Emerson, stars, and scapegoats

In Ralph Waldo Emerson’s “Nature,” he says that stars are all the more sublime because they are always there but never reachable. What should normally drive us insane instead just puts the world into perspective: the vastness of the sky, and the smallness of our own selves.

I think that can be applied in a lot of ways; that is, seeing what we know we cannot understand, and accepting that, only to observe in awed silence. In one way that’s a sort of worship, that simple kind of admiration that a mouse that lives in a giant palace might have. The universe gives us a little sliver of an idea of how large God really is. I’ve been thinking that just as we are a reflection or image of God (or in the words of C.S. Lewis, the “statue,” or copy, or the artist himself), the universe is a cheaper copy of another of God’s many facets. I could see how some people would want to worship the earth, as it does remind us of God a lot, but that’s just as silly as deifying man or beast. That’s only because both man and earth are from the same “artist,” the same creator. It’s only a shoddy reflection we see in the stars, although a pretty one.

I’ve only just begun reading Emerson’s works, but he sounds awfully Godless and Pocohontas-y to me. He was also talking about how Nature (capital N, apparently) was designed [or created itself] to include all its own answers, and that science was only the process of finding those answers hidden in Nature. I think thats a bit silly, since God’s kept a few things mysterious just so we wouldn’t think too much of ourselves saying, “Oh look at me! I know all the answers!” And looking back at history, every time a man gets that into his head he gets rather Narcissistic and thinks quite highly of himself. So God’s tried to keep us out of trouble that way. Then of course we get mad at God for hiding things from us. Every time we come across something we don’t understand, and know we never will understand, we blame God. He is our ultimate scapegoat. It’s a nasty habit we’ve all fallen into that we should stop. It’s as naive as you can get.

More later.

We, The Last Ones

juuuust something that happened upon my french notes today. enjoy!

We are the last. We are the lonely. We who have always been and always will be. We wander this fallen world. We have forgotten.

We have chosen to forget:

There are shadows. But that is only because the light came first.

[This is job job, was our job, and will be our job til the end of the world. To sing truth and dispel myth. To praise.]

They are the lost. They are the only. They who will die and will always be dead. They wander this fallen world. [Purpose comes and goes.]

They have decided to forget:

There are shadows. But that is only because the light came first.

We are abandoning this song, the last song. We close our ears to the cries of the dying and sleep,

So we can make ourselves

forget, again.

Snatches of a theme

Listening to Jars of Clay always makes me think. [If anyone reading this knows anything about me, you probably know how hard the whole thinking thing is for moi.] The song, “Light Gives Heat” always fills me with a sense of…not-big-enough-ness. Like there’s this theme, coursing through the veins of life, and I’m too little to take it all in (because I sense you have to do it all at once or not at all), let alone understand it. I can only hear snatches of it, when I go out walking, when I fall alseep listening to the Narnia soundtrack and the rain mingling together in my head, when I lose myself in a story, when I watch the news, or when I sit in my bed with my journal in hand. The song doesn’t have a sound, and yet it does – it’s very complicated and yuppie, and a thing they don’t have words for. Maybe defining it would make it not as special. So I’m not going to attempt it any further.

I really hate the whole cell phone thing right now. I mean, I’m grateful I have one, but the people I wish would call me never do, and the ones I wish I could avoid never stop calling. I can hear my cell phone ringing right now as I type, and I don’t know whether I should answer it or not.

I didn’t. But I’m going to make the trek upstairs to see who it was.

A refreshing change.

Sort of stupid…like things will change if I change the way my blog looks. but it’s very pretty, isn’t it!

 My mother and I were arguing about what “I think, therefore I am” implies. She says that Descartes meant that because he is aware of his existence, he exists. But I was saying how a tree doesn’t need to be concious of its existence to be a tree…and even though fish exist, they aren’t exactly aware of it. And it’s not as if when or if I ever stop believing in myself [as a human being] I would *POOF* out of the universe. I think Descartes is way in over his head – I mean, it’s really over the top to insinuate that anything that isn’t cognizant is only existing because it…is…, and that implying very lightly that the only organisms worth existing are the cognizant ones. How bogus and airheaded is that? Hey Aristotle Mr. Dead Guy! Obviously you weren’t thinking when you wrote this! Q.E.D. you do not exist! Burn’d, ancient scholar style!

*EDIT: k, k, read all the smart people’s comments. I’m not going to say anything smart on here anymore because I have a crack team of azns who descend upon every one of my posts and rip my babblings to shreds. XD love you guys but I mean, give me a break.*

 There’s a lot of drama going on between some of my friends right now, and amidst the tears and the stories and the phone calls it’s really hard to know what to say and when to say it and what and who to believe. I just wish there was a delete button in life, where you could go down a list of all the good and bad things that have happened to you, and delete all the bad ones. Buuuuut there isn’t, so I’m forced to put on my happy face and pretend everything’s okay for all the other people who care too much/too little. Sometimes all I can do is put off listening to the voicemails on my phone, sit down with a cuppa, and stare at the sky. Honestly, every time I take a break from life in general, even though it might only be like five minutes of peace, I keep thinking of Gandalf saying “It’s the deep breath before the plunge.” A false sense of security before the world starts falling apart again. And now that my cleverly pieced-together universe is crumbling in my hands, I’m glad I have the Bible to go to.

Oh haha this makes me think of something retarded I did lately. I was praying and I was kind of complaining because I haven’t heard God’s voice in a while, and I was wondering why and then I was like “…! oh yah! I haven’t cracked open a Bible in weeks.” I felt really stupid. and then I read some Psalms, which was nice because 1. It’s obvious how not-perfect David is, 2. he keeps crying out to hear God’s voice. I can TOTALLY relate.

And the neatest thing that came to mind was, here is this king thousands of years ago complaining and crying out to the same God who I’m complaining to now. The hands that held David are holding me now. Isn’t that rad?

Ok I really need to get off now.

TFK + crying myself to sleep last night + my journal = this.

Don’t listen to me.

I like tearing myself apart.

My complaints aren’t voiced to garner sympathy.

I just need to rip myself apart without anyone telling me I’m me or special or stupid or beautiful.

As long as everyone keeps lying to me

the only judge I can trust is myself.

Every time I tell myself how imperfect I am

it feels really good. Like by honesty I could be rescued.

They all lie. It doesn’t affect me whether they hate me or love me or appreciate me or want to kill me. I’ve grown numb to the world enough that hating myself has become my favorite habit, something I do to myself because my hatred is the only thing I can trust.

Don’t tell me you love me. Why bother?

I can’t hear you anymore, anyway.

Please give up on me.

It’s all I want.

Christians are like zombies. Except that we’re, like, not as gross…

Now THERE’S an analogy for you. Idk, i just though of it in the car. We’re dead but alive in Christ. He’s raised us from the dead.

I don’t know if that makes sense or not.

Post-Winter Camp…

Amidst all the carpetball and prank drama, I’ve taken one thing away from winter camp: sweep me away. It’s a song the band played only once, but I was left with the coolest metaphor. I’m swimming against the tide of life, against God’s will, against all I was taught to love. I just need to stop trying and let go, let God “sweep me away.” It was so cool. I’ve always felt like I should get the “God feeling” at camp, because I usually do, but what a few people have taught me is that when you base something serious (a relationship with God, marriage, etc.) on a really fickle thing like emotions, it won’t last, because those emotions won’t last long. So even though I don’t feel spritually refreshed and all that, and I feel like I might have missed out on something, I think I learned more this way. The speaker, Jason George, said something that hit me really hard, too: rededication isn’t something that happens whenever you go to camp, it’s a prayer you pray every. single. day. So from now on I’m going to ask God to help me with the easiest/hardest thing to do, living like I’m going to die tomorrow.

Besides starting over *coughagaincough*, I’ve also become friends with people I’ve always though were standoffish/hated me/were scared of me, which was very nice. Hopefully with more on board the anti-clique train, we can shake up our youth group fo’ realz this time. Which isn’t going to be the prettiest process ever, but hey. Nothing worth doing ever is.

Chew on this, whiny hinies.

Providentially (whoops – almost typed luckily there *uncomfortable laugh*) stumbled across this just a few minutes ago.

Isaiah 51:12-16
The Lord says, “I am the one who comforts you. So why should you be afraid of people, who die? Why should you fear people who die like the grass? Have you forgotten the Lord who made you, who stretched out the skies and made the earth? Why are you always afraid of those angry people who trouble you? But where are those angry people now? People in prison will soon be set free; they will not die in prison, and they will have enough food. I am the Lord your God, who stirs the sea and makes the waves roar. My name is the Lord All-Powerful. I will give you the words I want you to say. I will cover you with my hands and protect you. I made the heavens and the earth, and I say to Jerusalem, ‘You are my people.’”

5th post of the day….getting out of control lolz

A Prayer

So what do you want me to do? All these signs, all these warnings and little pushes and everything. I asked for it, I guess. I wanted You so bad, I wanted to not be hidden from You. I wanted to know You again.

So why am I so afraid now?

It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump off and die. I want to die to my old self so badly, it hurts. I feel it like a knife in my heart, carving out all the sickness and boredom and grossness.

I WANT TO KEEP IT SO BADLY.

I DON’T WANT TO GIVE IT UP.

 Why can’t I jump without keeping my old self?

Why am I embarrassed?

Why am I insulted?

Why do I hate humility?

Why do I feel alone?

Why do I keep going back?

Why do I wait?

Why does Your silence make me feel insignificant?

 Why can’t I hear Your voice anymore?

Can You show me a reason?

Why are You always so cryptic?

Do You think it’s helping at all?

I’m waiting!

What else do I have to do?

What more do You want me to do?

What else can I say?

 Is this the way You love?

I can’t understand You at all.

Deathbed Sequence

My last breath is taken, and it joins the air. Everything shatters. Walls, room, world. All that’s left is a door. And I open it. There is sound, all sound, every sound, snatches of funeral dirges, wedding bells, babies’ cries, lullabies, last breaths, laughing, screaming, and living. Underneath it all and in it all is the last melody. The last melody is the one that was sung before time, the only song remaining now. It is revealed to me at last. I have waited long. I join the song. I come to know the song well.

What is this ending? Who am I, who was I? This is the death of dreams. This is the commencement of reality. It is a nod to the past, erasing the present, and becoming the future. It is the end of time, for me. I linger between the death I am living and the life I will die into. The melody wraps and pulls and shreds me into life.

It ends, which is to say, it begins.

I am no longer myself.

I am who I was supposed to be.

blahhhhhh this was just something i typed when i was falling asleep. i fear it makes no sense, but ah well. nothing does in this world anyways.

An Introduction

Well! Good heavens, I hope I can find a place to start. I know blogs can be hard to get up and running, and this is my very first, so it’s going to be pretty boring in the beginning. So sorry.

A bit about me: My blog’s name is inspired by my favorite poem, which you can read here: http://www.blight.com/~sparkle/poems/pruf.html

I am 15 and live somewhere in North America. I write a lot. I am starting this just because I feel like it’s time to get a start on my life. This will be the unveiling of my soul, which is actually very easy to do on the internet. Yay!

I hope I can get some people to respond to this, but oh well. Nobody’s listening except God. Which is what I want most anyway.