trying .
is this not all of us . trying . living what we think and hope . scraping making shaping . i cannot shake what i will not be . we three talk so much . how i want to stop . to start . shhhh
why i am losing my religion
there are those who become tired of religion and leave it, and those leave religion because it does not fit nicely into what they want to be real. then there are those who lose it. i feel like i am losing it, in the process of. ironically, this has nothing to do with a losing of faith or feeling of distance from God. rather, as one draws closer it would seem that things are just unable to stick and fall away. we are arriving naked, something impossible for the ashamed.
practically, i am finding myself confused and not able to understand talk i once very much enjoyed to enter into. talk about God, about the Church. it is feeling like times when due to lack of sleep or exhaustion my ability to communicate in spanish slips and i feel like i did in my first days here in bolivia – completely foreign to the conversation.
some of the thoughts in my head make me laugh for how ludicrous they seem. i hear God laughing with me, which is encouraging, but still makes we wonder what this is all about.
anyways. hello and love after a spell away.
the most interesting people
the most interesting people in a temple and church are not the clergy but the parishoners, for they tell more of the Truth that exists in that temple and more of Holy Presence than all the words of its leaders combined.
what the heavens could tell us
on a night heavy with stress, under a sky painted with clouds that tried to hide the splendour beyond, i sat eyes up and melted. there is Love in the air; that night i stole the chance and breathed it in deeply, but it is always there and i needn’t have been so greedy in the moment. it is a Love that a woman cannot give a man, nor a man a woman, but only a God who is Love the Beloved – which i am, which we are. space is vast, the stars mark measures we cannot fathom, yet across this infinite God is, and we are made to feel the Nothing and All at the same (time). this is a great Love, which recognizes the obscure plain nature of is, which Loves us in and as this obscure plain soul.God, are we all not the work of your hands, yet who among us loves that which we have made as you? how can I love you with a love even faintly similar to that great Love with which you love me? You who have numbered the stars and the sands, who have walked with prophets and kings, who hears all the prayers of all the souls always, how is it that you hear me now, so small and simple and hidden amongst this great mass? I love you, I love you …
photo from our house, taken by Corry Flattstrange personalities making fiction so much more interesting…
perhaps i am one of them, in some ways i should hope i would be.
so locked in a certain pattern, mind, life – deep in it, yet closed to all but it.
i want to be simply because they make the Story so much more interesting to read. they drive us mad, they seems so dense and foolish in their state of muse that we want to leap into the pages and shake their words straight, or at least do some basic editing. but we rarely do. at first i thought it was for fear, as i have met a fair share of these folks this past month. but it is not fear, at least of the expected. it is that i love these maniacs. they colour the pages when there are only words and offer us genuine characters in a world of bland regurgitation of that which we have already read between different sheets / covers.
on fiction, i just read life of pi. i enjoy the questions it brings up, the way it has the reader almost certainly preferring the more elaborate tale than that which sounds more “realistic”, the way it subtly associates this with religion. the core, no matter the story around it, is the thing to focus on. this is a beautiful and dangerous way of looking at things, simply because stories can be told about Truth and non-Truth, and fiction has a way of painting things in different colours, such that Truth may appear to be false, and that which is not Truth may appear truth.
wolves dressing up like sheep, sheep like wolves, and whole plethora of turkeys running about…
the influence of movies
tonight we watched the constant gardener. last saturday it was imagining argentina.both cause a degree of inner rage, and yet what can one do with this inspired anger? I find myself moved to either a conscious retreat to numbness or unreachable dreams of action. neither is productive. then i think somehow finding the injustice that is existent immediately around me and doing something with it might be the most viable alternative.
it is become constantly aware of the suffering around us that we are able to share in this sufferings – that is, to be compassionate. being exposed to suffering through movies makes it less personal and we are unable to in any real way enter into it in compassion. thus, if want to be compassionate, while these movies may move our hearts, we must then go into our everyday lives with the same rage for every small injustice that we felt for the grand injustice we have seen on film.