Stygian shadows
admit,
admit,
your defeat.
You are cornered
feral ideas,
darkened songs,
bitter death.
'Round this jungle
the lambent sun
has come
to admit,
to admit its
utter ascendancy.
...

Scrape away the
mulching leaves
from last year
and the clinging
mud between the
grooves
of your boots;
stomp.

It's a new year.

I am frustrated with myself. My head echoes with the pulsing of a headache. My schedule is too packed and I am overwhelmed. It seems like I don't even have time for the small important things. My mind is consumed with a whirlwind of thoughts and many of my obligations stand unfulfilled. It's a new year, and yet I don't find too much joy in it.

And... so I take myself back to square one. And I teach myself to pray; simply.

"Thank you, God, for today. Thank you that I can feel anything at all. Thank you for my head. I'm so glad I have one. Thank you for my eyes. The sky is cloudy and the air is cold, but thank you that I can see and feel the beauty of your world. Thank you for sight. Thank you for my dear family and for my job and for all this busy-ness. Thank you that I even have a family. Thank you that I even have a job. Thank you for your breath-taking provision. Thank you for caring for me; I don't deserve it. Thank you for your grace and the courage to do the things I need to do but haven't, the things I should do, and the things I've already done. You are mighty. Thank you for my fingers- so that I can write this. Thank you for my mind- that I can capture these humble thoughts. Thank you for my health. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for my cup of steaming coffee. Thank you, thank you... for my life. "

One of my terrible downfalls is my resemblance, in personality and pursuit of life, to that of an overly- eager puppy fascinated by his new red ball. I find myself getting completely distracted by the most ridiculous things- may it be new ideas, concepts, films or shoes. I unwittingly pursue the object of my fascination, chasing after it like a puppy chasing the bright and beautiful red-as-an-apple ball. "Oooh, look! It bounces!" While these things, these distractions, aren't particularly harmful- too much of their influence tend to tediously snag my heart and mind. In my distracted state I often have over-looked the fact that I have run off course a bit. And if the habit is kept up, soon I am surprised to find myself in the swamp, up to my knees in green algae. Swamps are horrible things to climb out of. This year, my main resolution is to take seriously the words of Christ:

"Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is." (Ephesians 5:15)

If our life is ever really as beautiful as a fairytale, we shall have to remember that all the beauty of a fairytale lies in this: that the prince has a wonder which just stops short of being fear. If he is afraid of the giant, there is an end of him; but also if he is not astonished at the giant, there is an end of the fairytale. The whole point depends upon his being at once humble enough to wonder, and haughty enough to defy. So our attitude to the giant of the world must not merely be increasing delicacy or increasing contempt: it must be one particular proportion of the two-- which is exactly right. We must have in us enough reverence for all things outside us to make us tread fearfully on the grass. We must also have enough disdain for all things outside us, to make us, on due occasion, spit at the stars. Yet these two things (if we are to be good and happy) must be combined, not in any combination, but in one particular combination. The perfect happiness of men on the earth (if it ever comes) will not be a flat and solid thing, like the satisfaction of animals. It will be an exact and perilous balance; like that of a desperate romance. Man must have just enough faith in himself to have adventures, and just enough doubt of himself to enjoy them.

-G.K. Chesterton

My eyes watched

from the wet ground.

He grabbed a

handful of stars;

rays flashing
from His hands.
Covering my head,
I shuddered at
the light-
such great light
afire.

I sank into the
river, shaking.
Yet, the dark waters
would not hide me,
as the deep
lifted its hands
on high.

Was His wrath
against the rivers?
Or His indignation
against the
innocent seas?

So I sought solace in
the green hills.

Yet I heard His
footsteps
on the trails.
I saw the flash of
His glittering
spear, as the
everlasting hills
sank low.

The sun
and moon
stood still.

His breath
twirled
around me
like smoke.
And I felt the
shock
of His veiled
power.

The nations shook
and the valleys sang.

The
world
hummed
one
song.

God is the Lord.



. . .



[Inspired by Habakkuk 3]

Oh the purity that hushes the sharp corners
and gracefully bends irregularity;
birthing the transformation of
the ugliest of character.

I see the usual grumbling oak across the way
and the arthritic brown walnut tree,
their arms are now fallen at their sides,
heavy heads bowed low in somber
white reverence to the sky.

12.21