Creative enough to be me and free enough to fail.
I am back. I am not sure whether anyone is going to read this but I am going to write non-the-less.
My roommates and I are doing 21 day challenges to make ourselves better. 21 days is said to be the brink of habit forming and so we are undertaking 21 day journeys towards holistic being.
The following 21 days will be what they are.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Rings multiply. Forests are to be.
Community has been on my lips and in my heart for what seems to be an eternity and a day. This moment, I see it before me, as the depth I swim in and the openness I soar towards. The feeling or recognition of such a coveted possession, state and natural ideal, steals dreams, redirects footsteps and grows love rooted in conversations and laughter. Tribe, family, group and team dare to dip into the complex realities of true community, true life and true love. As fleeting as an echo and as firmly grounded as the oldest oak; hearts dripping of verbal cues ranging from “we” to “ours” fill with the hope of a garden filled with rose buds blanketed by raw sunshine. Warmth is only surpassed by depth, giving way to the potential of further desires of knowledge.
Living delights my hunger and those who surround me begin to acknowledge my thirst. A constant conversation is a mere ripple in the wake of a bigger splash. Images seen before distort into truth. Reflections of what “were” morph, beneath a force stronger than the wind and bigger than the skies. Make believe claims undeniable truth in a world where up is east and the broken can fixedly lead a nation towards redemption.
Water rains down and gathers; drops flirt and become one. A source of life wet with anticipation and moist in participation delivers energetic hope if those few would only draw courage to drink. A seed bolder than most yet invariably weak stumbles to a place where maps are wrong and weeds are overgrown. Parched from the imposed reality, the lost grasps for understanding; unconsciously choosing the mysterious glimmer whose texture is foreign. A sip. A drop. A drink. A gulp. A bath. A swim. More is never enough. An inexhaustible moment of growth, in the midst of confusion, averts focus from acreages of monotony towards an ever-lasting catalyst of unique provision and identity.
(written in response to hanging out with friends at a coffee shop)