the people I know love me most.

I am also fortunate in the sense that senioritis has yet to kick in. I love my classes this semester. I am, however, looking forward to eventually studying English at a secular University. Grove City is a great place for beginnings and it has helped me build a solid foundation, but they often taint and sugar coat some great authors. I am tired of hearing everything from a Christian perspective. I want to learn about Shakespeare, Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne from a different lens.

I can’t wait.

Empty Apologies

As human beings we have a great capacity for hurt. It is often easier to hurt than to love. We are selfish, spiteful, judgmental, closed-minded...and the list goes on. There are days like today when the realization of the pain that I have inflicted on people knocks the breath out of me.

We are constantly trying to convince ourselves that each individual person is responsible for themselves. This is true to an extent, but we are lying to ourselves if we think that we don't severely impact people every day. It is up to us to decide whether or not we use that impact positively or negatively.

I hate the pain I cause. I hate the pain I am going to cause.

But sometimes - it all seems inevitable.

Scribbles

There are days that I scream to be real.

I have a strong desire to peel away the mask that has been plastered on.

And then there are times when I wonder if it is even a mask at all or simply influences from all that surrounds me.

Church, family, friends - each with its own associated stigmas and pressures. What is real? What is right? Who am I?

-A question that has been asked by millions who have gone before me.

I know who I am to an extent - I know what I am passionate about, what my desires are, who I love...

...But even these are always changing.

With the great capacity that I have for love and life, comes the same capacity for the opposite.

It is crazy when you think about it really.

I see my life as my own personal mission. It is a mission that everyone is on whether they realize it or not -

I am not out to accuse, to discover right versus wrong, to condemn - but to find what He has for me.

I am of the belief that if my focus is upward, all else will fall into place - despite what the institution tells me.

But what I am convinced my eyes are on Him and they are convinced their gaze is upward - and we still agree to disagree?

Then what?

Sorry about all the nonsense ramblings. There has been a lot on my mind lately - I guess that is one of the things that comes with this Christian walk. I think too much sometimes and ask way too many questions.

Being stuck here amongst conservative Christian students can be stifling - all the more reason for me to exercise my inquisitive faculties and get them riled up.

I hate the idea of blindly accepting what has been put before you as a maturing Christian. Ones faith as a child serves as a foundation - but there comes a time when you have to begin thinking on your own.

All I am saying is that many people here never do that. They take what parents, pastors, and professors have to say without thinking about it themselves.

Well-

That. Won't. Be. Me.

Twice As Bold

I took my power in my hand

And went against the world;

'T was not so much as David had,

But I was twice as bold.

I aimed my pebble, but myself

Was all the one that fell.

Was it Goliath was too large,

Or only I too small?

-E. Dickinson

Poetry is taking over my life. While I haven't been writing much these days, I have been reading excessively.

I was flipping through my volume of Dickinson this afternoon and this poem jumped off the page and spoke. I love its opening lines: "I took my power in my hand / And went against the world;"

There are many meanings that can come from this poem, I don't know where to begin. I am not sure if telling you what I think really even matters - it is up to each of us to find meaning in anything. I guess I am just out to provide food for thought. I love thinking and prompting thought - deep discussions fuel me. Do they leave me exhausted and sometimes defeated? Definitely. But they also allow me to grow as a person, to open up my mind to new ideas, expand my semantic networks. Semantic networks - learned about those in psychology and I just love the idea and imagery of it all.

Our mind is a network of ideas and things learned, one that we are ever expanding and adding to. There is an endless possibility to what we can learn and our brains are never full. I love the idea of new thoughts being added and connecting to the old. - And all of these networks connecting and weaving within one another make up our very own semantic network.

I apologize for the choppiness of my writing here. It has been a while and my thoughts are scattered. I plan to continue writing - And post more of my own poems soon! Until then I'll keep putting up poems from my favorites for sustenance.

A Room in Pieces

I struggled all day with whether or not I was going to post this one. It is pretty personal and describes a lot of where I am at right now. So read with that in mind. As always your thoughts, comments, and criticisms are much appreciated.

I live inside a room of my own

Where all the “have dones” and “am doings”

Have been held hostage.

And the answer to their question: “Who are you?”

Sings out with my accomplishments.

Successes stacked in every corner

Relationships hidden beneath a veil

Failures pushed aside

And words of affirmation

Hanging like an oversized poster

I scream to make them believe,

“This is me!”

Twenty years without spring.

Devoid of growth and renewal

The walls begin to crack and fade.

Together rust and fists destroy, and

What was once my refuge is

Now my prison.

Amidst the wreckage I kneel,

Stunned and staring at what I’ve created .

Debris and broken relationships

Litter the floor,

But there she stands

Unwavering at the door

Gazing upon my brokenness,

These ruins together we created.

Time freezes as the weight of my actions

Bear down upon her.

Options and emotions begin pouring in,

Telling her to run – but we both know

She never will.

Through pain and tears she whispers

“Be still…”

Quiet and cautious, together we sit

Watching and waiting

For comfort, for healing, for restoration.

The Mask I Wear

Holy crap it has been way too long. I really don't have the time to write and post a full on blog at the moment, but I just finished this poem that I wanted to share. As an aspiring writer, I would love to hear your thoughts. If you are getting anxious because I haven't written in a while...Do not fear, finals are near! Which means that I will have a heck of a lot more time to freely write. Currently I am confined to particular subject matters, but sometimes the poetry just happens to spill out onto my notebook paper. Oops.

I think this is the first poem that I have shared with "the masses"...So hopefully it doesn't bomb. Here goes:

The alarm clock rings at 6a.m.

A limp arm reaches for silence

And slowly coming into focus,

Is another day of inner-violence.

Two feet drag across the floor

Searching for a greater force.

Any reason to make it out the door.

Into a world of meaningless hellos

Where life and death are the same,

And my hearts cry bellows.

A melancholy cry for change

Is muffled from within

Because I have made my exchange

This mask devoid of calling and passion

Highly decorated but cracked and dried

Worn because it promised life everlasting.

As time unwavering pushes onward

With obligations that must be filled

The line between slave and free, now blurred

Battling until they can rest again

Amidst the walls deemed safe

Thoughts of what could have been

Slowly fading are the muffled screams

As thoughts of life, passion, and meaning

Collide into a dream…

The alarm clock rings at 6a.m.

"Whatever you are, be a good one."

The desire to write often comes at the most inopportune times. Ideally I would be reading or clearing the mound of clothing off of my bed – I couldn’t decide what to wear this morning. Instead I am sitting here, on this corner of my bed that is, for the most part, cleared off, and I am typing away. When the thoughts are flowing, you can’t ignore them. Especially when it has been so long since this passion to write has been so alive.

I attended a dessert meeting this evening for students interested in becoming an RA. Even though I am already an RA, I had to attend since I am required to go through the application process for next year. Our director of Residence Life, who is one of the greatest people I know, talked to us about one of her passions, studying the founding fathers. She presented us with a quote by Abraham Lincoln – one that I know is going to stick with me for a long time:

“Whatever you are, be a good one.”

Immediately, two questions came to mind – Who am I? And whatever I am, am I doing that well?

Jamie challenged us with these questions, and then put a spin on it. Instead of the word good, she put ‘faithful’ in its place:

“Whatever you are, be a faithful one.”

In the dictionary, faithful is defined as – steady in allegiance or affection; loyal; constant. It does not mean successful, important, or prosperous, but devoted and steady.

Who am I? That first question is one I have passionately been seeking an answer to for the past eight months. I never gave much thought to the question before last summer, but now it is one that lives with me every day. So who am I? What I know so far is this:

I am a daughter of the King, a woman of faith, a woman on her knees

I am a daughter to my parents

I am a sister

I am a friend

I am a student

I am an RA

I am an aspiring writer

That is all that I have so far, but I think it is a good start. Also, just know that I really only listed the practical ones. I left off many of the personality and character traits. (Oh, and I am also a sinner. But that is not something I am trying to do well or be faithful in doing.) My focus here was on who I am in the eyes of God, who He has created me to be.

Now for the second question, am I doing all of these things well? Am I being faithful? Asking myself that question opened my eyes. Suddenly it is not about being successful, but about being faithful. I should be who I was created to be faithfully, pouring all of my heart and soul into it. I may not be “successful” at any of these things, but that doesn’t matter. It is when I do all things faithfully and to the best of my ability, that I am truly me.

I hate to cut this short, but I really want to post tonight and I am having a hard time keeping my eyes open. If I have time tomorrow I will elaborate and hopefully hit this idea home a bit more. Goodnight friends.