rollerblading thoughts

1.)
Actualization of self -
fully realizing
who you are,
what defines you,
and the undeniable
significance of your soul -
is important.

2.)
I've discovered that the fuel
to love others
comes from loving myself,

which comes from
being in love with a God
that made me myself,

which comes from
loving the nature
of God Herself -
and all of Her
perfect, beautiful
creativity.

Thus,
the source of Love.

3.)
I think a lot of us are unintentionally ordinary.
We set out on a driven quest
to be known and appreciated for who we are,
but soon we sink into the pit of mediocrity.

4.)
Healing is a process.
Healing is feeling the sun.
Healing is feeling like everything's okay,
even if it's just for the moment.

clouds, clouds 

clouds, clouds,
sing to me;
reveal to me
your bubbly shape
and magnificent form
of swirling cotton,
tenderly soft, yet
tantalizingly beautiful.

A glance upward
exposes a beauty unmatched.
The confidence of love
paired with
simple, charming grace is
exposed in your wispy fringe.
A feathery vulnerability,
a lovely affair
is artfully painted
in these downy
white masses
that float in
the mystical beyond.


clouds, clouds,
tell me,
what is your secret?

There's something inside of me that is filled with hope - it cannot be ceased under any circumstance. I have seen tragedy, I have seen death (touched death), I have questioned my sanity, I have doubted my belief, I have fallen apart, I have been broken to pieces, reassembled, then broken again.

I am makeshift.

Yes, I am makeshift. Every day, every moment, I am changing, twisting, turning, building upon what I learn and know, becoming different, becoming new, morphing into myself.

There is an all-encompassing theme to who I am - a being filled with hope. A hope that there is more; there is more than me and my limited human experience. There is a creator of me, a creator of us all; a creator that isn't anything but madly in love with us. For all that we are - our broken pieces, our makeshift lives, our shittiness, our joyousness. We are a sum of love; built by love, broken by love, reassembled by love.

The creator fills the cracks where we've been broken and torn. In the midst of darkness enters the goodness, the fullness, of light. A shining, dazzling, beautiful glint of this feeling identified as hope - a feeling never fully depleted, for it is what gives us the faith to carry on.

one of the bad days 

How would I be capable
of explaining this life,
this series of events,
explaining the way it has
changed me, morphed me,
into a person I no longer know,
to any other soul?

I'm fully convinced
that no other would understand;
I don't feel comfortable in my
own skin, my own mind.

I feel foreign.
My feet travel forward,
immersing themselves in
the continuation of time,
of life, of activity,
but my mind protests.

Where do I belong now?
with a lost father, a lost faith -
at loss of any explanation,
any meaning behind the madness.

I am a lonely wayfarer
consumed with the brutality
of uncertainty.

Am I going insane or unveiling the secrets that a tedious life keeps from us? 

There is a true, pure force within me.

I'm looking for it. Every day, always - I'm looking for it. That undeniable feeling of fulfillment and truth that comes and goes.

It comes when I see the sunlight, the clouds, the layered green trees manipulated by gusty spurts of air.

It comes when I peer into the eyes of a loved one. When I notice them - honestly and fully notice them for all that they are, and all that they are worth.

It comes in the stillness of sight, the beauty of the day, the dark of the night. My eyes are a portal to what I understand of the world, of what I comprehend and make sense of, they are my compass to discovery.

It comes when I realize that this true, pure force within in me, the same force that I long to feel, I long to hold on to, I long to make my life about, has a mirrored force (high above) that created all that surrounds me.

It feels a lot like love.

Life is a crazy occurrence. Reality is unnatural, but we as humans (limited beings) have made it out to be natural, normal, monotonous...

Let's think this through.

People - our feet are bound to a water-filled, land-covered orb suspended in space. There are billions of orbs like ours floating around us, but we inhabit this one. No one is one hundred percent certain as to why we're here, experiencing all these moments of pain and joy, connecting to fellow wayfarer's around us. We can claim ideas and explanations and faiths in an attempt to process why we exist here, in this place, in this time, but I am convinced that nothing is certain. Maybe certainty is overrated. Maybe to be uncertain is to be in the minority - to be in love with life regardless of explanation. How the moments fit together, what they mean, and the excitement of not yet knowing the moments that will come - uncertainty is beautiful.

What I am convinced of is that there is some force greater, beyond our comprehension, that explains the reasoning behind our seemingly irrational existence. We have to trust that force in an attempt to remain sane. If we had no purpose or reason for living, then how could we trek on? We're all trusting something - that something that keeps us alive and feeling worthy of breath. It's keeping us passionate about moving forward, it's our explanation, our flame of existence.

As if contemplating why we're here isn't bewildering enough, there's this all-embracing theory that has been long claimed to explain it all -

Love.

In each religion, spirituality, in each heart and mind, there is this strong universal concept that connects us to people and activities and life in a way that we are unable to fully describe. How interesting that the closest way I can explain my existence on this earth is by a concept of feeling that's nearly unexplainable.

Feelings of love trounce me. Talk of love overwhelms me. Attempting to rationalize why I'm madly in love with my passions burdens me. I don't want to explain it - I can't explain it. I have no answer for it. But I can feel it.

How something can be equally simple and complex at the same moment, as it is with love, strikes me as indescribable. And for some odd reason I am comforted by explaining my existence with an unexplainable concept. This reassures me that the pressure is not on me, a single, minuscule human being, to create a purpose for myself. The purpose already lives inside of me, it flows from me naturally. The purpose is love - a force beyond it all.

Life, the process of existing, is a crazy occurence.
I have found it to in no way be natural, normal, or monotonous.

the two infinities 

This is life
and I am existing
in this moment
suspended in time.
My breath sustains me,
my heart retains me.
I feel an overwhelming
presence of something
bigger and wiser
beyond me.
It brings me peace.

I lay beside you.
The sun shines;
it warms my skin
but you are under the ground.
(Are you able to feel the sun?)

I want to feel you here,
present in this very moment
with me, but I am unable.
I feel bothersome;
I feel incredibly anxious
as to what life will
become without you,
but I trek on.

Death is a funny thing;
life is a funny thing.
And oddly enough,
they are strikingly similar -
they both keep going,
creating the only infinities
that we know
(we are either alive
or we are dead).
They propel us to feel,
to dream, to create who we are.
You will live
and then you will die:
and who will you become?

The limiting reagent of life
is time.
Time is limiting, fleeting, fearsome.
Your time has run out.
My time is ticking
as I lay here,
sun shining, breeze blowing,
inspiring thoughts
of existence.