A few weeks ago I had the vision that waves were rising all around this garden, tall and mighty. Like the ocean, like the red sea. And I felt it tonight, standing out there. (And I wondered why it is not falling, why it is not crashing down on doubts and enemies, what are the waters waiting for?) I felt God saying that He’s separating me from it. I am learning to not be all the things I’m not. And first then the water can fall on my enemies without falling on me. How can God kill the army if we’re on the ocean floor at the same time? There’s a height and width and depth to the importance of faith in forgiveness and the death of sin and it being killed off in your own body.
Tag Archives: god
Midnight Thoughts
How do I accept this? How do I find so much faith in forgiveness that I’m not even scared of sinning, making mistakes anymore. Not that I should, but maybe winning is when I’ll stop being scared that I’ll fall. Come to the psyche-challenging, all conquering notion that there’s no such thing as falling, only grace, and when will I stop worshipping what I think I deserve.
These are the midnight thoughts that creep through my brain. Either in this form, but usually behind something else.
Power
My empty cup smells like salt water, and I leave Florida soon but I haven’t written about the ocean yet. My thoughts drown before I even manage to get my feet wet. So I remind myself of the tides that have been promised me, I don’t chase the waves but are lifted by the power of the moon.
The Change
Nothing ever changes but I always feel like I have to be going.
Move on, get better, take steps and make sure that they’re showing.
But I am still myself.
I like abstract ideas more than I like reality.
Not as much how things actually are – but in my head – how they’re supposed to be.
When I look out at my imagined timeline I see an open future of daydreams and hope, but I don’t think about the fact that I’d have to carry myself there, like a backpack of stones,
I’d have to bring these spinning atoms, these empty doubts, these worn out bones.
I am still myself.
Sometimes I manage to get rid of it all,
all the fear and failure, every sadness, every fall
I rinse it away with new water, leave it behind in black footprints that I forget even were mine,
but then I learn the same things every time.
And in between I hide in the songs that make me wish you’d pity me,
I shut myself in and dream of being seen.
I’ll glare at you but you won’t see it because in comparison to my heart my voice will always be lesser,
because I am a hopeless people pleaser and I walk in pink hair and cute dresses.
And that’s the drawn out prelude of the end, because I am a ticking bomb,
but it’s all internal so it will never unfold.
I just have an itching soul with nowhere to explode.
I’ll slam my fists against stone cold floors because you were supposed to make me better.
You were supposed to fix me.
If you want me. You better make me better.
Still. After this, after all. I am still myself.
If you want to know why I run like this
It’s because I have fear dripping out through my fingertips.
No media before breakfast
I’m trying this out. I’ve always hated mornings with a burning passion and it bothers me that they’re so necessary, that the start of the day shapes the rest of it. Not completely, but I wish it had zero impact. To me, the point of the No media before breakfast rule is to start out stable. We hear so much, listen to so much and choose to look at so much without caring as much about not letting it be the ruler of us. Not caring about how much impact it has on us. I want to start the day off knowing who I am, knowing who God is and just enjoy reality for a while. Then I allow myself to escape it, but I always try to love reality the most. Because when I don’t, it wrecks me. When I don’t, I just spiral down further into the unrealistic dream of actually managing to escape reality. But we can’t. And reality is where I find the actual happiness anyway, the type that is free from pain.
eirians 