Wordless Chorus

It's a very, very well known fact that I don't have a good singing voice. I love music, but I'm not quite sure it loves me. The other night I was singing at a worship service, and I dropped my head and was suddenly flooded with embarrassment. It's so stupid to get caught up in such a trivial thing like that. Why can't I come to terms with imperfections?

Life is a song that must be sung. Why else are there stereos in cars? Why else would people go to concerts? Why else would people fall in love? Why else would I leave home and all the people I've ever know? Life can't be glorified in monotonous dribbles, in lifeless repetition. Life can't be professed as the vibrant pulse that causes my heart to rise and the drums to pound if I'm awkwardly lip syncing, desperately desiring it all to be over. When was the last time i sat on the curb, head in my hands, licking my wounds and singing joy to the world? So I want to open the hymnal of my heart. I want to be bold for once.

Let this song resound. Let it be the clanking of crystal, the silent dripping of tears. This is my sound check; this is how I know life is being recorded.

Icarus Flew Too Close To The Sun

We lift people up on our shoulders; we parade them with pride because they're our beloved. We see a greatness in them, beaming from their magnanimity and exploding from their groveling humility. The only problem with carrying these archetypes around their domain is that if they fall, their support buckles under the weight.

So many times in history we've seen great men, men with tridents and men with doves, allow themselves to be frightened by darkness. Whether it be a fear of potential loss of the peoples' favor or a surfacing of some deep monster within that person's psyche, fear creeps in. That shadow can engulf the prominent figure causing him to lose his footing and stumble. A sight my eyes can't bear to see.

We lift them up not expecting their fall. We raise them above us because they're our heroes. They're great because we trust them without really knowing them. A heart connection is made with a savior. These worldly rescuers are here to rescue those of us that desperately and limply raise our hands for help. And they give because they were created to. God implants attributes of Himself so that we can have a tiny glimpse of His glory. He would lift up the destitute, right?

The heartbreak comes when those selected for greatness fall. It's under the world's scrutiny because the world depends on its heroes. The ground shakes with sadness over the loss. My bones lose their density. My heart loses its chipper beat.

But my downtrodden eyes are missing the point. These "heroes" are only human. Kryptonite is real; pride will bring anyone to their knees. The problem is we are so dumbfounded that our beloved hero is on the ground that we don't do anything about it. We have hands. We've obviously been lifting him up for so long. What's keeping me from getting on my knees and lowering my hand to pull his back up. I loved him and all he stood for once. Just because he's not hoisted above my head, outside my realm of vision, doesn't mean my feelings towards him have changed.

We all fidget and contort ourselves as best as we know how to complete our purpose. Some days I feel like I'm tasting the finest ambrosia. Others I feel like I'm spitting out the dirt pasted between my teeth. I know I can't always be up. So, it's far too much pressure to believe that someone allegedly great can do the same. I hope that I'll never be too timid to help my hero. The crowd may scatter, but we can't leave him behind. He may have done wrong, and we can't overlook it. But God places bits of His glory inside all of us, not just the heroes. Let's bring out the stretcher and hoist him up again.

"There is no fear in love..." 1 John 4:18

Bright Lights

Shadow. Light. Shadow. Light.

Or so the motel neons flash the Greyhound passengers

Wheels rolling west, hearts scattered in their travels

Seasoned loners curse the night

Shivering in its vastness, shrinking from its hollow whistle

Destinations unset, minds lingering at the starting point

Few are purposely driven

Bent on a mission, harnessed by a single prayer

Eyes constantly scanning for glimmering palisades: the journey's end

Silence tucks the dreamers gently in for repair and revival

Silence claws at the worldly vagabonds, stripping their dignity

I scream and I itch

Complacency has tightened over me like fine wax

Let me wipe the soot from their cheeks

They're my final peak to climb

They are my Everest, my personal legend, my love

Bright Lights you guide me

You move my hands in tune with my heart

Shoulders smoothed like delicately worn stones

Shadow is not mourning: only a recollection of your touch

Blinkers click, fingers tap, eyes flutter

Foreign feet touch the rubber aisle and carry me towards them

Breathlessly gripping faith and trust in open hands

Shadow... Light... Light... Light...

"For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love."
-Carl Sagan

"Life moves pretty fast, if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it"
-Ferris Bueller

Quotations provided by guest contributor Chris Lyle.

If Chris's quotes are true, I can only think of one thing. Can one ever take a day off? If I'm tired of being such a small pawn with nothing to give but a white flag, am I ever allowed to attempt to be the big player, the one who sacrifices everything to be known. If I'm tired of plodding along observing the same flowers, am I ever allowed to let my legs go and feel my hair flap freely on top of my head?

But as I've sat in my lounge for a couple of hours shrinking myself to the petite soldier that trots through memories in the same consistent manner, I feel like I've come to an understanding. Love isn't an actual portal through which I travel to bear the enormity of the world. Being stagnant in order to perceive the entire world isn't logical or full of life. Instead, I choose to bath myself in the cleanliness of love each morning to protect me from all the earth and mud that can be flung at one so small discovering something so grand. Instead, I choose to understand that it's all about caressing the warm fingertips of love. Sometimes it's best to soak in life's beauty on a rooftop where you tell time simply by the position of constellation, or sometimes it's best to roar through life's heart racing ferocity at seventy-five miles an hour on the roller coaster that you finally gather the strength to tame.

Love and life are not video games that you try and conquer only to be rewarded with an anticlimactic "game over". They're friends that you never get sick of. They're the movie stars from your hometown. They're a swirling collection of people, places, and experiences. They're us. Stripped and peeled down to our purest expressions and motives.

“Pressure always seems to be around when things begin, but pressure never seems to be around when things end.”

I'm sure somewhere in blogging school, they tell you not to write ridiculously long posts such as this one. But I decided that it didn't matter to me if no one else read this. I just want it to be out there for someone who's desperately clawing for light as I am. Today I was sharing this with someone who is very dear to me. It's something that I wrote last year. I'm not trying to lift something I wrote up; I'm expanding on a brilliant point made about relief from a pitiless, unrelenting world. Hopefully it will help someone like it helped me.

Pressure is a proven enemy of man. There is nothing man can do to halt pressure in any situation: pressure on tectonic plates, pressure on gears in a machine, pressure on a family to make ends meet. One could spread the pressure out over a larger surface area or to the greater masses. While this will alleviate the pressure, it will not create an absence of pressure. Pressure never decides to stop pressing; it inflicts pain on its victim coldly, without care. The pain and suffering inflicted by strenuous pressure is unavoidable, but that does not mean it is unnecessary.

The Dispossessed is a novel that attempts to sculpt out the reasoning or potential madness behind brotherhood. Man appears to have an incessant need to involve himself in his neighbor’s life. He wishes to seek companionship in others; man tends to have an innate desire to be a part of a collective group. He may sacrifice exorbitant amounts of his abilities and time in order to achieve agreement from his selected group. Therefore, he must first choose the group that he wishes to be a part of. He, then, must choose to find a means of contribution to the group in order to make it better than when he entered it. In the novel, Shevek makes the claim that man’s reason for searching for this alluring fellowship is, ironically, the same thing that he should return to the group (LeGuin 60-62). He believes that man is trying to find a place to dump all of his baggage and suffering so that others can lend helping hands and support a fellow struggler. Once in the group, he will recognize how the group saved him from an inevitable smoldering of isolated pain and return the gift of offering support for another. It creates an interconnected cycle of support. It is not slave-master relationship but a relationship created by brotherly equals.

It makes logical sense that people should rally together in support of one another as they each face certain various forms of suffering. It is as if someone were trying to break a rock by applying pressure and high temperatures to an isolated portion of the rock. Eventually, that small section of the rock is going to crack or diminish in some sense. However, if that high temperature and pressure were distributed equally across the rock, it would simply cram the particles into a more compact shape; the rock would not break because all its surrounding sides are supporting it.

This is virtually what brotherhood founded in suffering is. Man knows that if he tries to carry his own suffering by himself, then the pressure will eventually become too great. The pressure of suffering would also bring the group closer together, strengthening its bond. Without any help from the outside, the solitary individual could not withstand the pressure; it would chisel him away, obliterating him from existence. There is hope for the individual if he grabs hold of another.

The Dispossessed is a clear description of the difference between the acceptance and understanding of suffering and the rejection and fear of suffering. On Urras, people live similar to those in the Western civilization. They try to drape themselves with lavish things that will distract them from life’s reality. They do not understand that they have been living a lie behind all of their fancy comforts. Their suffering is unavoidable. They will soon find that the beauty of their possessions will outlive the memory of their lives due to their inability to contribute anything except to perpetuate a need to hide from the reality of life. They are solely focused on their own individual reputations and well-being; they are absent of legitimate brotherhood. These people spend their whole lives trying to make everything look beautiful on the outside. The problem with this gilded society is that there is no support on the inside. While these individuals may look great on the outside, they will crumble easily when pressed with ample amounts of suffering. They have no foundation in what Shevek considers to be “the condition in which we live” (LeGuin 59). The people on Anarres act as the foil of Urras because they do not have much aesthetic beauty but are deeply rooted in brotherhood. Shevek openly tells the Urrasti that Anarres is not a very pretty, pleasant place. He simply states that the Anarresti are beautiful because you can actually see their faces, the faces both marked with pain and wrinkled with joy (LeGuin 228).

The fellowship founded in shared pain and suffering forges precious stones of brotherhood. Equality is the foundation of this purest form of comradery. All members come to one another broken and without anything to offer except for their pain. Everyone is on the same level; therefore, there is a unique level of equality. No one is above another casting out rations of suffering. No one is commanding another to suffer a certain amount. They all know that if they all suffer the same amount, then no one has to suffer the most. They are only brothers banning together to find comfort in a world that wishes its inhabitants to be as least comfortable as possible. There are no masters. There are no slaves. No longer will the slave’s back suffer the whip, and no longer will the rock crumble chip by chip.

Once one communes in this deeply rooted sense of brotherhood, he/she knows that there is a strong bond connecting him/her to his/her neighbor. This deep spiritual link between a brother and sister is indisputably what makes this concept of brotherhood so strong. People constantly search for the epicenter of this bond. They want to know why suffering with others makes them feel like they know these strangers very intimately. Some choose to tag this connecting adhesive as some sort of divine fusing. There are patterns supporting this in Christian and Buddhist theology and writings. In Philippians, Paul tells his audience that his most recent suffering due to imprisonment has brought him closer to his fellow inmates and empowered his other friends to fight for the Lord’s cause. The four noble truths of Buddhism are all founded on principles of understanding, dealing, and conquering suffering. Many people choose to interpret their close connection to their suffering companions as a spiritual connection because both parties experienced some form of divine enlightenment. Whether the brotherhood is spiritual or not, it is assuredly a deep, heart-felt bond.

There is enormous beauty in a rock that distributes pressure all around in order to stay wholly intact. Its particles simply come closer and closer, strengthening their connection. Shevek firmly believed that suffering, above all else including love, brought brothers together. One man decides to support another’s suffering because he, too, knows the weight of suffering. Shevek said that brotherhood begins there with suffering: Adam by Adam, atom by atom.

Shevek also believed that “true voyage is in the return” (LeGuin 84). So if brotherhood begins in shared pain, then it must have an end. That end comes in the memory. It is similar to a piece of coal that undergoes extremely high levels of pressure and temperature. That piece of coal is under intense duress for a long period of time, but then something majestic happens. That piece of common, ugly coal becomes a diamond. One no longer thinks of the ugly piece of coal that underwent the treacherous conditions; he/she now sees it as a beautiful, timeless gem.

Brotherhood can be seen in the same sense. It begins in the shared suffering of oppressive pressure. The transformation of the brotherhood of pain takes place after the brothers are all gone. They become an everlasting memory. Future generations will remember this group of brothers as a group that cared for and loved one another with extreme compassion. Observers will recognize the members’ individual love for the group, not the pressure and suffering of life that caused this group to come together. The future generations will not remember the initial suffering of the group in the same way that a person does not remember the straining piece of coal after seeing a diamond. This memory, like a diamond, will last forever and encourage others to assimilate in brotherhood in order to make the world a more beautiful place amongst the suffering.

No Shame

Yesterday I saw two little girls dancing during worship at church. The spunky one was spinning, shaking, and celebrating. She ran all around hugging and loving on those that she knew. Her grandmother beamed at the joyous sprite; her heart may have come in to the chapel laden with strife and imagine her surprise to be supported and encouraged by one whose idea of sadness is a commercial interruption during her favorite cartoon. What was she celebrating? Did her mom let her wear her favorite dress? Was she going over to her best friend's house as soon as the song was over? I have no idea, but it made me want to spin, shake, and celebrate in my own worship.

The other dancing queen was slightly taller and less expressive with her movements. Like a pendulum, she swayed back and forth with consistency and conviction. If only I could know what rocked her from left to right. My hips were rigid, unmoving. I uncomfortably shifted my weight from one foot to the other due to the fact that my legs were fatigued from running that morning. i raised my hands, but it was only to wipe the sweat that slid slowly down my nose.

Those two girls were beautiful. They knew what made their hearts beat, and their feet showed that. It may be the fact that they're young that they have no shame to show their love for life and its Creator in front of stoic faces blankly reading the words off the screen. In my heart, I'm slipping on my green shoes and cartwheeling around life unabashed and uncontained.

Comme ci comme ca

Once hoisted upon shoulders

To be paraded around town

Air tasted better from the throne

Vision is clearer

Life went by faster

With colors streaming in the peripherals

Now another head turned in the crowd

Straining all senses to capture the moment

Because life drifts by so slowly in the waste land

Seamen sink under the weight of despair in the doldrums

With tears streaming in the peripherals

If we're always moving, always spinning

Dizzying our minds with distorted monsters of the truth

can perspective be achieved?

Trace the line and see

That I'm just twirling in circles

Mag-tastic

As a friend of mine here at college profoundly stated one day, "There are two types of people here at Wake: the Pit eaters and the Mag diners." At Wake Forest, there are two primary places to eat. The Pit is the main cafeteria; it is a huge smorgasbord of hearty vittles. The Mag Room serves primarily the same sort of food, however, it is presented in a much nicer fashion. There are white table cloths, endless supplies of sweet tea and orange juice, and an omelet line where one never looses interest due to a painfully long line. The only down sides to the Mag Room is that it is only open from 10:30 to 2:00 and is slightly more out of the way to reach.

Personally, I'm a Mag guy. I've eaten there everyday this week for lunch and still continue to rub my belly and sigh contently after each plateful of eclectic delectables. I catch a fair amount of flack because some people say it just seems too fancy when it's really nothing different at all. I beg to differ. Chris and I love eating there because we always focus on enjoying the atmosphere and diving deep into interesting conversations. We discuss everything from Wes Anderson films to Chris's adventures in New Zealand. We laugh hard and enjoy the company of the different people that come and join us on different days. It's a joyous place where life is shared, dreams are whispered, and friendship roams freely from student to staff. That's why I'm a Mag guy.

The more I think about the Mag Room I realize that's the type of place I want to live my life. I want to be willing to go out of my way to share time and experiences with people. The trivial inconveniences should just be viewed as tiny obstacles that require passing in order to reach the heralded treasure. And that treasure is beautiful. It's pure and innocent like a child's gleeful realization that she can walk, a person's heartfelt understanding that Christ lovingly lives with him everyday, or a simple white table cloth.

I desperately want to make my main mission of the day to eat in God's Mag Room. I may have to go out of my way to get there; i might have to say "no" to a slightly more convenient and immediate substitute. I want to seek relationships in His Mag Room. Oh and I almost forgot to mention the best part. The Mag Room offers desserts I've never seen in the Pit! Can you say chocolate eclair pudding?? "Bless the Lord... who redeems your life from the Pit." Psalm 103: 2-4

*(I would like to say that this post is not an actual attack on the Pit dining hall. I just used it as a metaphor. I am actually quite fond of it. Ironically, I finished a nice Pit sit with Sam a couple of hours ago. Everyone loves that cold chocolate milk.)

Green Shoes

I often wonder what secrets people choose to fortify behind the high walls of insecurity. People keep so many of their scars and ambitions in time capsules buried far below conscious thought or average conversations. But sometimes there are cracks. And little blips leak out of these defenses. Every so often you can peer inside and see what makes some one's heart run even when the rest of the body is so ready to fall on its face and quit.

I got a glimpse of one today. I was sitting in one of my classes this afternoon preparing to listen to my teacher talk about destroying art as a form of catharsis and release from the world. I was doing my best to get into a scholarly mindset because it takes a fair amount of concentration for me to stay involved in the class. Then, I looked down and saw my teacher's shoes: a pair of emerald green Vans slip-ons. I must explain that this professor is nothing less than, well, professional. He wears a sharp suit and is succinct in everything he says.

So I lost all foundation of concentration and scanned through all my potential thoughts as to why this learned gentlemen would have such a wickedly awesome display of youth and vitality. Was it some playful affinity for the children's book The Leaf Men, or perhaps it was that he could regress back to his first love whose eyes were a glimmering green sitting on the dock late into a summer night. Whatever the reason for this unpredictable display of character may be, I was able to see into the crack in the walls of his academic exterior.

I wonder if this happens often. If it's some divine way of briefly intriguing people into creating fellowship with others just to see what else is trapped behind the tall unscalable bricks of social defense mechanisms. Maybe someone looks at me and wonders if I bite my nails due to some seriously traumatic childhood event. Who knows? But I'll continue to search for these cracks. And maybe I'll get my own pair of green slip-ons...

Family Reunion

Life has picked up to a roaring pace ever since I left home. The act of leaving was painful. The act of being away is just tiring. During the last few days at home, I felt as if people around me had already donned their mourning veils to watch me float down the river Styx. It was so hard to leave because it seemed like I could never come back. So I packed up and moved in hopes of tasting life once more.

After reaching college, I was so worried that thoughts of my loved ones and friends would eventually come flooding into my mind and the sorrow and remorse would be endless. So I've kept on the move. As soon as I climbed one mountain, I'd peer across the valley and pick out the next peak to conquer. As soon I got out of class, I'd put something else on the queue. I was so afraid to let the memories of the incredible people in my life take hold of my conscious thought because I assumed I wouldn't be able to move on and adjust to my new environment. It's imperative that I settle in here. I can't grow if I'm submerging myself in the past. Dorian Gray never changed until he faced the frightening image of the present.

And then I realized... I can't laugh without sharing Ashley with my friends. I can't eat food without the sweet aroma of Gina's cooking. I can't write without Rynn's words spilling onto the page. I can't swirl with passion and love without picturing Sarah dance through life. I can't give advice without first getting counsel from Dad and Papa. I can't live here without all the people that I've known and loved. They have all made their own personal stamps on my heart.

So please strip off the veils and lift your hands high. Each day I'm away isn't another sentence tacked on to my exile; each day is a family reunion. I can be with the people that I love simply because they're a part of me. And the greatest thing is that I can share them with the new faces and places along this new adventure.