i have a new apartment. it is the glory of my life. this is the first step in the shedding of my skin. the old is going and the new is just underneath. i hate change, i fear change, but oh how i long for it! how long have i been saying that i want things to be different, only to allow myself to go back to how they were? i went to minneapolis and it should've changed my life. i suppose, to an extent, it did. but now i've been home for two months and im empty again. but it's worse this time because i'm back where i was and i feel the difference still. if i keep on ignoring it and not doing anything to change it, i'm going to forget and things will return to business as usual. but if i were to actually do something about what i feel, it would be a very different thing indeed.
i can barely look myself in the eye anymore because of who i am and what i've become. i am living out of fear..the one and only thing i swore i would never be nor allow. i am too strong and i have come through far too much to simply bow under the pressure. yet, that is who i have become. i am afraid that my desires are too big, that i'm simply craving too much. if i could just settle for what i've been given... and yet, it is not enough. there is a craving deep inside me that refuses to allow it. it swallows up any chance i have at happiness in the mediocrity. not that i would ever actually want to be capable of living in mediocrity. i'm thanking my lucky stars that i'm not. but i am an extremist. i need passion, and vibrant colours, and something driving me. i do better with chaos because i am peaceful. i am a constant conundrum and contradiction and that works for me. i should not fear something that is so deeply engrained in me that i have no hope of removing it. i could shoose to fight it, but how exhausting. i struggle because i feel that the religiosity would claim this is what i should do. i should fight and overcome my desires. that they are sin and i should be dead to them. to be dead to my passion is to be more dead then death will bring. i have not been created to be stagnant.
what am i fighting, i wonder? what is holding me back? what do i feel i am being left from? life? that is of my own doing. who and what i am? also, i am the only one who can choose. it is up to me. life does not stop. only my responses to things can push the pause button.

...I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet...

~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

we are never living, but hoping to live

desire is the deepest thing i feel. it is the innermost intrinsic experience of my life. i am constantly in a state of desiring, needing, longing. and it does not seem to serve me well. instead of filling me with hope, i am found to be emptier then when i began. am i just greedy? am i discontent with what i have and so i reach out for what others have been given? even when i'm happy, i am not content. everything should be different. how much of our lives is up to us? and how much just happens?

desire was placed in our hearts to revoke contentment. like a stagnant stream breeds disease, being complacent breeds disease in our hearts. if we had no secret drive, we would cease to be. and if it weren't secret and aloof, why would we press on to find it?

desire is elusive. it is a strange thing indeed to have something driving you that remains for the most part nameless and faceless. too many times we get caught up in the unknown and falter. What if it doesn't show itself? was it all-for-naught? what happens after we not only pursue our hearts desires but we actually attain them? i fear we forget that attaining them is simply the beginning. after that, we must fight ever harder to keep it.

we know, or at least we have an idea, of what we want. but we are never truly able to look it square in the eye because we don't know what we're going to find. what if our sneaking suspicions are true and this thing is so much bigger then ourselves? dare we unleash such a beast? we are well acquainted with the still, small nagging that tells us our hunger will be our undoing. if we were to actually embrace it, we could not contain it.

dare we come alive?

do we dare to awaken our hearts to their true desires?

of course we are creatures of desire and passion. it is intrinsic to our nature because it is intrinsic to our God. we were bourne of deep heart. our deep heart was our gift. and the very breath of God set it on fire. it is our compass and our guide back to the One who's deep heart first yearned. only in that reunion do we find completion, absolution.

"the greatest human tragedy is to give up on the search. nothing is of greater importance then the life of our deep heart. to lose heart is to lose everything."

i feel as though i'm losing everything...

there once was a girl who dreamed of things she had never experienced. but when she dreamt, the entire world changed. she lived in a place without color but in her dreams she saw in ways no one else ever had. there was nothing remarkable about her world, and she was even less remarkable. change was not allowed, nor variance permitted. she was not the same and yet to the untrained eye, who could tell? she looked the same. she acted the same. she even talked the same. and yet inside of her had been planted something very different from those around her. she had been given a secret. the secret was a very small thing at first. much like a seed is planted in the hard soil, so this was planted deep in her heart. different from a traditional seed, however, because it did not need tending. it grew of its own accord. throughout the years of her life, the girl was prone to see and hear and feel things that no one else could. very slowly, she began to notice peculiar pains in her heart. something foreign was there. she could feel it poking her. when she inquired of those older and wiser, she was told that it was simply growing pains and would pass. but then the dreams started. there was nothing out of the ordinary on this day, except perhaps that her heart had been throbbing an unusual amount, but when she fell asleep she encountered something she had never before. she was in a world that looked so much like hers and yet was not the same. it was brilliant. colors shone from every last inch. smells intoxicated her senses. warmth engulfed her and a breeze played with her hair. who knew it could be like this? she had awoke with a start and a particular pain in her heart. she would catch herself remembering this dream throughout the days that followed and she began to taste longing. oh how desperately she wanted to go back there. night after night she would crawl into bed with the anticipation of the dream. but it was a very long time, and she began to forget. time passed and she grew a little more. the pain in her heart had almost ceased and she decided that the others had been right. she was just growing up. as she went about her mostly normal life, normal things happened and some not-so-normal things too. these things were life and even though she could not tell it, her heart was slowly growing hard. but that was just growing up. the pain in her heart came back for a visit on very rare occasions. but for a brief moment she would entertain it. she would recall, as best she was able, the dreams she used to have. but she was much older now, and it had been some time since she had known them. the colors were faded and the air was less fresh. the breeze had softened and the smells were dull. too soon, she would say good-bye and move on. over time, though the pain in her heart did not cease, she became much better at ignoring it, until it seemed to simply give up. she revisited less and less until she could no longer remember what she had seen and felt.
a day came, however, when she could no longer forget. the dreams came back so suddenly, so unexpected, that the girl could no longer ignore or pretend that they were not there. her heart pounded with such force, such unadulterated intensity, she could only lie there and feel. waves of the most beautiful agony washed over her, and the severity of the pain was incomparable to the the ache that replaced it when it was not there. her eyes hurt to look upon her own world because of how the colors shone in her dream. how she held walking in contempt. why must she walk when she knew she could fly? all of her senses were revolted by the tastes and sights and sounds because they were empty. what she had always took comfort in now disgusted her. where she once had contentment she now found only emptiness. these dreams began to feel more like home and she began to wonder if she mightn't be meant for something more. the seed cracked open just a hair.
those closest to her began to feel the changes happening, and though they wondered at it, they dared not ask. she was simply growing up.
time continued passing and the girl found herself restless. as the dissatisfaction of her surroundings tainted her, she found herself drinking in the longing and desire of something more as one would a delicacy of the rarest kind. if a night would pass without a dream, or a day go by when she did not ache, she would weep and mourn the tragedy of the waste. life was not worth doing if she could not have her dreams. the people began to notice this difference. it had simply become impossible to ignore. they questioned but her answers only troubled them more. what was this seed? why did it affect her so? they cared for her yet did not understand. and so they did the best they could to rid her of her dreams. obviously, these dreams were the source of her suffering and so if they ceased, so too would her pain. and then she could return to being miserable, to being normal, to being like them. many attempts were made to make her forget, but all failed. though they could stop the dreams, they simply could not remove the seed. though she desperately wanted to make them happy, she realized that without the dreams she would cease to be. and so she made a choice. though leaving could mean any number of terrible, unknown things, to remain where she was would make her fate certain. without good-byes or a single glance back, she set out to make known in her heart that which had only been a mystery.
her journey was not easy. walking away from what she had always known was the sort of thing that causes strength from the brokenness. she could not say that she did not feel fear because that would have been a grave misleading. she could say however, that she was not afraid. the hope she carried and clung to simply would not allow it to take up residence within her. and she pressed on. many times she wondered if she had done the right thing, if this truly was the path she should be walking. and then all doubts would vanish as she would dream.
she encountered many mountains, each seemingly bigger then the last. the valleys were cold and dark. she couldn't really say which direction she was headed in, only time would tell where she would end up. but she pressed on. she slowly began to notice subtle changes. the grey surrounding her was slowly, painstakingly slowly, giving way to color. at first these changes were imperceptible. but then they became unmistakable. the grass was almost green. the water was almost blue. and as she realized this, the breath caught in her throat and the pain seared in her heart as her seed cracked open just a little more. she caught sight of the horizon as she crested yet another hill and she saw what she had been looking for. though still so very far off, she was indeed making her way there. these occasional glances helped to spur her when her resolve was lacking. please do not think that this was easy, nor safe. the journeys of the heart rarely are, and this was no exception. she pressed on and never gave up hope that she would reach her destination. if ever she began to forget or if the distance remaining became overwhelming, the growing ache would remind her that she must press on, she must push forward. stopping was simply not an option. she had come too far. she was tempted many times to stop and to stay wherever she was. they were good places and had everything she needed. but they were not the lands of her dreams, and she could not stay. she wound her way here and there, sometimes losing sight of the horizon, but never for any true length of time. it always returned to her view. each time closer and brighter, each time paining her more. that was why she felt no cause for alarm as she lost sight of the horizon yet again. the difference this time was that it did not quickly come back into view. in fact, time passed and she did not see it again. the mountains, and her with them, wound their way up and down, around, back and forth. yet every time she expected a view she was sadly disappointed. it was always obstructed by more mountains, larger and more ominous then the ones she had already climbed. she had no choice but to keep on. many days passed and she felt lost. she didn't know where she was nor how to get to where she should be. how could she head towards it if it was no where to be found? the mountains closed in on her and tucked her into a blanket of grey. the air grew suffocatingly heavy again. it grew cold and she began to doubt. her heart throbbed and pulsed so painstakingly that it seemed that every beat could shatter her. and she began to fear. what she did not know, what she could not have known, was that there was no need for it. the terrible pain she felt was simply the roots of her seed finally taking hold. her heart had broken when she left, but that had provided the seed room to breathe and the roots a place to grow. though she did not know it yet, this was what she had been waiting for. she longed to be anywhere else, and yet something inside pushed her forward, carried her on. it was not over yet.
she made her way slowly across the broken rocks, jagged and menacing, waiting for her fall. but she would not. she could not. it was then she realized that the air had changed. it was no longer oppressive and cold, but inviting almost. she pressed on. a spot of yellow caught her eye and she paused as a single bird flew by, it's song dancing in her ears. soon, it's song was joined by another and then more. a river's song played harmony and she could not breathe for fear she would wake. it had been a very long time since she had dreamt. and she did not want to spoil it. she continued on, pausing only when the pain became unbearable. she rounded the last bend and all fears were left right there. spread out before her, in it's dazzling array and unparalleled beauty, was her destination, her place of dreams. if she had ever known brokenness, if she had ever experienced doubt or suffering. if she had ever known fear, all was forgotten. all was left. all was worth it. she ran to the ledge and allowed herself to soar. as solid ground gave way to nothingness, the seed split open and her heart began to bloom.

there once was a girl whose heart was so big, she was able to carry all of the hurts for everyone. she lived in a place with lots of hurt so her load was very heavy. you see, most of the hearts in that time were very fragile and easily broken. she was different though, because her heart was a heart of flesh and not easily broken. it was not because she did not hurt. in fact, she had endured many of her own personal atrocities. instead of breaking her though, as it did others, it only made her feel pain more acutely. the thing with broken hearts and dreams is that the edges are very very sharp and very very ragged. they splinter easily. one must exhibit the utmost of care to pick them up and it is impossible to carry them around. throughout her journies, she had encountered many bloodied and bandaged fingers from people who had tried. though their fingers were cut to the bone, and they dripped their blood everywhere they went, these people continued to carry their pieces with them. they didnt know that it wasn't meant to be like that. and that was what her job was. to fix the broken things. she took the pieces from them, and at great peril to herself, slid their broken pieces into her heart of flesh. the edges were sharp and they slid in easily, but there were always shards. and as they splintered inside her, she knew the pain of others. she would give them a piece of her heart, to remind them what flesh was like and bandaged their wounds. she would collect their tears in a cup and drink them so the other need not know the burning of salt in a wound. over time, the flesh of her heart would engulf the broken shards and pull them deeper, causing them to splinter until they reached the very most inner place and finally dissenigrate. she did this many times and they were many hearts of flesh that had grown because of the small piece that had been given by this girl. this girl whose heart was so big. the thing with hearts of flesh is that they can bleed, and she has lost a lot of blood. too much blood.