do you think she knew?

How does the story go? She opened that box, and brought to earth every evil and painful thing. And left in the box was Hope, sorry and frail as She was. So she took Hope into her heart and there She found a home.

were the contents of that Box really so dissimilar? what if she'd left Hope in the box? she could have saved us from a greater pain than famine, fear, war, or hate. she could have saved us from Hope. but she didn't. i think the mistress of hindsight knew that Hope could kill. but she also knew that Hope might save us. she knew she couldn't release such a terrible and beautiful thing on the world, so she hid Her in her chest. and now we all will carry Her, broken as She is, until She saves us.

or kills us fucking dead.

on weight, the practical applications of a bucket, and alchemy

things i have learned tonight:

It's hard to steer a planet.

or a heart.

Albatrosses are fucking heavy. shoot one sometime, you'll see.

There are things you cannot avoid.

There are things you cannot keep.

Buckets do no good for a bullet wound, but sometimes it's all you get. at least it keeps the mess up off the floor.

There are things you will never understand, no matter how hard you try.

There are things you will understand perfectly, no matter how you wish it weren't so.

Intent is just a word.

There's alot of waiting to be done.

Things move very quickly. sometimes.

Lead will never turn to gold. but given time, it may go the other direction.

It doesn't matter which you carry, it gets goddamn heavy to have that kind of thing in your chest for very long. Or on your sleeve.
or anywhere, really. sometimes it's best to just put it away for a little while until you think you can carry it again.

There are worse fates. right?

I have alot to learn. and time enough to do it, i suppose.

Let me tell you something

Love is not the answer.
Love is not all you need.
Love is not a feeling.
Love is not something you will be ready for.

Love conquers nothing.

Love is a question.
Love is a beginning, not an end; never a means.
Love is a choice.
Love says, "I'm not ready. I'm not OK. I'm not perfect, but I want to learn to love you. Even if I fail today, tomorrow, and tomorrow again, I want to know you. I want you to know love."

Love wins.

Here there is enough

Our deepest pain is the child of our hope and our fear. We hold out hope that this life is not all there is. I'm not talking about life after death. I'm talking about life after hurt. Life after brokenness. Life after a broken family. Life after the death of a lover. Life within death. We hold onto our hope that this vale will be lifted, and we will find good in this life.

And there is fear. But our fear is not that we might find this life is truly ugly and bad. Our darkest fear is that our hope is misplaced. It is not evil that scares us. It is not pain. It's the absence of good. The futility of our hope. I can tell you I fear nothing because I have hope. If hope is lost, all is lost.


Here there is darkness.
Here there is fear.
Here there is doubt
Here there is pain.
Here there is hope.
Here there is trust.
Here there is faith.

Here there is love.

All we are is all we are

There are some areas of my life that have been bad for so long. Now I have good things happening and I don't trust it. I'm suspicious of beauty, happiness. I try to enjoy it--and I do--but sometimes I'm just waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under me. I'm gun shy.

In small doses, this probably isn't so bad. Keeps me from taking the good things for granted. Trouble is, this isn't small doses.

Really, I've always had plenty of self-doubt. It's served me well: I'm not often overconfident, always trying to improve, and I listen more than I talk.

I guess I'm just seeing that there are unhealthy sides to this, too.

I don't know if this ties in, but it's something else I want to talk about. This is my arbitrary segue.

Segue.

Why don't we believe in good? I was talking with some friends about what heaven means, what it means to advance the Kingdom. We can believe in God, but not Good.

We can believe in alot. There's no issue for some people in accepting a literal 6 day creation, a many-headed beast, a moon made of blood, stars falling out of the sky, and so on.

These are things I have trouble believing literally. Fantastic stories taken literally, philosophically justified and scientifically emasculated. We take these beautiful, colorful stories and imprison them in the monochrome bronze of fact.

I digress.
My point is this: so many people can take the most unbelievable things as literal fact but when it comes to taking Jesus at His word, we just won't swallow it.

He talks about making the world a better place. "Oh, come on. Are you serious? Look at this world. You really think it's going to get better?"
What if I do? I know it's a bad place. I've seen ugly, terrible things and I know I have a relatively good life.

But I've seen beautiful things. There's good here, too.

The Bible. Christian history. Human history. Our history has always been about creation, redemption, rebirth, rescue. Never escape. Never waiting for destruction so we (or God) can start over. God hasn't given up on us. We've given up on ourselves.

We sit in our ivory towers and lament the fall of man. We do nothing. At best we busy ourselves with some good deed, some token gesture of love. But we hold on to our defeatism: "Sure, we may do some good here, but this whole world is lost. We can only hope to touch a few."

And so we only touch a few.

Nietzsche wrote that "The Christian resolution to find the world ugly and bad has made the world ugly and bad."

I couldn't agree more.

But how can we undo this?

Traffic

I like to comment on other people's driving ability. I like to complain about how people don't understand the nuances of driving etiquette that no one really understands. I like to feel smart while I'm doing this.

I also like to roll through stop signs. I like to turn on red. I don't like to be bothered checking my blind spot. They'll move. They always do. And don't give me that "bad driver" crap. I know things. Things about driving.

Isn't this how we are with life? We can sit and bitch for hours about friends or family or strangers and the way they do [action] all the time. I can complain about politicians, celebrities, and "kids these days" for the better part of forever. I can feel like a good person because I'm not like them. But if you start in on me, I won't stand for it. I am intimately familiar with my own flaws, thank you. I'm doing my best to ignore them, and I don't need you messing all that up.

I'm just sayin', is all.

We are not.

We are not well adjusted.
We are not well off.
We are not well.
We are not.

I keep expecting things that I know will never happen and
I keep ending up right here,
Somehow suprised that the results haven't changed.

People walk away,
our safe realities fall to pieces,
dreams and nightmares will both end in waking.
Sooner or later, everything fails, falls, and breaks down.

I keep thinking I want to do something about it,
but I have to wonder if it's really worth the effort.

Will it even make a difference?
Why fight entropy?
It's the law!

Besides, I'm as maladjusted as anyone I might presume to help.
I offer advice, only to have my own flaws lain out quite nicely in front of me.

"Why should I listen to you?

Excellent question.
You shouldn't.

But you also should.
I've learned quite a lot from listening to people.

I listened to you for the longest time.
I trusted your voice because there were years behind it.
I trusted your age and experience.

I listened to you because you were young and your ideas moved me.
You had perspective and innocence I was sure I'd lost.

I listened because you had more things than I.
I listened because you were happy with so little.

I listened because I looked up to you.
I listened because you looked up to me, and I wanted to know what could possess you to do such a thing.

I listened because you were not me.

I was convinced you had some great secret that came with not being me,
And if I listened long enough, I'd learn the Secret (no, not that one) and be someone new.

All that listening and I think I've figured you out.
I know your Secret.
It's just not what I thought.
See, the big Secret is, you're not any different.
You're every bit as fucked up as I am.

You're as scared as I ever was or will be.
You're terrified and insecure,
and the only thing you've ever been sure of is that you're

the only one

and you'll be damned before you let anyone see you

like this.

Maybe the best help I can offer isn't advice.
Maybe it is the assurance that you're not the only one like this.

I guess that makes it my Secret, too.
I wonder who has looked at me, wondering what I knew that made me so different.
So sorry if I let you down.

Truth is, we are not what we wished for.
We are not what we were promised.
We are not below a little self-righteousness and pride.
We are not above our basest instincts.
We are not the pinnacle of evolution.
We are not here for the amusement of God.
We are not getting the point.
We are not the point.
We.
A r e.
N o t.