I desperately need to spill.
Over cocoa or ice cream.

Five Minute Friday: See

Here's the rules: Write about this word (see) for five minutes flat, whatever comes to your mind. And then click publish. No editing, no worrying, just let yourself be.

Everything has begun to look like poetry.

This rainy day, with wind.

The goal to read to page 150 and then we’ll make cookies.

This desk light making my fingers gold on these black keys.

I am glad I can see

and/but I am sure that if my eyes stopped seeing colored shapes or/and my glasses broke, the seeing would be different, but not gone. I am sure that I would see with textures and the poetry would be the same.

And sounds. Birds and wind and Aradhna’s desperate songs.

And I am sure that if my eyes vanished, my ears and hands would take care of this need to watch.

Everything, everything has begun to look like poetry.

strong

You've put strong bones in my body,
stronger words in my soul.
Only the days I recognize You can this brain produce these soft syllables.
So many words waiting.
I learn how to wait through these words.
brilliant, soft, powerful, gentle, and they roll.
and they wait for months, for years.
still useful,
but not for yet.
but I cherish them.
not for what they've done,
but just for who they are.


not even close,
but still.
loved.
wait.

India, again, always.

In this house I have to shout to be heard. And then, many times, no one acknowledges I’ve said anything. No wonder I’m quiet in other places. Well, and the fact that I cannot talk about weather.

Playing with light. I thought that sounded poetic.

Sweat. Best for contemplating though, I think.

I started a book about Gladys Alyward today. Oh my goodness. Crazy story. Really amazing. God stuff.

I went for a meandering bike ride tonight. The sun was just starting to set. Said some hellos, raced a dog down the fence.

It is when I have no semblance of control in a situation that I am happiest- that I feel secure. I’d rather watch a lightening storm outside. Only God can protect me there, and there I am most safe.

I need to go back to India. Maybe it is a want, I don’t know. It was overwhelming and uncomfortable and hot and scary and beautiful. Overwhelming, but it wasn’t empty. This place is empty. I think about emptiness a lot, because I feel its presence. Or, perhaps, I feel the absence of life. Life isn’t the right word either. Of course there is life here, but it isn’t full.

My parents and I watched The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel today. Really good. It captured India pretty well I think, at least for a visit. And it set me off again, wanting to bring life to America. One of the quotes in the movie said something like it is a place that “assaults the senses.” And for some, it is what they’re used to and they just go about their daily lives. And for others, the goal is to survive, the hope is to thrive.

You can’t just plod through life there.

I wrote about my passions changing. I want to be somewhere where life is full, but I want Americans to have that. I want to assault their senses.

White birds.

I want to chase life. No- scratch that. I will chase life. And I will drag you along with me. I will ask you deep, probing questions. I won’t settle for talking about weather.

I believe God has plans for this.

The best kind

This is the best kind of night.

I worked a lot today. Painted, mowed the lawn, helped out at the church clothing sale. Mama and I watched The Vow and drank hard lemonade. And now, it is 11:29, and I need to be going to bed because I have to leave for church at 8. But. I am sitting in my room at my desk, the desk light on, and my room is messy. Clothes, and random things- sunglasses, bracelets, my camera, a necklace from last night- lots of things. Sometimes I like to be messy because it reminds me there are more important things in my life than cleaning my room. I'm listening to Be Here Now by Ray Lamontagne. I like this song a lot. I'm PMSing, so my brain feels all at once alert and fuzzy. It's hot, the window is open, plaid pajama pants that we bought at Walgreens four years ago. I smell of sweat.

The best kind of night. When you're up too late and your brain is calm and thoughtful. And your room is warm-bright, and there are piles of things.





An interesting day.
warm-bright.
good.

Good night Lovelies~
P

deer baby and stars

Today I grumpily went out to spend some time with G.

Saw something through the fence in the neighbor's yard, a rabbit? 
a fawn!

It stayed in the middle of the yard for a few hours and then moved to under a bush.
(I did research. It was safe.)

So basically all day I would do a few things, and then run outside to check on Deer. :)

and then in the evening my papa and I camped out there.
It was so nice, to just sit in the quiet (though with the birds it was really quite loud) and relax.

and then when the sun set, the stars became visible and it was beautiful.
his bush spot. We thought this was pretty clever.
 
 yeah, I wear crocs. They feel like pillows on my feet.

 the endish of the sunset. Some geese flew by in perfect formation. (Well, what is perfect, really? But it was perfect to me.

:) ahhh the simple things. I need to just sit outside more!

and oh how He loves me all the time! though I don't deserve it at ALLLLL. WOAH J! A whole day to have my maternal instincts wig out over a baby deer, a whole day to enjoy the beauty of spring, and stars, and just... woaaaah! :)

Wednesday thoughts from a Moroccan journal.

Engrave Your laughter 

onto my bones,

these aching joints

cannot giggle so loud.

This. is Your laughter painted

on this ceiling.

Your joy echoes in this 

damp air

of this stone room,

fills up our lungs with

soft rejoicing,

whispers to let go of later,

in the soft surrender of dusk.

and You are all of it.