The biggest challenge of writing is not necessarily the exercise of crafting words and paragraphs and a flow that is pleasing and engaging. The hard part is the ideas. Because to write something, there is a sense of permanence that does not exist with spoken words. When you write something there is a feeling of finality, that you have made up your mind, at least enough to mark it in a way where others will read it and know your thoughts, at least the ones you’ve chosen to share.
That appeals to me because, as someone who has struggled with feelings of loneliness throughout my life, sharing my thoughts, even with a stranger, is an act that brings me closer to other human beings in this world, and makes me feel less alone.
This also terrifies me, because I am the type of person who thinks deeply about topics and likes to look at topics from different perspectives and angles. Even on topics that I am fairly certain I understand well enough to write about, there is always a small voice in my head that tells me, I could be completely wrong. Continue reading →
If I cannot think myself out
Of this prison
I can write myself out
Is a bright light
And a gentle knowing
That when left to drift gently
Will act as a guide
Today I was reflecting on my trip to California, and I was thinking about how beautiful the west coast was — and so easy to see and find the beauty — the mountains and nature and ocean were all around us. Here in Memphis it can be harder to see. I noticed how beautiful the clouds and sky are here– big fluffy whipped cream kind of clouds. I looked up and noticed how beautiful the trees are — we are literally living where a forest once lived, and pieces of the forest still survive today. I was thinking about how important it is to see beauty, because beauty — and I say beauty, not just attractiveness or aesthetically pleasing design — beauty, itself, is a physical representation of Joy. A retail store and parking lot might be ugly and grey and depressing — but inside, the cashiers, the customers, are living, breathing, beautiful souls. In their hopes and dreams and laughs and kindness there can be so much joy. And even in Memphis, which is so scarred with trauma and tragedy and violence, there is still joy pushing up through the cracks. I want to get better at seeing beauty and seeing joy. I want to get better at looking past the grey, and seeing what is there, pushing up through the pavement, struggling to thrive, struggling to look into the sun, struggling to turn the grey and brown into green, into red and gold and purple and blue. That is why writing is important for me. It helps me to see. It helps me to notice. It helps me to push back against the laziness of just taking in the noise and the grime and the cement, and see instead the traces of life that are thriving in spite of being bullied and poisoned every day.
For the faithful few who still check my blog, you may have noticed that I have not been very consistent in posting recently. I have struggled with posting consistently mainly because I no longer have a clear vision in mind as to what the purpose of my blog should be. My blog began as a travel blog, a means of communicating to others my travels and experiences and my growth during my time spent abroad.
Now that I am back in Bellingham, and perhaps just a bit less transient, I’m not sure exactly what the purpose of my blog is. A periodic personal journal? A place for theological or philosophical musings? A place to post noteworthy events? Continue reading →
My purpose in writing this blog is more selfish than anything. I want to clarify my thoughts. I want to get into the practice of putting words to paper and displaying my poetry in a place where it can (in theory) be read by others. I want to continue to remind myself of what I really believe is true in the deepest parts of my soul and to live from that conviction, to remind myself so that I don’t become distracted in the daily monotony of life. Continue reading →