Life is a moment. It’s not but a moment or only a moment or… Life is a moment. Its entirety is an encounter with the One.
So full, so good even in the crappiness, blahness. Really. Who would have known this kind of truth ever existed? Who could ever conjure up such an idea, concept, understanding? Who…
I’m letting it take me. I don’t know where I end up and I know it doesn’t matter. It sounds like I have no direction or vision. But what if until the day I die the only vision I have is him? What if the only dream I have ever dreamed was him? What if…
Whom have I in heaven but you?
The things in my life, the things I do, the things I am are irrelevant. The only real is what consumes me inside. How do I know? Because it is. HA. Don’t hate me. This is the best I can do. How do you describe the sound of wind or the movement of water? How…
Reader, whoever you are, I’m so lost. I don’t know anything. I don’t get anything. Everything I know is bigger than me, deeper than me, stronger than me. I don’t stand on anything, cling to anything, lean on anything. I have nothing in me to be desperate enough to want. Everything I know is holding me. It doesn’t hold me together. It just holds me. Exactly the way I am. It carries me. Hahahaah. Damn. I sound freaking loopy. I don’t know to react to my own… whatever this is.
And earth holds nothing I desire besides you.
All I know is I don’t care. I go to school and I love it. But it means nothing to me. I serve and I love it. It means nothing to me. I work and I love it too. It means nothing to me. I love to love. It means nothing to me. Really. I do it because… why not? I want to. So I do. Take it from me and what do I have left? Everything. Nothing lasts. Nothing lasts. Nothing lasts. Except my everything.
I’ve let go and am letting go of my fear of being misunderstood, of being found as someone weird, heretical, whatever. I yam what I yam. I don’t know how to be anything else. I used to worry that my entries, my heart might disturb people. That I would become a concern to those who “matter”, that I would become a prayer request instead of a celebration of what’s good, true and perfect. That I’m not going down the right path, doing the right thing, being the right person. Maybe I’m all of those things. Maybe.
My heart and my flesh will fail
I realize that to think such things about me, such worry only reveals my sense of me. Pride. To conceal who I am, to apologize for myself, to fear myself, to cringe at the sound of opening up myself to the world. All are things of me. I have no more me. I have no desire, hope, longing for anything else. I have no strength in me to defend myself, to protect my heart. Here I am.
but you are the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
Okay. Let it be.