December baby

sister don't believe yourself that way
because trust me one sweet day you will find your crown again.
dont let yourself
wear so thin
you are so wanted.
but unless you rise
you will not begin.
and i know you are awake but you like to pretend
to be asleep in hopes that maybe soon
you'll convince yourself
that nothing lies ahead.
but baby you have this anchor of hope
that will not leave you
sitting dead.
don't want to be dead
dont believe yourself that way

lost and found and don't look down

the future is untouchable because once we arrive to it, it will no longer be the future. it will be the present. it will be a present. so why do we invite the future to wrap its hands around our wrists, making us its puppets, hating it letting it begging it wanting it. affair.
i have been learning that we grow when we're not looking. and our thoughts do not always only bounce, some days they build houses or walls or bridges and do we decide which? some days i think we do.
once again i will say
how beautiful this all is.
a what a gift, what a fragile place, to be in love with the sheer notion of
living.
and i think of how much has changed and how much has been lost and found and i know in my bones that i wouldn't have it any other way.
and realising that if one man had not looked at one woman in that one corner of the world on that one day, they would have never had a child and that child would have never grown older and never met another grown child, and those two grown children would have never fallen into life together and they would have never had a you.
damn.

if you are too afraid to change the world, you never will.

a sister of mine told me saturday that changing one life is changing the world. and that i have done it and she has and that we were together right in that moment.
something enchanting to me about talking around a kitchen table with beautiful humans who are no longer orphans and who know that. 
it's an underground railroad type of living that we do, where we love so much that it may be a secret because we do not know any words to articulate
the depths.
something enchanting about going home and understanding that you never truly left. because pieces of everywhere you have been and everyone you have loved linger like jewel dust on your skin and scent. and those places and people carry in them, pieces, of, you.
good thing you are so much.

Harvest

sometimes i treat god like a dusty overdue library book. yeah what a great read, i feel better now, i'll put it away since i'm done and deal with that later.find it in the closet, look over it some more, and then become thoroughly distracted by life and things.
sometimes i treat God like santa claus on christmas eve. 'God, i am going to sleep now, please when i wake up make everything i want be the way i want it to be and maybe with snow thanks.'
wake up, stand up, brush up, grow up. born and off to the races.
this is a fragile age and often a fear stirs in me that perhaps i will be just awful at being 18 or 25 or 50 or older, and that here and now it as good as it will ever get, but haven't we all thought that before?
and looking back, can we travel to peace by the understanding that everything that has been has led to what is now and everything about today is going to lead to an abundance of somedays and that Cannot embitter us because we have no reason to believe that those somedays hold anything but glory.

peace drops like a bomb every once again, just going about my business and then this remarkably powerful thing falls from nowhere and everything is different because of it.



thinking of storing this golden autumn air in some jars. we are breathing time capsules.

nonfat no whip triple grande hot cold lip burning newspaper folds, youve gotta find prospects, make cuts, make war

we are a nation of cufflinks and newsprint.
we love when our husbands lose weight.
we complain about the weather because it's the only thing
we can't vote on.
how can i be honest without tossing rocks at lady liberty

when children get taller, they dress in grown up clothes and stomp around in big shoes to make something of themselves because all of a sudden they have to make the world work.

we hide grey hair.
we look down upon youth because ignorance is bliss
is bliss
is bliss
is bliss.
our storybooks are called the evening news where the princes trip on stones and the kingdom catches fire and we clap and sing because we never ever knew that we would be here.

i used to think my mother was born as a grown up and that kids stayed kids and grown ups stayed grown ups and olds stayed olds.
if only.
but there is something beautiful about every harvest of a generation inevitably rises from their desks and shimmies out of their graduation gowns and stops putting sugar in their coffee because we all want to make changes
we all want better and more for ourselves and each other and there is no flaw in that
but i still fancy the notion of skipping all this nonsense
and joining the circus

Be in my Eyes be In my Heart

dizzy because life is just so much. two years ago my hair was about six inches shorter and my life was about as many millions of degrees different as a life can be. from this i choose to not settle in sorrow, but to have hope. because in only two years absolutely everything has been turned every way for every reason and through pain and change there has been monumental growth and becoming.
today i am learning fidelity and abandon.
tomorrow i will learn.
every day
every second i will learn.
what will be your story now?

i will tell you something almost every day i decide to go to bed early tonight. seclude myself, away from films and friends and fields and just go to sleep because to wake up you have to sleep first. it never happens.  it never happens. it takes hours to get around to falling asleep because there is always so much else that demands attention and time, but i think that it will be a good idea to decide to have free time. jesus doesn't say come to me and i will give you a to do list, he says come to me and i will give you Rest.
advice from a tree suggests letting your roots grow down deep, and i suggest not over thinking the whole roots situation because we all have them every thing has them but much of their strength comes from the sheer fact that they are hidden they are deep within soil and foundation that it would take destruction and effort to see or destroy them.
i pray that we can all stop living
with this constant mindset of need and desperation
and realise
that we are loved and breathing and everything
is going to be alright.

i apologize insincerely if my words are repetitive. motifs of the heart.

beautiful that us in our ingenious youth know the entire world and everything that will ever happen front forwards and back but we dont even know what the morning will bring. plan to make a plan to make a plan to make something of yourself. But darling, you are Already something. You are so much something, and you are some one's Someone, SOmeday some how some where some way, you will see and understand why all this why because to soon to delay to only stay, just stay ,
i say.

The Ruffian

whether i am kissing the lips of a boy or the rim of a coffee cup i want it to be honestly and out of love.

Circa Aug. 25

it is never fair
to love a gypsy.
And this room sings into the quiet of my mind
finally.
i'm trusting.
some Change is an 'accident;.
some change comes in the mail or
via phone.
other change is chosen.
And in this second I am
choosing

to change my eyes
towards the changes.
it is here so I will have It.
here is this n[e][o]w.
air, feeling, face, season, reason,
drenched in divine Jesus ink.
covered in his fingerprints
faithful

Martha

sometimes you wake up and you don't know where you are. in the night a shabby gypsy train came to your window and stole you and shipped you across the Ocean to california. the Long way. and everything looks so familiar but feels so foreign, that you cannot seem to determine whether it is your body, or your heart- that has shifted.
one may call it a soul vacation, to live and change and not understand completely where you have been but to know that today, for whatever reason, has healed you somewhere somehow. even if just for a moment and even if just a little.

how extraordinary and how grateful i am for the hearts in us that have the capacity to notice the absence of places feelings things and people. to miss and to long for, to have those abilities is a miracle, i feel.
but then again i feel too much.

when your lungs fill with concern and all of the watches are broken, we are brought to that familiar peculiar fragility of life once again. should we pray to be enchanted? should we pray for something so heart shatteringly fleeting? now, is that righteous?
i don't believe that we will ever read enough books or take enough pictures. we will never be done listening and not listening to the wisdom of our mothers. never will we forget some things that we should never have had to remember and at once we will never remember as much as we desire to.
in effort to be and know grace, we must realise that our striving is brought to a screeching halt in it's presence. as mercy pours into our lives, these aches we cling to- the ones of knowing the expectations that we will always never meet- they are swallowed in the sea of salvation.
and at once, she with the violet name,
locks eyes with the S(u)[o]n
and every bruise is laid bare to burning
a discomfort which must be endured
because discipline is so deeply derived from a love
so deeply designed.
and she stands healed and whole.
 and it is time to leave the desert.

Go, live well,
live blessed.

peaches

i want to challenge myself as a person, break habits and build skills. do things on purpose with intention, even if the reason is just because. quiet the thoughts within that have been begging me to focus on all my weaknesses, physically, spiritually, mentally, creatively. Jesus did not create us fearfully and wonderfully so that we can sit around fearful and worrying.
be joyful always.
but what a challenge that is, almost more so when everyone expects it of you. i pray for my roots to be established in love but truly i'm not so sure what that even means. and every human gets sick with feelings, they drive us and we let them.
i want to
sit and stare at trees until
i understand anything.
and seek solitude with my creator
until i trust that some things
are not for me to understand.
satan attacks our self image and our daily concerns because he does not want us to See the beauty and detail with which God has so divinely designed us. the enemy desires our attention to be absolutely anywhere but after the heart of jesus. God promises to provide and seek us, and is constantly doing so but we are often distracted from his faithfulness when Small fragments of worry shattering pieces of our peaces.
don't let circumstances hinder your joy.
our hearts are created with eternal intentions, kingdom bound. this is what makes it so difficult to understand why and how to handle things ending and changing.

i understand that if anyone who reads these words does not know Jesus personally, that everything here will be absolutely meaningless and unresolved.
that's been on my heart as well, because i struggle with doubt more than anything else spiritually.
but i am always always brought back to that place on broken humble knees
with a bare heart and open eyes and i just remember and realise
that nothing is worth it without jesus.

some days it take effort to make life beautiful or to see the beauty in it. this past week my the light in my eyes has been someone dim but it is never too late nor too early to choose joy.

the Woods

when nothing matters except the map on the wal
and this fragile magic of a time has got you
singing in your sleep
laughing at the morning sun.


where even words words ever have you been where
haven't lost it
we do not lose ourselves, we only lose focus


love never dies, it only changes faces

The Dead Sea

this is such a fragile time.
and we can embrace it with fear or choose to respond with trust.
When change is as thick as the heat in the august air we are led to sit in the center of our father's hands. looking up at him with pleading curiosity because we, as humans, so desperately desire to know the next step the next bit of dialogue the next catastrophe and miracle. We look up into the presence of Jesus, eyes laden with innocence and maybe a sparkle of fear.
the truth is that it is extraordinarily terrifying that we do not know what is next.
the past few days or so satan has been tempting me to be afraid because as so many new choices and feelings and obligations approach, we become vulnerable to the devil's tools; anxiety, worry, doubt, wounded confidence, and ,, fear.

But here i ask jesus to wake me up in every way of the word, every way possible, that he lead me down every endless route of awakening. because we are no longer slaves to satan's fantasies. Fear is a deadly poison but it's power has been made completely obsolete by the blood of Jesus Christ.
i choose you, i choose joy

yes, part of our earthly journey is meeting spiritual obstacles and overcoming satan's attacks, these things cannot be avoided. however they can be detected and brought to a screeching halt with the sound of holy His name. be on guard.
the light God pours into us, radiates externally as joy, love, peace of mind, goodness, purity, honesty, and hope. Satan hates when these qualities are exposed to the world because he is absolutely terrified of their power. the enemy cringes in fear at the power alive underneath your skin.
you have authority. as children of the king, we must not allow fear and anxiety to enslave us.
this is only possible by hiding in our heart the truth of who we are, where we came from, and where we are going. -chosen. from Him. to Him. - His. his hands. his kingdom.

you are important.

wake up to the sound, of your fleeting heart

i am beginning to believe that we are born to wake up
and those of us who fail to do so
will simply fall into a most certain death
not a physical death so much as
a life death.
an emptiness and
it is heart shattering to hold dear lives that hold to nothing.
sometimes the devil weaves lies into our minds over the course of a day or a week or a summer.
sometimes he shoots them at us from a demon machine gun,
wounding us right wherever we are most vulnerable.
but sometimes,
perhaps the worst times,
he tackles two year old cities and in them he takes goodness and makes it an idol
he takes lust and makes it a practice
he takes truth and makes it a ration,
because all his power witholds is a little room for alterations.
he cannot steal joy
satan cannot steal faith.
And often times we are stripped and stolen of all else so that we will finally
see
that nothing else is as real nor as mandatory
to live these awake sort of lives.

a storm is stirring in the kingdom
and the children sing here on their knees
the demons fret and fear and flee
and holy hands search for the king. 

it's not just cowboys and indians

tonight was ablaze with intention and divine appointment. tulsa is such a handful of radiance, bustle, and chosen youth.
ya know when you are near someone and the purpose for their life just radiates and they can't even understand because that beautiful oblivion of humility has capsized them,,
that is what tonight was
and tonight made sense.

xxx

Amsterdam is beautiful the way that an old storybook is beautiful.
it is beautiful in the way of a torn tattered sweater.
It is at once believing people still need shoes of wood
and homes of cheese
whilst mistaking cannabis for joy
and sex for truth.

emptiness is with me and my heart is bare
Here,
at the end of the day
i am a train station full of shattered philosophies
an undiscovered annex of light
i am a native, a meddler, an artist
i amsterdam

Life is painting a picture, not adding a sum

these past few weeks have been really hard and the hardest thing i have come to learn is that it is the pursuit of moments which plagues their worth. you cannot, you simply cannot and should not go hunting for moments. little memories, instances stop treating them like easter eggs and start treating them like shooting stars.
there is no quota, no ratio expected of moments to nonmoments.
manufactured moments can be special but there is only so much that can be obtained from them. because if half of their substance was intentional or expected then that only leaves one half of the moment to have been truly captivating and remarkable.
i am learning this among much else
about
moments.

i am learning to step out of my own head every here and there and so and almost zoom the perspective away from the sounds and steps to just really see. and look around, take a quick tour of this happenstance of history before it flits away into what has been.

similar to butterflies, we chase moments because they are pretty because they are desirable. when we have them we can tell people all about it, however when we chase them and catch them there is little to do next aside from release them (either immediately or at a later time).
But when we forget to chase the butterflies- when we are still conscious of their prescense but no longer rabid for their company, and one gracefully steps into place on our shoulders or toes, we notice it and love and get swept up in it before it flies away to the it's next fortunate subject.

so do not chase the butterflies let them come when they will.
and do not live in waiting for them, that will only lead to longing when they go.
trust that they will come and have them when they do and love them when theyre gone and collect whatever beauty they leave you with. 

stay foolish

you are a symphony. as you sleep, the earth anticipates your waking. it misses your laugh and your light. You are a masterpiece. when you speak, the children of the world cling to your words. they reach to catch them as they sail through the wild air. who do you belong to? who taught you to be? You are a sacred sister of the sea. you are a monument of peace. oh, you

happenstance

words shake loose from the ends of my wild hair, creation bleeds from my fingertips onto canvas. today was a subtle symphony, i'm learning moments. Momentology. to notice, catch, revel in. when face to face with a moment we cannot allow our eyes to be eyes of longing or dependence, because under such constraint said moment will flee for the hills.
similar to books and thanksgiving food, when moments begin, we are aware that they will also end. we just would rather not think about that part.
There was a moment today, i was on my way to visit my best friend who is home from her vagabond gypsy life and i was sitting in the car and the sun broke through the window glass and danced across the silver bracelet wrapped around my wrist. the car turned and the sunlight spread like a wild fire across my dashboard, bringing back to life a thin layer of wishing dust that has settled down there. In that moment was every summer color, the sound of tires on gravel the sound of a banjo through the speakers, the sound of beads swaying under the mirror, hitting each other softly creating the shyest relative of percussion. the moment had rhythm and it had hope, hope because until today i had not seen my gypsy for months and now i was going to within a matter of minutes. nothing like that feeling.

many moments absolutely wear the pants in the relationship, they leave before we're ready, they dont even give us a CHANCE to speak to them, they do all the speaking. and i don't know about you but they leave me starving, often nearly empty, for more. they leave me sitting speechless, they paint in my eyes a desperate shade of reverence and something close to need. i need that again i need that adrenaline, that sweet natural ecstasy concocted of colors sounds shapes and circumstances.
more.
come back.

but if life was only moments then you'd never know you had one

♕ ♚ ♛

as i throw another rock in your ocean, as i sit here as i revere as i forget to fear, there is change in the thunder and blood in the water and one by one little bricks fall gracefully from their big tall walls.
Without their height walls are defenseless.

today the eyes of my heart opened to a sweet realisation. it was similar to being asleep and waking up to the sun screaming into your window. It takes a second or two for your eyes to adjust to the brilliance and really understand this new piece of truth.
it occured to me by the grace of God that in regard to Satan's attacks, we can respond with rejoice in the plans our savior has for us. We can rejoice that his plans are SO important, so extraordinary that they provoke Satan into trying absolutely anything he can to tear them down or hold them back.
big stuff.

lately ive been struggling to balance holding dear the hope of the future but not lusting after it, not longing for or chasing someday. Because someday's time will come and this day, this time here, has done nothing to deserve neglect.

i am learning that no one no thing no place no taste no sound no friend no event can fulfill the way the peace of a savior can. Nothing else is worth it, truly nothing else is worth such energy and i have been recklessly chasing any sweet rebellion that catches my eye. And it is exhausting to an unearthly extent to chase all of this wind  and i want to be done.
"Entering into his fullness is not something you figure out or achieve . it's not a matter of being circumcised or keeping a long list of laws. No, you're already in. not through some secretive initiation rite, but rather through what Christ has already gone through for you, destroying the power of sin"colossians 2:11-14

Grab your pens and pillows

you rub your face and bite your lip and remind yourself of the ways things are and remind yourself that this is how they should be. dancing on that desert sand between what is real and what isn't, the motives that lie beneath every word hold the true daggers. not the words themselves, the words themselves are enslaved by the lips of envy.
if we were each to say everything in truth the world would be a healthier one.

today i was blessed with being able to talk to a very good old friend, he told me that he is learning that everyone is crazy and that it takes all types of people to run the world. I thought that first part was beautiful, ive been holding it up to my minds eye since then; every one is crazy. everyone is.

it is also crazy that we expect to be able to hold the sweet present in our calloused hands and expect it to grow and flourish whilst we reminisce to it of the past's glory. Oh dear present, hi remember how things used to be, remember that beauty, oh you don't you weren't there anyways it was really lovely , present, the past was really lovely. the present doesnt speak so as not to offend but deep in it's inner soul it knows that it is capable of being just as lovely. more so. more beautiful and more worthy than anything about the past. the present hungers for the opportunity. let be me, it whispers. it won't force itself unto us. none the less, if there may be any understanding or ambition within us i see it as our duty to satisfy that which the present hungers for. take this day by it's steady hand and not enslave it or allow it to enslave us but walk with it show it what we know and let it do the same. And how could we begin to do that if we won't stop craning our necks, trying to catch the last glimpse of yesterday

c o l d w a r

awake o sleeper
o wandered arise
back from rehab,
with gold in your eyes,
sick sweet beats
&
coffee laced goodbyes
a symphony, an orchestra
i hear across the sea.
we have nothing to lose
cause love is here
and time is free

won't cut my hair til the good lord comes

love is real, salvation is true.
truth is real, i've heard it's voice. I've seen it dance and followed it's footsteps.
darkness is real, truth taught me so.
Truth whispered to me through that darkness that light is real.
Light is real, i've seen it face to face.
freedom is a real thing, lots of things disguise themselves as freedom but they are not. You will know if what you have is real freedom because even when something happens that should steal your freedom or puncture it, the Freedom won't go away or be wounded
because it is real.

how great is the power of being real, the power of sincere existence.

Change is a real thing, but it seems to only be a child in the hands of circumstance. And circumstance is simply an ordained instance amidst one's journey or path..
We should not fear change, simply because we should not fear.
because we have been shown perfect love.
and perfect love does not let fear exist.

the truth told me that as well

Anthem

Life is
the mess in my hair it is the coffee, on my breath,
and im finding as im growing that life is
this divine hunger to speak honest words and know honest humans.
We all have been called names and we have called names, and im realising that there is so so
much more than the brutal arrogance ,than the smell of marijuana in the room, than crushed beer cans than what time it is. There is more than the price of gasoline and than blind assumption.
ive noticed that we each tend to leave pieces inevitably perhaps intentionally perhaps subconsciously intentionally.
ie, tonight i left my coffee cup in the wright car and chance has my book in his to read stack, i have the caveman sticker chance gave me on the back of my htc. jordan has my sweater now and i have kyle's t shirt.
tonight feels like a circus and i am recklessly gracefully slipping into this romance with life itself. truly, i am deeply
bound
it seems
this beauty has my attention
it's creator , my creator, has me in his great hands. im following my heart here as my heart follows the truth and the truth is leading to so much than any other road could not even begin to take me.

apologies for the way these words read so unstably, so rigid. i am having a great trouble articulating such love that has been poured into these current skies and settings.
i wont be naive in believing that youth is anything other than fleeting.
but at once , i will neither submit to the chains that tell me Youth is not most certainly
captivating.
though gold cannot stay, it must go somewhere, does it waltz in and out of our lives or does it fade in each of us at different speeds under different circumstances.
wow whoa well.
let's just listen, you speak to my open ears,
we just love in these fragile
years.



dancing on the cliffs

lie for awhile with your ear against the earth

sense is attractive. It has that poised, self defining characteristic, it needs no explanation, for all it is is clear. definite. There are lines, and a grid of protocols and passage ways. You check in at the desk of solidity and there is no fog in the air, no dust in your eyes.
Nonsense, however, is located on the catastrophic foundation of feeling.
of ideas. of possibilities and perhaps'. There are no rules in nonsense, which is both beautiful and devastating. nonsense has no titles, no plans, no barricades. Only bridges and seas and wind. lots of wind.


your hair is long, but not long enough to reach, home to me

because the wound there is so fresh

the subtle scars lying between health and unhealth, between what you have always known you never wanted and what you could never want less.
these scars dictate, they
in a sense
pave our decisions our emotions- the few that are invited, their chords we dawn by choice not defenselessness.
we have these little wounds, these traintracks between what we have seen and known and what we may or may not choose to revisit.
at first glance they appear hazy, some memories- yes wretched bloody comely sweet memories all welded together like cold steel unlawfully driven into the lining of the safe walls of our fragile choices.
You pray for opportunity when you're stepping on the golden one as these words are being written.
you wish for a resolution, one both fair and futile. a resolution of such a peculiar nature that it would only be fitting granted unto one or say two equivalently peculiar victims of circumstance.



drifting through the fog barefoot and blinded and something cold you feel beneath the dust. a silver line. a silver line amidst an assembly of identical silver lines, train tracks train tracks train tracks train tracks train tracks. no train of course because that would be too humorous, too common to fit this odd chapter of the wanderer's existence. the tracks extend for miles, for months. you follow them, careful to walk beside and not on top of for each track seems to be offering some treasure of its own.
one whispers to you of the manner in which it's hair unceasingly interrupts.
another shares a photograph of a parking lot being rewritten in fresh fallen snow.
the 28th track down the line is humming a song, cant you seem im trying i dont even like it i just lied to get to your apartment. as a track, it is vocally ill-equipped and fails terribly to succeed in the correct expression of each individual note, strum, drum beat.
but you keep walking, staring at the tracks and as you do so you fail to recognize a heavy nothingness lingering in the N E A R D I S T A N C E.
you at last reach the very last track. you hear silence and see nothing and lean in close in case there is a photograph of bit of wisdom or torn letter stuck nearby. no. however something does catch your wild eye On the track. letters., hidden, dusty, in black ink, book antiqua font.
With a ready hand you brush the dust off and meet, eye to eye, a small word painted purposefully on that fateful last track. it eloquently reads,: Fuck.

perplexed, you stand and look around you. Where you have been where you have become to be when you have walked yourself with no one forcing you, No one telling you THIS WAY, you walked there. on your own. willingly. intrigued, conflicted, restless and real.
it begins to rain and all the dust soaks into the ground , small pieces of water rest on the tracks and slide down each revealing its own polished scar. an evanescent petrichor is present and fades, leaving you alone with the line of glimmering train tracks train tracks and that fateful nothingness patiently waiting a near distance away.
the nothingness clears its foggy throat and speaks to you, it says, finally, we meet, ive waited. My name is denouement, kind you. please, feel free, feel freely to paint me. for i am what you choose me to be.

the desert road

Throw your clocks back to about 62 A.D., because i have something amazing to tell you.
Once there was this apostle named Philip. An angel of God himself visited Philip and told him he needed to go south of Jerusalem to another city called Gaza.
while on his way, Philip met an important leader of the Ethiopian queen's treasury. the Ethiopian had just come from Jerusalem where he had gone to worship and was now 'reading' the book of the Bible that we now know as Isaiah.
Philip went towards the man, as he was instructed to do by the spirit, and he asked the Ethiopian if he knew what he was reading.
this is strange considering that typically when we see someone reading, we assume they know and can understand the text in their hands. Of course they can read or they wouldn't be..reading..
WRONG-,
"How can i," the Ethiopian told Philip,"unless someone explains it to me?"(acts 8:31)
He proceeded to ask Philip to sit with him and explain what he could not himself interpret. it was a particular passage of scripture that told of the way Jesus was led as a sheep to the slaughter, silent and treated unfairly. The Ethiopian man was so deeply intrigued, one magnificent obsession a great resurrection under his skin led him to plead to Philip to please tell him who this scripture was about.
How could he know?
Philip told him "the good news is about Jesus"(8:34)
The walked together, came across water and philip assisted the ethiopian in baptised. Once the Ethiopian rose from the water, Phillip was suddenly taken away elsewhere by the spirit of God. the Ethiopian never say him again. but he didn't need to.
"When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord suddenly took philip away, and the eunuch (ethiopian from the upper nile region) did not see him again, but went on his way rejoicing." Rejoicing. The ethiopian had at last found his savior, all that had been in his wato y was worldly inability. See the way that didn't matter, how Philip was LED to speak to this man, to lead him, be a bridge of sorts to the Ultimate bridge to salvation: Jesus.
The Ethiopian, he simply didn't know. He simply couldn't read.
In certain parts of the world today less than 50% of the people are literate. leaving half that are not.
i find it beautiful that God does not allow minor worldly hindrances to interfere with his will nor with the calling of his chosen people. that with the gifts he pours unto us, (for example:literacy), he enables us to pour gifts unto others. he floods us with goodness to the point of overflow, so that the world may share in this sweet salvation.
He promises that whatever we ask for in prayer is OURS. suppose we each requested to be used, to be sent, to be restored to complete potential as a glorious instrument and servant of Jesus. i assure you, Our father is hungry to be invited into your life and Hungry to equip you with means to perform his glory.
promise.

the people here dont walk.
they sit in big machines.
and talk to little machines.
and almost every one has parents.
manerica, annishalty.
the people here like sitting
they like to hear other people say the things
that they wish they could say.
we like to have.

albeit

the most common lifestyle on this earth is not any such upper middle class. it is not poverty, albeit that is greatly vast. it is not romantic bohemia, it is not wealth nor venture nor disease, famine, communism, nor any other form of government or lack there of. the most common lifestyle in the world is oblivion. oblivion the great, the heavy, underlying overlying, cloud. the subscript of all opinion, statement and idea.
anyone that knows anything also doesn't know something else. that could be of equal, greater, or lesser significance.
this planet is so flawed, so wounded, and the fact that we've become comfortable with that truth just digs the knife in deeper. if you are completely okay with the way the World is, right this second-
there is something wrong with you.

i see now how guilty i am of this selfishness, blindness, and great oblivion to the way my brothers and sisters are living.
There are human beings existing in chains, they are being in bondage, living-if you can call it that- under so much constraint so much restriction for reasons that are not even their fault. know that, be aware. here on Earth there are endless things to learn and realise. We are constantly being provided with new situations to be concerned about, or things to donate and support. it's overwhelming, i know.
a friend recently told me that getting outside of ourselves, simply stepping out of our own way and routine in order to help or care for someone else is where life truly beings. We can find the truth within ourselves, but it is our duty to share it with others outside of ourselves.



'the people who are crazy enough to change the world are the ones that usually do'