Perfect

I am not perfect. Obviously. I have, however, had people tell me that I am. This annoyed me profusely.

Why?

Because I am not perfect. In anyway. At all. And I am extremely happy that way. Many people strive for perfection; some even go to extreme lengths to even graze what we humans call Perfect. We, as a species, tend to find beauty in seemingly perfect things.

But . . . what is Perfection?

Is it the Best?

Is it the least tainted?

Is it the most expensive?

Or is it what each individual finds to be "perfect" in their own eyes?

Some people may find Perfection in shiny art, some in personal values, some even in food.

For me: I find "perfect" to be in old things, in (what others usually think) ugly things, and odd things. I use the word things because Perfection in my mind can be absolutely anything, except . . . a person.

People were not meant to be perfect. We were made a certain way, and that way is imperfect. In God's eyes, we are Perfect the way he created us. So why strive for what We think is Perfection?

In a way, it can be useless; causing us to be consumed with Image, Vanity, and being The Best (which does not truly exist). Is it really necessary?

No; we don't need to be perfect, for The Perfect One died so that we don't have to be. He was the Only perfect One.

Perfection: for God and God alone

Imperfection: it's what makes us human

Candles

~The candles make circular patterns on the ceiling. The shadows quiver as the flames flicker. The smell of the spiced, melted wax seeps into me. I watch the shadows as they dance across my dark room. Even though they are on the other side of the room, on top of my dresser, I can feel their warmth; or maybe it's just my imagination.

I roll over, my back to the candles. The flickering shadows still being cast on my wall i now face. I raise my hand from beneath the covers, making faint shadow-puppets on the wall. I notice how the yellowish light makes shivering patterns on my hand as well. I gaze at the trembling patterns, mesmerized by the artistic shapes cast by those inanimate objects. I slip my arm back under the sheets, knowing that I need to sleep, its late.

I twist onto my back. Sleep does not come easily tonight. Very little is rushing through my mind, as it always happens when i can't seem to catch the Dream Boat. My thoughts move slowly tonight, weaving in and out of each other; organized yet jumbled at the same time. I think calmly, deliberately, now knowing that it is no use to try to sleep quite yet. I go through the day, the "scenes" passing like slides in an old-fashioned picture show. I go on to think of other matters. I think too deeply, I begin to feel those things that I've worked to hard to hide, to conceal from myself. I shudder.

Rolling back over, I now face those captivating candles. The yellow-orange flames, turning blue and almost purple then returning to the yellow light. I wonder what it would be like to be a candle; to be able to give off a spicy yet smooth scent and glow like there's no tomorrow. Then I think of when the candles finally burn to the end of their wicks; and, in a sense, a candle can die too, just like humans are meant to. Yet . . . I savor how the wax columns burn for now, just as I savor every minute of my own life. I know it is sometimes painful, but that is how life is meant to be; we learn from it and are able to live in a better light. With that thought I sleep~

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine; Let it shine, Let it shine, Let it shine.

Material or Genuine?

Material things. So many of them. Yet why?

Recently, I was talking to a friend of mine; he says, in line of the conversation, "just get your parents to get it for you." Well, at the moment my parents (more or less my mother) are "limiting my expenses." Although never actually using that phrase, that is what they are doing. I have no problem with this; yet my friend replies with "oh, im sorry." Which I found slightly odd. The thing is, most everyone theses days practically rely on material things. But we don't need quite a lot of the stuff in our homes. Yes, it all is pretty to look at and nice to have, but what is its' purpose. We don't need the countless decorations, useless pillows, tv, iPod, computer, 72 pairs of shoes, odd little trinkets we won't throw away, rubber-band balls, scarfs that don't even keep you warm, pretty bowls with wicker balls or wax fruit filling them, 7 bottles of perfume/cologne that never get used, bobble-heads, stupid magazines, candles, little statues or figurines, and it goes on and on and on and on.

The sad part is: some people think that hey NEED this stuff; when, in all actuality and reality, they could easily live with out them. By buying and slowly accumulating so many useless items, we think that we Need these Material objects. However... we don't.

The thing is, with the world going 'round as it does, many lives revolve around Material things. With huge houses that only 2 or 3 people live in and owning 5 cars, people find their worth in material items. It just doesn't make sense to me! Why would you want to be known by how big of a house you have, or b how many designer bags you own? I would much rather be known by how Big of a Heart I have, or how much I can Love the people I Care about. Material things just don't seem to have an appeal of who I project myself to be.

I do admit, to my dismay, that I too have fallen for some of these things. A Hypocrite am I? I should hope not. Although I do admire the new purse I have newly acquired, I know i could have just as well gone without it. I have ended up throwing out, giving away, and selling many of the useless things I owned. Was it hard to do? Well at first yes, as is most everything on the first try, but in the end I was (and am) quite satisfied with my decision to let go of those idiot things that do not matter.

And i challenge you to do the same. Give it up. Anything. You could even simple start with Lent: just give up all (or at least some) of your Material trash. You could find that you can easily go without them, maybe even feel better than with them.

Be someone worth who you Truly are; not what your belongings have made out into.

So with that, I Challenge You.

Joy v.s. Happiness (round one)

Writing has always seemed to being me Joy. Reading as well; although i must admit that I quite enjoy being read to. However, i wonder, is it really Joy that i get from writing (typing would be a better word) down my thoughts and fantasies, or is it Happiness??

i suppose it could be just Happiness, for after a while I no longer feel it; but. . . I do always feel that spark when I'm writing. That feeling never fluctuates, but is it Joy? Many things make me Happy, such as:

1. music
2. bike rides in the fall
3. autumn
4. taking pictures
5. piano

These things are all wonderful, but they don't keep me satisfied forever. That is where the things that bring me Joy come in:

1. sunny days with just enough clouds to gaze at
2. sleepovers with emma
3. going to church
4. loving

To many these may seem like ordinary things, but they bring me immense Joy. I guess in the end, I will just have to find if writing brings me Joy or that oh-so familiar feeling of temporary Happiness. As for now, life will go on, mixing Joy, Sadness, Anger, and Happiness together, sometimes separating them just long enough to decipher the true emotion of what is going on.