Looks and Glances
It's amazing how easily your mood and/or day can be changed or crushed by a simple look - whether that be from a friend, a stranger, or a glance in the mirror.
Heart of Life
I hate to see you cry, lying there in that position
There's something you need to hear
So turn off you tears and listen
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't go all the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
You know it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
Then the circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't go all the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good
I know it's good
- John Mayer, "Heart of Life"
♥
There's something you need to hear
So turn off you tears and listen
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't go all the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
You know it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
Then the circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't go all the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good
I know it's good
- John Mayer, "Heart of Life"
♥
Faith
When God told Abraham, who was a hundred at the time, that at the age of ninety his wife Sarah was finally going to have a baby, Abraham came close to knocking himself out - "fell on his face and laughed," as Genesis puts it (17:17). In another version of the story (18:18), Sarah is hiding behind the door eavesdropping, and here it's Sarah herself who nearly splits a gut - although when God asks her about it afterward, she denies it. "No, but you did laugh," God says, thus having the last word as well as the first. God doesn't seem to hold their outburst against them, however. On the contrary, he tells them the baby's going to be a boy and that he wants them to name him Isaac. Isaac in Hebrew means laughter.
Why did the two old crocks laugh? They laughed because they knew only a fool could believe that a woman with one foot in the grave was soon going to have her other foot in the maternity ward. They laughed because God expected them to believe it anyway. They laughed because God seemed to believe it. They laughed because they half-believed it themselves. They laughed because laughing felt better than crying. They laughed because if by some crazy chance it just happened to come true, they would really have something to laugh about, and in the meanwhile it helped keep them going.
Faith is "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen," says the Epistle to Hebrews (11:1). Faith is laughter at the promise of a child called laughter.
If someone had come up to Jesus when he was on the cross and asked Him if it hurt, He might have answered, like the old man in the old joke, "Only when I laugh." But He wouldn't have been joking. Faith dies, as it lives, laughing.
Faith is better understood as a verb than as a noun, as a process than as a possession. Faith is not being sure where you're going, but going anyway. A journey without maps. Tillich said that doubt isn't the opposite of faith; it is an element of faith.
I have faith that my friend is my friend. It is possible that all his motives are ulterior. It is possible that what he is secretly drawn to is not me but my wife or my money. But there's something about the way he looks me in the eye, about the way we can talk to each other without pretense and be silent together without embarrassment, that makes me willing to put my life in his hands as I do each time I call him friend.
I can't prove the friendship of my friend. When I experience it, I don't need to prove it. When I don't experience it, no proof will do. If I tried to put his friendship to the test somehow, the test itself would queer the friendship I was testing. so it is with the Goodness of God.
The five so-called proofs for the existence of God will never prove to unfaith that God exists. They are merely five ways of describing the existence of the God you have faith in already.
Almost nothing that makes any real difference can be proved. I can prove the law of gravity by dropping a shoe out the widow. I can prove that the world is round if I'm clever at that sort of thing - that the radio works, that light travels faster than sound. I cannot prove that life is better than death or love better than hate. I cannot prove the greatness of the great or the beauty of the beautiful. I cannot even prove my own free will; maybe my most heroic act, my truest love, my deepest thought, are all just subtler versions of what happens when the doctor taps my knee with his little rubber hammer and my foot jumps.
Faith can't prove a damned thing. Or a blessed thing either.
- Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC
Why did the two old crocks laugh? They laughed because they knew only a fool could believe that a woman with one foot in the grave was soon going to have her other foot in the maternity ward. They laughed because God expected them to believe it anyway. They laughed because God seemed to believe it. They laughed because they half-believed it themselves. They laughed because laughing felt better than crying. They laughed because if by some crazy chance it just happened to come true, they would really have something to laugh about, and in the meanwhile it helped keep them going.
Faith is "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen," says the Epistle to Hebrews (11:1). Faith is laughter at the promise of a child called laughter.
If someone had come up to Jesus when he was on the cross and asked Him if it hurt, He might have answered, like the old man in the old joke, "Only when I laugh." But He wouldn't have been joking. Faith dies, as it lives, laughing.
Faith is better understood as a verb than as a noun, as a process than as a possession. Faith is not being sure where you're going, but going anyway. A journey without maps. Tillich said that doubt isn't the opposite of faith; it is an element of faith.
I have faith that my friend is my friend. It is possible that all his motives are ulterior. It is possible that what he is secretly drawn to is not me but my wife or my money. But there's something about the way he looks me in the eye, about the way we can talk to each other without pretense and be silent together without embarrassment, that makes me willing to put my life in his hands as I do each time I call him friend.
I can't prove the friendship of my friend. When I experience it, I don't need to prove it. When I don't experience it, no proof will do. If I tried to put his friendship to the test somehow, the test itself would queer the friendship I was testing. so it is with the Goodness of God.
The five so-called proofs for the existence of God will never prove to unfaith that God exists. They are merely five ways of describing the existence of the God you have faith in already.
Almost nothing that makes any real difference can be proved. I can prove the law of gravity by dropping a shoe out the widow. I can prove that the world is round if I'm clever at that sort of thing - that the radio works, that light travels faster than sound. I cannot prove that life is better than death or love better than hate. I cannot prove the greatness of the great or the beauty of the beautiful. I cannot even prove my own free will; maybe my most heroic act, my truest love, my deepest thought, are all just subtler versions of what happens when the doctor taps my knee with his little rubber hammer and my foot jumps.
Faith can't prove a damned thing. Or a blessed thing either.
- Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC
Just Another Aching Heart
With summer just around the corner, I can't help but think back to the past one, and I am faced with having to remember all that I lost...
Jack. Good, sweet, dumb Jack. He was so loud, so annoying, and so troublesome. But also so sweet, so loving, so adorable, so innocent, and so playful. He was one of my babies. And I loved him. God, I loved him so much. He wasn't "just a dog," and if you say that then you can't possibly understand, because we are most certainly not on the same level. It didn't matter that he was a dog. He was my companion, my doorkeeper, my ally, my joy, my love. And then because of someone's careless mistake, he was gone.
Gone. Just like that, gone. Forever. And I'm left with my final memory of him being his still, unresponsive body lying on the side of the road. He looked like he was sleeping. The way he looked every morning at the foot of my bed. But this time his ears didn't twitch. His tail didn't flick. And he never got up. And that is an image that will forever be imprinted in my mind. It's the first one that flashes across my eyes when I think of him, and I don't know how to deal with that. I just miss him. I miss that stupid, annoying, stubborn, cuddly ball of fur. And I'd give anything to have him wake me up too early in the morning with his incessant barking just once more.
Ian. God, it's so unfair. He went through so much shit before he even turned one. And it didn't get any easier with time. He had a good thing going at the Paranal house, but then life happened. And with only a few short hours notice, he was gone.I remember that summer day...we all knew it was bound to happen, but we thought for sure they'd at least give us a week's notice, at least a few days...but they didn't. Just a simple "we're picking him up today." And that was that. I didn't want to let him go, but I only had a few minutes to hug him longer, to give him a few final kisses.
That kid was so annoying sometimes. He was so bratty and spoiled and fussy, but he could always put a smile on my face. I was going to be his godmother. I dreamed of the day that it would be official, that I would really be his ninang, but it never came. He was taken away from us and we don't know where he is.
I hope he's with another family, a better family. He deserves the best there is. I hope he has all the toys he could imagine, a doggy to play with, and all the love that he deserves. I hope that life has finally started going uphill for him. For God's sake, the child is three years old. He deserves a break.
One day, LeAndrew Eugene Smith, I will find you. And once again you will bring me happiness, in place of all these tears.
Friends. The ones with which I survived high school, did the stupidest things, talked the most trash, had the most fun, and loved the most. I lost a few really good ones, a few really great ones. Because of stupidity. We were all stupid. Cooler heads did not prevail and we lost something amazing. I was looking through some pictures from senior year a few days ago, and they only made me sad. We've reconciled since, but we don't talk like that anymore. We don't laugh like that anymore. We don't hug like that anymore. I don't even know if we care like that anymore. And that is just heartbreaking. Our lives have been intertwined for eight years, and what's to show for it? All I see is that we are still stubborn, still immature, still haughty, and still stupid. I hope that someday, and someday soon, we'll grow up. That we'll grow out of our insecurities and our grudges. Because I still love them. I love them so much, and I never stopped loving them.
I hope we'll be so much better than we ever were.
It's the middle of the night, and I'm alone in the dark with my hurt, my regrets, and my tears. But that's not so special. I'm just another aching heart facing another silent night.
Jack. Good, sweet, dumb Jack. He was so loud, so annoying, and so troublesome. But also so sweet, so loving, so adorable, so innocent, and so playful. He was one of my babies. And I loved him. God, I loved him so much. He wasn't "just a dog," and if you say that then you can't possibly understand, because we are most certainly not on the same level. It didn't matter that he was a dog. He was my companion, my doorkeeper, my ally, my joy, my love. And then because of someone's careless mistake, he was gone.
Gone. Just like that, gone. Forever. And I'm left with my final memory of him being his still, unresponsive body lying on the side of the road. He looked like he was sleeping. The way he looked every morning at the foot of my bed. But this time his ears didn't twitch. His tail didn't flick. And he never got up. And that is an image that will forever be imprinted in my mind. It's the first one that flashes across my eyes when I think of him, and I don't know how to deal with that. I just miss him. I miss that stupid, annoying, stubborn, cuddly ball of fur. And I'd give anything to have him wake me up too early in the morning with his incessant barking just once more.
Ian. God, it's so unfair. He went through so much shit before he even turned one. And it didn't get any easier with time. He had a good thing going at the Paranal house, but then life happened. And with only a few short hours notice, he was gone.I remember that summer day...we all knew it was bound to happen, but we thought for sure they'd at least give us a week's notice, at least a few days...but they didn't. Just a simple "we're picking him up today." And that was that. I didn't want to let him go, but I only had a few minutes to hug him longer, to give him a few final kisses.
That kid was so annoying sometimes. He was so bratty and spoiled and fussy, but he could always put a smile on my face. I was going to be his godmother. I dreamed of the day that it would be official, that I would really be his ninang, but it never came. He was taken away from us and we don't know where he is.
I hope he's with another family, a better family. He deserves the best there is. I hope he has all the toys he could imagine, a doggy to play with, and all the love that he deserves. I hope that life has finally started going uphill for him. For God's sake, the child is three years old. He deserves a break.
One day, LeAndrew Eugene Smith, I will find you. And once again you will bring me happiness, in place of all these tears.
Friends. The ones with which I survived high school, did the stupidest things, talked the most trash, had the most fun, and loved the most. I lost a few really good ones, a few really great ones. Because of stupidity. We were all stupid. Cooler heads did not prevail and we lost something amazing. I was looking through some pictures from senior year a few days ago, and they only made me sad. We've reconciled since, but we don't talk like that anymore. We don't laugh like that anymore. We don't hug like that anymore. I don't even know if we care like that anymore. And that is just heartbreaking. Our lives have been intertwined for eight years, and what's to show for it? All I see is that we are still stubborn, still immature, still haughty, and still stupid. I hope that someday, and someday soon, we'll grow up. That we'll grow out of our insecurities and our grudges. Because I still love them. I love them so much, and I never stopped loving them.
I hope we'll be so much better than we ever were.
It's the middle of the night, and I'm alone in the dark with my hurt, my regrets, and my tears. But that's not so special. I'm just another aching heart facing another silent night.
I Miss You
Good God, I miss you. I miss your smile, your face, your hugs. I miss our talks, our laughs, our tears. I miss the way things were, the way we were. But it was all bound to change eventually, we were bound to change. At times it went smoothly, at others not at all. I just can't believe how different things are now, how different we are. We never thought it'd be like this, and if it was, it wouldn't be for much much longer. And yet here we are. I am here and you are there. We hardly see one another. And when we do it's never long enough, never meaningful enough. I wish there was something I could do to change that. I wish there was something I could say to make you understand just how much you mean to me, just how much you've affected me. I hope that I'll see you soon. I hope that we'll talk again. But for now, all I can say is that I miss you. Good God, I miss you so much.
Homesick for a Place that Doesn't Exist
I've been feeling a bit nostalgic lately, but not for anything familiar. I've been feeling homesick, but not for my home. I was in Roseville just a little over a month ago, but it feels like it's been ages. And with me not going back for Spring Break and all, I'm feeling somewhat stuck here. I feel like I want to leave, but I don't know where I want to go. There are some in and near Roseville whom I wish to see, but only a select few. It's not that I have anything against the rest of them, I just feel like I don't need to see them. Not quite yet.
I feel like I want to go back to something familiar, but not too familiar. I feel like I want to see some familiar faces, but not too familiar. I guess what I want is to be somewhere that I vaguely know and know that acquaintances are nearby, but not have to see them.
Or I want to go somewhere completely new. Somewhere I have never been, a place where nobody knows me. I admit that does sound a bit lonely, but more-so exciting. I do not have a problem with solitude, and enjoy entertaining the idea of simply going away for a while and relishing in it. Going somewhere I can be on my own, where I can spend my days sleeping and my nights lounging in cafes, watching films, going to art exhibits, reading all those books I haven't had the chance to get around to. But of course this is only a dream. Because something like that takes money, and lots of it. Something I happen to be lacking.
I feel like I am searching for something, wanting to return to something, to somewhere, but I don't know what or where. Because what I am is homesick for a place that doesn't exist. And that's hard to wrestle with.
So back to dreaming I go.
I feel like I want to go back to something familiar, but not too familiar. I feel like I want to see some familiar faces, but not too familiar. I guess what I want is to be somewhere that I vaguely know and know that acquaintances are nearby, but not have to see them.
Or I want to go somewhere completely new. Somewhere I have never been, a place where nobody knows me. I admit that does sound a bit lonely, but more-so exciting. I do not have a problem with solitude, and enjoy entertaining the idea of simply going away for a while and relishing in it. Going somewhere I can be on my own, where I can spend my days sleeping and my nights lounging in cafes, watching films, going to art exhibits, reading all those books I haven't had the chance to get around to. But of course this is only a dream. Because something like that takes money, and lots of it. Something I happen to be lacking.
I feel like I am searching for something, wanting to return to something, to somewhere, but I don't know what or where. Because what I am is homesick for a place that doesn't exist. And that's hard to wrestle with.
So back to dreaming I go.
The Worst Part of Being Lied To
"The worst part of being lied to is knowing that you weren't worth the truth."
And ain't that a bitch.
Knowing that someone close is lying to you and trying to figure out why can drive you mad. Especially when it's someone that you trust. Someone that you have a solid relationship with. Or so you thought. That's the worst. Giving trust and receiving none in return.
Trust is a fickle thing. It can take years to build, and only a few words to destroy. And after it's gone, well I'm not quite sure what happens then. You can try to go back. You can try to rebuild it. And you can -- but only to a certain point. Because forgiving is easy but forgetting...forgetting is the hard part. It's hard to forget the feeling of betrayal. It's hard to believe the words that you want to but can't. It's hard to go back to the way things were because it's hard to forget that you were only second best. It's damn hard to forget that you weren't worth the truth. The doubts, the insecurities -- they're not so easy to just wipe away.
I hope I learn how to wipe them away, and soon. Because sometimes, it still kills me. It's time to move on but I can't. Because forgiving is easy, but forgetting is the hard part.
And ain't that a bitch.
Knowing that someone close is lying to you and trying to figure out why can drive you mad. Especially when it's someone that you trust. Someone that you have a solid relationship with. Or so you thought. That's the worst. Giving trust and receiving none in return.
Trust is a fickle thing. It can take years to build, and only a few words to destroy. And after it's gone, well I'm not quite sure what happens then. You can try to go back. You can try to rebuild it. And you can -- but only to a certain point. Because forgiving is easy but forgetting...forgetting is the hard part. It's hard to forget the feeling of betrayal. It's hard to believe the words that you want to but can't. It's hard to go back to the way things were because it's hard to forget that you were only second best. It's damn hard to forget that you weren't worth the truth. The doubts, the insecurities -- they're not so easy to just wipe away.
I hope I learn how to wipe them away, and soon. Because sometimes, it still kills me. It's time to move on but I can't. Because forgiving is easy, but forgetting is the hard part.
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