I've been thinking about my dreams, laying them all out.

Fear keeps hitting me, jamming darkness down into my heart.








Lately, I've realized that fear only has as much power as you give it.

The Journey Continues.

It's almost as if life's drafted us this map for how perfect we are supposed to be: how aligned and exact all of our decisions, choices, and philanthropies are to be. Our life choices are supposed to define us, but how often to they really define our own success, in comparison to worldly success?

Wrapped up in worry and fear, many of my life choices have been made to please others. Odd enough, most of said choices have caused greater worries and greater fears. Exhaustion builds up just to please a substance of worldly pleasure, a being upon the Earth we don't even understand or comprehend: something we can't see, but is ruled by our own hearts.

The harder we fight for something we don't even understand, the stronger it becomes within our hearts. A fortress that encloses our feelings. It isn't made up of substance, but filled with our own anguish, our own kind of peace, our own kind of pride. The walls are a foundation for hiding our own insecurities.

So, when does it begin? When do we fail to build up walls around our joys, happiness, pure prides and love? When do we forget that it's important to protect what is good? Does innocence hold captive these beauties, and fall to the rocks Earth throws at its baseboards and foundations?

I think that as children we grow up believing everything is pure and right and that there is no such thing as anguish, anxiety, and unforgiveness. Somewhere along the road, we learn that not everything is as perfect as it should be, that we can't fix everything, and that not everyone can fix us when our happiness breaks. We build up walls to prove and to protect ourselves. We see things in black and white....the colour drains.
I have walked this road. I have felt the fear that chills up my back when I least expect it. I have cried. I have wined. I have known the feeling of lost hope.
The walls that guarded my deepest emotions snapped: innocence shattered.
And yet, we must keep moving.

If there is anything I've learned over these past few years, it's that we cannot dwell on the shattered innocence. The glass was beautiful and even mesmerizing, but, it was for a time. It's not going to be the same if we try and glue the pieces back together and redraw them up to protect ourselves. People see through that crap, for it's not whole & not as beautiful as it once was.

I'm on that part of the journey where I see that we build new walls up to protect what we presently know and feel. If something has already wrecked my worldview and is clinging to my passions, I don't want it ripping them apart.. .. . ripping me apart.

We use faith, don't we? We use the perfect idealities of what we believe.... to protect the uncertainties of what we believe.

There are about a billion and one things I will never tell anyone until I know I can trust them 100%.

I am full of stories, all nonfiction.
I see many stars, all a different kind of beauty.
I think many thoughts, that barely three people ever get to hear.

I am a generous lover.
I am a cautious speaker.

Sometimes days suck & you can't move past that.

My day sucked.

But I'm still smiling. I still enjoyed the sunshine.

I still chose to persist in trying to feel an ounce of happiness.

Even when the going gets tough . . . you still keep going.

If one can so easily hide behind such a facade, I believe that one is not completely innocent. We hide behind facades to avoid, to estrange from world views: void some and create new ones.

I saw a glimpse of you , or a part of the shadow of you, by the wall from which you hide behind.

Everyone who has seen darkness can create a facade; it's like a shield from that darkness, is it not ?

The problem is how fastened you are to the facade: how fixated you are upon creating the facade for looks. You are beginning to forget what the purpose of the facade was for . . . or remembering why, once more ?

If you are remembering, perhaps that is why I saw part of you-- the real you.

The real you that is detrimental to your guarded self.

I fear you will have to make the decision soon.

Will you choose to be the real you, or the distracted self?

I fear you've lost yourself. No one told you that darkness is nasty, but it is a part of life. That you can allow the beauty to blossom out of it. Beauty. The beauty of love is capable of destroying darkness.

I fear you are disallowing yourself to experience love, and it is on the verge of ruining you.

Don't dig that grave, please.

Please, find love and embrace yourself.

Please.

So I was sitting in a coffee shop & someone behind me was talking to the barista . . . I could have sworn it was Donald Sutherland speaking with a Canadian accent. Needless to say, my hopes were shattered. Why would Donald Sutherland be in this town & why would he want to speak in a Canadian accent, anyways. :( I am probably going crazy.

Two more finals to go !

studystudystudy

I just don't have the energy to associate myself with negative energy anymore. It's too much.
I don't know how I ever did it before.

I think I lost my rose-coloured glasses. I see things for as they are now.

I'm tired of wasting my time.

I want to use more I statements and live in the now and accept reality for what it is; that doesn't mean I have to associate myself with negativity.

Why spend time in the city idling in old air, when there is fresh air on the mountains to breathe in?

I pride myself in worshiping a King who has kept me from the thieves of the night, the monsters of the woods, and the Goliaths of the mountains.

Scripture

That's so we'll quit asking questions and simply worship in holy fear.

Whatever was, is.
Whatever will be, is.
That's how it always is with God.

I'm thanking God, who makes things right.
I'm singing the fame of heaven-high God.

-Ecclesiastes 3 & Psalm 7 

What Does Love Feel Like?

Love is the feeling you get when you slide into a moment remembering an old moment.

I found myself looking into an old me, naïve, innocent, & probably a little selfish. It was a warm night and my eyes were glued to a summer sky. The constellations amaze me. I have always considered the sky, both night and day, to be part of God's iris: his eyes. In that moment on that night I found myself asking why certain things have happened. I am sure that I let a tear drop, for I am not oft without tears. And in that moment a love found and a love lost no longer gave me anger or remorse or fear. Staring into the deep night sky gave me peace in a silent prayer, and there I told myself to never forget that moment.

Relapse and I have found myself thinking about that moment of peace today. 

It was of peace... Serenity... And... True love.

That feeling the heavens subsided over me was the feeling of love. And no physical being had to be next to me in order for me to feel that... Peaceful love. 

i believe the more times you say something could be true, the more power you give it to become true.

Feeling Sad and Nostalgic.

Lost love is something I will probably never be able to fathom, though it is what it is.

I suppose we are all caught up in the misconceptions of our own thoughts, ideas, and wishes. We implement our expectations into any possible scenario, until we drive the foreseen fault out of the way. I've articulated this art so well into my daily life. It's not healthy by any means, but I didn't actually realize that I was doing it.

English?

We build up our own thought-processes so much so, that we expect these expectations to be met by everyone. Idealities. Our own ideal world should be what everyone else is trying to create/add to.

When in fact, this should not be so.

I'm learning to suspend my personal frame of reference.

It's difficult and acquires a disciplined, unbiased, character that is by no means stubborn.

Trust me. This isn't pushing my boundaries. This is poking, probing, and stabbing them outwards, like nails to a chalk board.

So oft, I like to offer my opinion and push for it to be the right one.

Like I said, these may be norms, but they are not at all healthy to a self-actualized lifestyle.

I used to think I had met self-actualization in high school. I had everything planned out, I was rather content, for what it was worth. Looking back maybe I was, but I was missing out on so much of the world at that time. I've journeyed deep into the world since then, and what I've learned is that perhaps self-actualization is impossible to achieve. Ideally, we should not have a personal frame of reference, but an omniscient frame of reference, that allocates clear, perfect, critical thinking at all times. We could reach goals and move mountains if we operated without our opinions gluing us down to the ground. Ultimately, we would know what it means to be completely happy.

I don't know how to end this blogpost; probably, because I don't know how to implement such a frame of reference. That is the journey: to reach self-actualization, we must have no opinions, just a perfect understanding of everything.

The wind is beautiful today. He is whispering sweet nothings into the worlds' ears. The wind is warm. The leaves are still crisp, if any are left. We are caught in a small winter, but it is winter. The air should be cold, but it is not. The wind is savoured by it's crisp notes that envelope the warm, warm air.

If I could be anything but me today, or at least this morning, I would want to be the wind because he is travelling at a fine temperature, at a fine speed, at a fine time.

Each story is like a river. There are many different waves and ripples and creatures that subside within, but every single river is made up of water. That is what it comes down to.

Maybe we should talk about fairy tales. . . and how the Prince is never as charming as they say. There's always some sort of fault: some sort of misdemeanour that creates tension, fault, and fear. 

I cannot tell you the amount of times I have dreamed up a story where I am Marigold and he is Christian (re: "Once Upon a Marigold" by Jean Ferris). Or perhaps I will awaken to a glittering day and be whooshed away into some sort of coming of age film-like romance, heightened by fickleness and idleness only to come to that perfect, "and everyone lived happily ever after." That's just it though. 

Film. 

All too often I think of ideal story lines, fascinating projections of amusing lifestyles. Nothing true. Nothing tainted. 

I'm starting my second semester of university: three more courses to check off the Bachelor of Social Work entrance prerequisites. My eyes are slowly being opened to the real world, and it's not fun. It's daring and intriguing, but frightful. I'm scared that because this world has slowly been draining life out of its waters and lands, very soon, steadily and speedily, all the innocence, love, and happiness will be drained out too.

I want to pioneer something.

What is left to pioneer? 

The closer I inspect and speculate, the more I find myself doubting what I used to feel. Feelings of concern are still more dominant than fear, and I am quite grateful for that. There is still that lack of innocence by which I see the world, though. 

And the fact that I have lost my dreamy, rose-coloured glasses is endangering and different. I am not the old me. I never will be. I am a new me. One that is lost in a the forest. Deep deep deep in the woods. I wish I could repaint things, fix the world, make it sing again. My world, at least. 

But that's just it. 

My new vision is clear. 

I see things for what they are. I can see deep into people. I know what hypocricy looks like. I know what anger looks like. Bitterness, resentment, depression, anxiety, fear. I see it on the faces of the ones I am concerned for. I see it on the faces of people I hardly know. 

I wonder. 

I wish I could change things, but I can't really. Not me anyways. Especially considering nobody sees me for me. I am sure many acquaintances and old friends and maybe new wonder why I don't smile like before, or laugh when something acutely funny occurs. I am staring deep into this abyss that not many people understand, and yes, that concerns me. 

But I am here for a reason, staring into these clouds. I see electricity, some sort of life, that is life-threatening, peaceful, endearing, and adventurous. 

I must learn something up here in the clouds. I don't quite know what it is yet. I am almost too concerned about what people are thinking about me. 

I am still ready to learn. I feel like that is what this year is about. To learn something new and to use it for good, not for more breaking of innocence. Enough of my glass has been chipped and broken. 

I want to rebuild it. Make it pretty. It won't be rose-coloured anymore, but it will be refreshing. Protective, yet instilling imagination and reality. Fusion. 

Semester II, New Zealand, YWAM, and new opportunities. 

That's 2014 for me. 

I have goals. I have resolutions.

But they're not on my terms. They're on God's. 

God knows I can't control this abyss.