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