Silence

Silence. It's something you don't come by very often these days. Everywhere I go there is always noise, whether it's talking, the clicking of someone texting, or the most popular: music. Yes, I do love music with almost everything within me, but there is a limit. Silence is a good thing. It gives you a chance to actually think clearly. I now some people who constantly have to have noise, which is usually always music. I also must admit that I am slightly guilty of perpetually playing music, even when its only background music.

I have heard of people saying that they need background music, but is this true?? NO! You do not need it. Silence is a gift, and we should actually listen to it. God made the Earth that way; He didn't put constant music or obnoxious sounds everywhere, so should we? We should appreciate the Silence, listen to it. I know that sounds a bit, well . . . stupid: "listen to the silence" but it is possible.

For example, when I'm at the beach, or even just outside, I hate music. I would much rather just listen to the Earth; the wind especially. In general just the "silence" of Earth though. Or even just at night. After everyone is asleep, instead of getting on FB, just listen. I think that the Silence of night is the best kind of silence. Everything is asleep, nothing moves, it's just . . . quiet. And I love it. I'm pretty sure if you tried it then you would like it too. It's actually refreshing in a way, just to sit back, relax, with nothing going on, blaring in your ear, or preoccupying your mind. Just the quiet, the Silence.

So just try it. Turn off everything: the phone, the computer, the tv, even the music. And just listen, think, or just go about your normal day, your chores, your work, school, your hobbies, etc, etc. Or maybe just start a little at a time. It could just be a bit everyday; just a few moments of complete silence. Maybe meditate, pray, or do your devotion. Just do it in silence. It may even open your eyes to new ways of thinking, as I know it has done for me.

I challenge you.

To the Silence.

New Things

There is something that I love about New Things. Not necessarily things as in Christmas presents and birthday gifts, but things like rearranging my room for a new feeling, new pictures I've taken, a new day to wake up to, a new rain after a dry spell. I'm not sure what it really is but something about New Things always gives me a good feeling; for example in the morning I enjoy trying a new type of tea.

However there are many Old Things that I like more that New Things. Like old houses, old worn-out wood, old books, and old music.

There seems to be something about all of theses old, usually antique items, that I

absolutely love. I might be the feel of the worn texture or maybe that old slightly musty smell. Yet it could be the fact that every Old Thing has a story; it has been places, seen things, be used over, and over, and over again; it has been loved. Old Things intrigue me, draw me in. I want to know more about them, as if they could actually talk.

I do still enjoy New Things though. I guess it's more the fact that these things have their own journey to make; most of them already being used, worn, and loved. For example: the camera I got but only a year ago already shows the scars and scratches of use. But I love my camera; the memories it has brought me. Yes it is only a Material Thing, and I suppose this could look like I am contradicting my earlier post, but I'm not. I am simply saying that I like the feel of Old and New things, in a sense of their story, there use. Not just for the having and owning something. Nor to be obsessive with something or overly protective of a piece of plastic, metal, or wood.

Old things can be more than that, or at least that what it seems to me. And New things are just waiting to become Old things.

Everything grows Old eventually

Simple Things

Holding hands, warm chocolate chip cookies, sunny warm days with a slight breeze. Simple things are what always make my day.

Lately I have noticed that for some people simple little things don't seem to matter. Or maybe it's just that their Simple Things are different from what other's think. Like for someone a new broom or a clean desk; a diet coke or a shag carpet; smooth wood or just a smile. In all actuality, I have no idea where I'm going with this. I guess I have just noticed all of the teeny, tiny, little, simple things that make me smile inside are. So that's really all I have to say; this one will just be short and sweet. And that's another thing I like: short and sweet thoughts.

Vain

Vanity:

-noun

1) excessive pride in one's appearance, qualities, abilities, achievements, etc.; character or quality of being vain; conceit

2) something about which one is vain

3) lack of real value; hollowness; worthlessness: the vanity of a selfish life

4) something worthless, trivial, or pointless

Origin:

1200–50; ME vanite <>vānitās, equiv. to vān- (see vain ) +-itās- -ity

Synonyms:

egotism, complacency, vainglory, ostentation. See pride. 4.emptiness, sham, unreality, folly, triviality, futility.

Antonyms:

humility

Now that you know as much about Vanity as I do, I shall add on my two cents (an expression which I have never fully understood). Anywho, "Vanity" is a thing that you cannot go one single day with out stumbling across it. "Beautiful" celebrities, models, and everyday people obsess daily in front of the mirror. (Of course I too must admit to spending a bit of my time most mornings looking into my own reflection as I cover 'blemishes' and 'fix' my hair.) But why do we all do this? One of the conclusions I have come to is this . . . people care way too much what others think of them. Whether it's a pride thing (see synonyms above) or not, most everyone cares what someone else thinks whether they want to or not. And yet again I ask: WHY? Why do people care what other people think of them??? Not like it truly matters in most cases. Yes of course I do understand that it will matter in job interviews and such, yet on a regular day-to-day basis no one should give a rat's pa-tootie what some judgmental "friend" has to say about the way they look, dress, or their self-worth for that matter. And the thing is . . . if GOD made us exactly the way we are, then why do we insist on changing that just to please some earthly mold or trend. (Yet again I must admit to following fashion "trends" at risk of being horribly labeled a hypocrite. Of course we are not all perfect.)

Complements are also a Vanity-related subject. Personally, when someone tells me I'm "pretty" in the sense of looks, I either try to deflect it or just quietly accept the complement. Why you ask? I do not like to be vain. There is something about wallowing in my own self-worth that makes me want to hurl. (Lovely choice of words right?) I simply don't like it. I know when someone tells me this, it usually is a genuine complement , but I just don't really enjoy hearing it. Unlike some girls, and even guys on occasion, will either prompt the complement to receive even more look-related approvals; that or they completely deny it, saying things like, "no, I'm so ugly, and I am ssssoooo fat like ohmygosh." or "stop lying! I am not pretty at all!" Although I'm not exactly sure why some people do that, it kind of . . . pisses me off. Because they are obviously attractive if they are receiving a comment like that, so why deny it. Of course trying to get more is just plain stupid too, not to mention extremely Vain. As are mirrors.

Have you ever even thought about not using a mirror for a week? Or maybe even just a day? Probably not. The very thought of not being able to "check for imperfections" before you go out into public is like a nightmare for most. However I do know of a women, and a wonderful blessing and joy she is to know, that gave up trying to conform and follow trends; she stopped with all the makeup, the ever so expensive hair, and simply lived with out caring what people thought. And I absolutely adore her for that. So why doesn't everyone do this? Well probably the same I think of every time: we are scared to. Scared to no be able to see what we look like. Scared to not be able to "fix" ourselves. (Even though nothing was truly 'wrong' with us in the first place.) Scared of what other people will think.

I guess what I am trying to say, without ranting and rambling on for ever and ever and ever (even though I know I could), is that looks and image is not everything. Just looking the prettiest isn't everything. Just because the world says you have to be one way doesn't mean you have to. Vain. Vanity. Being yourself. Choose wisely. I know I did.

ambivalence

First of all, I strongly debated putting this up. In the end, I decided that I should. It needed to be seen my others, and I just felt a kind of force telling me that I should; so I did, obviously. From my point of view, this could mean something different for each individual who reads it; as in you will interpret it or take it differently than the next person. Or you may just not even understand it. Any who . . . here it goes:

sit and wait. tortured by the thoughts. i wonder, i dream . . . yet they're more like night-mares: twisted images race through of what might . . . what could . . . what may very well come out of this.

i worry. anxiety consumes every part of me. this new emotion masks all of my others: the happiness, the joy . . . the love. i worry, thinking of what could happen.

should i talk? should i bring it up? should i ask about it? or maybe . . . maybe i'm overreacting. it could be nothing, maybe it isn't. yet am i in denial now? trying to push this . . . this . . . "issue" away. hide it from myself as if it's only a bit of dust. turn it into nothing when it could be one of the biggest problems.

waiting . . . again . . . now that familiar numbness has overcome all. i feel indifferent now. most all emotions faded away: drowned out by the numb. i know it is still there though. drifting below the surface . . . waiting to pop out again when i'm least prepared to face it.

nightmares. the nightmares are back. wreaking destruction in my sleeping mind. yet it's different . . . there is no noise. i see the wicked dream, but no one speaks. it's all . . feeling. i feel the anxiety. i feel the worry. i feel the love, lost and wasted for not being accepted. i feel anger. i feel sorrow. and fear.

i need to tell. to ask. to know. but . . . what if it goes wrong? i'll wait; it can wait. so for now, i push all of this away, deeper than i've ever pushed anything that troubles me. and i smile: hiding this from everyone . . . even myself. hiding it from him

Listening Spirit

~I walk through the park, admiring the still green trees as well as the bold orange and red trees, turning color in the early November days.

I listen: it's quiet, yet loud; I hear the soft breeze as it wisps through the willows. I squint at the sun through the shade of an oak, it is like I can almost hear that huge day-star whispering warmth onto my skin. My bare feet make a soft padding on the old jaded sidewalk, and dulcet crunches as I move onto the leaf-scattered grass. I near the playground now: the festive shrieks of children drift to me across the early autumn air.

Singing. I hear singing now. Broken from my inner trance of thought, I turn to look for the sound. It is that of a man: he sits atop a utility box, a cane in his hand. He sings; a spontaneous song, like something I have never heard before. I recognize bits of it . . . from hymns, the rest seems to be from parts of his heart. He sings on, loudly, then softer. I sit on a swing; I listen to his song, savoring the melody that reverberates from his lungs. I close my eyes, imagining his story through what I can hear.

Now I move on, making my way through the playground, already remembering the Singing Man. I hear a beep, and then another. I turn my head slightly to look upon a business man. He sits at a bench, a good distance away from the sounds of where the children cavort. His grey and balding head tells of years of work. Yet another beep makes its way into the open, and at that point the man removes a small something from his ear and seemingly turns it off; he utters a word that would be better off not being repeated. He sits; still and thoughtful, or maybe wanting to forget his thoughts, who knows? I feel a feeling of trouble from the way he slouches, sighs.

Walking onward , I come back to the cracked sidewalk. The wind spills over me, whipping my hair every-which-way. I think; blocking out the other noises of the world. I think about the Singing Man and the Business Man, but I cannot hear; too deep in my own thoughts I seem to have fallen. I don't hear. I come to the cross-walk and walk on without looking, not realizing where I am. A car, I don't hear, therefore I never looked. Of course nobody noticed, they don't see me. And as the sun moves behind a patch of cotton-clouds, I disappear momentarily. Now I walk along again, listening, roaming here, with no one able to see me, or rather, my spirit. But I am there, listening as a spirit~

now that we're all on the same page....

"Now that we're all on the same page..."

A phrase commonly used in resolved arguments and confusing conversations. It is used when whoever is talking is now understanding the same thing, therefore they are all on the same "page". Yet a good point has been brought to my attention when I myself used that very phrase: we may both be on the same page, but maybe not the same book. We may all be on the same page but each and everyones' life is a different book.

Everyone sees things differently. And it may be that just because "we are both on page 72" it does not mean that we are looking in the same book. Some people's Life Book's are very small, maybe even Flimsy; yet there are the small Hand-backed books too. Other's are huge, fat books with quite a lot of stuff in it; of course there are, not so seldom, the big books with mainly Fluff and very few real things in them. Some people's books are the same their entire lives, while others may find the Need to Edit theirs on a "regular" basis.

Now of course it is not a bad thing if your Book is big or small; what matters is what you have in it. What is in your book? Morals? Life Lessons? Tips? Memories?

Everyone's book is completely, totally, and wonderfully unique. And that, my dear friend, is how GOD intended it to be. He was, and is, the One who wrote, and is helping us to write, out Books. And because GOD made each and everyone one of use different and unique in our own way, all of our books will and are very different.

So even if we are all on page 13 of our Life Books, we all see the very same situation a bit differently from the next person would.

Just as GOD intended.

So God created man in his own image,

in the image of God he created him;

male and female he created them.

God blessed them and said to them, "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground."

Then God said, "I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds of the air and all the creatures that move on the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food." And it was so.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good

Genesis 1:27-31

Idea credit to Noel Kennon