Picked outta my June Book
06.07.08 2:30 AM
What is required of the space between me and the lonely?
My foundation is made of warmth, except for the part that is my Father. He lies trapped within an iceberg that I have slept on all of my nights. I am sometimes I am taken in a dry frigid wind or held still behind ominous storms. With blankets of effort and resolve for change, I toss and turn above his threat.
There is a question beneath the water’s surface:
What abandoned remains hide within the icy layers of my father? Does he remember who he was before his climate changed? The fossilized first day of his era of coldness-- Did it begin with a choice? On that day, could he speak? Read? Hope? Where does his divinity hide? Will its light ever be allowed to melt the years of his indifference? The layers of screams, of violence, of lonely quiet…
That is what lies between me the lonely, me and this man. The layers we share are what fuel our separation. But I can no longer wait for you to thaw Father, as it has been your choice all along.
There is a difference between the contents of my foundation and my heart, and I will remain the gatekeeper. As you aimlessly float away, I persevere through frozen tears-- no longer screaming for you to awaken. My slow wake sloshes against your ancient exterior. Can you hear it in there? Maybe you’ll connect this sound of distant flowing to the night I swam away. Dad I love you, but you were nowhere to be found. I escaped to warmer waters with a blank space where you should have been. I will always miss what I did not know.
2:50 AM
06.08.08 12:34 AM
I wish for a full heart. Where is my love? My fight? My passion that exists only when the two combine…
I want to sense it.
To swim in it
To taste it and
Feel its uncontainable resolve.
Across my bed in a sleepless sprawl I lie. Deceptively soft sheets in a world of rough edged layers. We must stop them from solidifying. We must peel away at ourselves, face our history, become one with time from the bottom up. I wish for a full heart—the urgency of the unknown presses against me.
12:44 AM
06*08*08
My favorite thing about the gospel his the part of the atonement that deals with healing from life. Not repenting from sin, but overcoming trials that are not necessarily a consequence of our agency. Today I have a new appreciation for another part. We will all conquer physical death. Resurrection is unconditional. That is HUGE. As humans we have an innate will to live. All through history, in ritual and in literature, death has been the lurking enemy of man—our end, our adversary, our fear. But we will all overcome. In the purest sense, we will be restored to life.
Today I was reading about when the Amlicites combined with the Lamanites to try and conquer the Nephites.
AMLICITES VS. NEPHITES
The trials of my past Vs. The hope and potential of my future.
My pride Vs. My humility
My anxiousness Vs. My patience
Carnal Vs. Spiritual
There is a constant battle of good and evil going on in the world, but also within me. Even when the Amlicite/Lamanite side seems unbearably huge in number, even when all logical odds point away from my Nephite side, it can conquer. But sometimes, it doesn’t. On an individual choice-by-choice basis, good does not always conquer evil. That seems unfair at first, but it’s beautiful. It’s agency. It’s God trusting me to govern between good and evil in my own life. Ultimately, it comes down to my choices. Regardless of size or influence, my Nephite side can always win. Because it is based in my divine nature as a daughter of God. It has a foundation that roots back to the pre-existence, a place where the phrase “ever since before I can remember” is a reality. There are pieces in me, my spirit, that have been in the presence of God, that chose this life. The Amlicite/Lamanite side has nothing that compares to the deeply sacred nature of my Nephite side. And so, whether I allow it or not, it will always have the potential to prevail. I know that is true.
06/11/2008
There are quiet envelopes in me. I was not their sealer and I’m not sure what their opening will require. But I know, in some way, I can write them.
Maybe because they are stuffed with events, impressions, time-released emotion… and it is up to me to find direction for tem, to conduct their voices, compose the words.
Maybe because they are already a part of me, though I cannot feel it now. Maybe I have already found their words in some other version of my being.
06/11/2008
Today I was drivin with Brooklyn and we saw a guy in a trench coat. She talked about how trench coats always make her think of guns. I felt fear come with his appearance as well. Before Columbine, what was a trench coat? An old man in the snow? An Italian detective? How interesting to think of my generation. As men like this cross over our streets, we collectively catch our breath, unified my a memory.
10:08 PM
06.17.08
I find shortness of breath for how tightly the dry sun encases me. I become the underside of my eyelids—like the electric red in a tablespoon of cough medicine. My carbonated skin—evaporates.
06212008 10:46 PM
We drove home from Steph’s wedding with the windows down. No air conditioning so Roger Clarence (my car) doesn’t overheat. My arm out the window, Stephy Jay’s feet on the dash, and Brooklyn spread out over the backseat. Within me, a knot tied itself—assured, safe, sacred. Something in me was no longer frayed. The triteness of my surrounding spheres solidified. Inadequacy and doubt left me in exhales and slow tears. Fear and anxiety took their mocking voices and scattered at the next exit. Until I was the only voice on the road—which is when I chose to remain silent: a quiet vessel consumed by its own forward motion.
11:11pM
07|01|08 5:32 pm
I love the feeling of water around me. I flop upside down, sink beneath, propel myself backwards… things unnatural become innate. I am smoother, slower, flowing. The clarity of the sunshine with the water’s blurry reflection balances my worries. Willingly emerged, I am not pretending.
5:41 pm
06.07.08 2:30 AM
What is required of the space between me and the lonely?
My foundation is made of warmth, except for the part that is my Father. He lies trapped within an iceberg that I have slept on all of my nights. I am sometimes I am taken in a dry frigid wind or held still behind ominous storms. With blankets of effort and resolve for change, I toss and turn above his threat. There is a question beneath the water’s surface:
What abandoned remains hide within the icy layers of my father? Does he remember who he was before his climate changed? The fossilized first day of his era of coldness-- Did it begin with a choice? On that day, could he speak? Read? Hope? Where does his divinity hide? Will its light ever be allowed to melt the years of his indifference? The layers of screams, of violence, of lonely quiet…
That is what lies between me the lonely, me and this man. The layers we share are what fuel our separation. But I can no longer wait for you to thaw Father, as it has been your choice all along.
There is a difference between the contents of my foundation and my heart, and I will remain the gatekeeper. As you aimlessly float away, I persevere through frozen tears-- no longer screaming for you to awaken. My slow wake sloshes against your ancient exterior. Can you hear it in there? Maybe you’ll connect this sound of distant flowing to the night I swam away. Dad I love you, but you were nowhere to be found. I escaped to warmer waters with a blank space where you should have been. I will always miss what I did not know.
2:50 AM
06.08.08 12:34 AM
I wish for a full heart. Where is my love? My fight? My passion that exists only when the two combine…
I want to sense it.
To swim in it
To taste it and
Feel its uncontainable resolve.
Across my bed in a sleepless sprawl I lie. Deceptively soft sheets in a world of rough edged layers. We must stop them from solidifying. We must peel away at ourselves, face our history, become one with time from the bottom up. I wish for a full heart—the urgency of the unknown presses against me.
12:44 AM
06*08*08
My favorite thing about the gospel his the part of the atonement that deals with healing from life. Not repenting from sin, but overcoming trials that are not necessarily a consequence of our agency. Today I have a new appreciation for another part. We will all conquer physical death. Resurrection is unconditional. That is HUGE. As humans we have an innate will to live. All through history, in ritual and in literature, death has been the lurking enemy of man—our end, our adversary, our fear. But we will all overcome. In the purest sense, we will be restored to life.
Today I was reading about when the Amlicites combined with the Lamanites to try and conquer the Nephites.
AMLICITES VS. NEPHITES
The trials of my past Vs. The hope and potential of my future.
My pride Vs. My humility
My anxiousness Vs. My patience
Carnal Vs. Spiritual
There is a constant battle of good and evil going on in the world, but also within me. Even when the Amlicite/Lamanite side seems unbearably huge in number, even when all logical odds point away from my Nephite side, it can conquer. But sometimes, it doesn’t. On an individual choice-by-choice basis, good does not always conquer evil. That seems unfair at first, but it’s beautiful. It’s agency. It’s God trusting me to govern between good and evil in my own life. Ultimately, it comes down to my choices. Regardless of size or influence, my Nephite side can always win. Because it is based in my divine nature as a daughter of God. It has a foundation that roots back to the pre-existence, a place where the phrase “ever since before I can remember” is a reality. There are pieces in me, my spirit, that have been in the presence of God, that chose this life. The Amlicite/Lamanite side has nothing that compares to the deeply sacred nature of my Nephite side. And so, whether I allow it or not, it will always have the potential to prevail. I know that is true.
06/11/2008
There are quiet envelopes in me. I was not their sealer and I’m not sure what their opening will require. But I know, in some way, I can write them.
Maybe because they are stuffed with events, impressions, time-released emotion… and it is up to me to find direction for tem, to conduct their voices, compose the words.
Maybe because they are already a part of me, though I cannot feel it now. Maybe I have already found their words in some other version of my being.
06/11/2008
Today I was drivin with Brooklyn and we saw a guy in a trench coat. She talked about how trench coats always make her think of guns. I felt fear come with his appearance as well. Before Columbine, what was a trench coat? An old man in the snow? An Italian detective? How interesting to think of my generation. As men like this cross over our streets, we collectively catch our breath, unified my a memory.
10:08 PM
06.17.08
I find shortness of breath for how tightly the dry sun encases me. I become the underside of my eyelids—like the electric red in a tablespoon of cough medicine. My carbonated skin—evaporates.
06212008 10:46 PM
We drove home from Steph’s wedding with the windows down. No air conditioning so Roger Clarence (my car) doesn’t overheat. My arm out the window, Stephy Jay’s feet on the dash, and Brooklyn spread out over the backseat. Within me, a knot tied itself—assured, safe, sacred. Something in me was no longer frayed. The triteness of my surrounding spheres solidified. Inadequacy and doubt left me in exhales and slow tears. Fear and anxiety took their mocking voices and scattered at the next exit. Until I was the only voice on the road—which is when I chose to remain silent: a quiet vessel consumed by its own forward motion.
11:11pM
07|01|08 5:32 pm
I love the feeling of water around me. I flop upside down, sink beneath, propel myself backwards… things unnatural become innate. I am smoother, slower, flowing. The clarity of the sunshine with the water’s blurry reflection balances my worries. Willingly emerged, I am not pretending.
5:41 pm
