"you don't want it"

I was accused today of not wanting something I indeed want very badly. 

The unsettling part is that the accusation was true. In fact, I have not wanted this thing in such a clever way that I was fooled into thinking I actually wanted it. Furthermore, in responding (inwardly) that it wasn't so, I confused the wanting of the thing itself with the wanting of the accusation to be false.

What has been going on is - I wanted to want to know. 

Which is different than wanting to know. 

This is my creative response:

Violent winds, 

deceivingly calm

in appearance.

Shattered glass,

stained wall.

A reminder of

the fierce desire 

to be washed, spotless,

made whole.

A reminder that I

cannot stand the fact that 

i am flawed,

distracted,

asleep with listless rage. 

a loft in manhattan

*

Outwardly disheveled,
warm within.
A haven for the wandering
the awkward
the rent
the speechless
the suffocating
the shamed
the questioned
the misunderstood.

There is room for all
though God has given this place to us.
Seekers of unity,
of similar essence,
who relish communion
confirmed through silence,
And mystery.

We labor and strive for excellence, 
we grow weary and return for rest.
Ink on the page, fingers to the keys.
Even in our triumphs,
inadequate recipients of beauty are we,
In company.

*written for s. wells jan '07

alone in manhattan

*
Night.
Just in off the street.
Rain.
Chill.
I sit
Nestled in my coat.
Sipping a hot latte.
I watch
I let the night invite me in

to a place 

where I don’t want anyone to see 

me.
where I am just one of the masses.
so alive, alert,

engaged...
I can be what I am not 

usually.

I release the fascinations of my common life.

Strange and foreign things become lovely.
Many wait for many others.
I expect no one.
There are no lifelines tonight.
I am alone and in communion
with the rest of Manhattan’s isolated.

* from jan '07

the leaf

*

I took a walk with God this afternoon and conversed. About art and poetry. I found a leaf that had fallen. It had maintained its shape. Damon said it seemed to be hugging something that got away. I marveled at its detail and simplicity. It was not extravagant and all the more beautiful for not being so. It was what it was - and it was lovely. It was also naked and exposed.

*from jan '07

question mark, period

am i to you
an unforgettable mystery;
nuanced and fluid,
ever traveling
on the brink of elusive?

are you to me
a secret melody;
familiar and seductive,
ever resonant...
palpably interrupted?

we are to each other
(i suppose)
holy ones of intrigue
who refuse to war against excuse and distraction;
ever-aging fragments of possibility

trembling in the clutch 

of vague recollection.

together occasionally

i'm not the conventional romantic sort. 

i do not dream of weddings

though

i am dazzled by Jesus, the bridegroom, 

melted by golden light, 

invigorated by books and hot mochas. 

i fall in love easily with buildings, trees, 

subway trains packed with people. 

but occasionally, 

in the quiet night

i imagine you* beside me

in life

dazzled by Jesus, 

melted by golden light, 

invigorated as we read to each other

and sip hot mochas.  

i imagine us

beholding grand buildings, 

climbing trees,

riding in people-packed subway trains

together. 

*no one in particular

about a pen

in the coffee shop today a man asked to borrow my pen. at first i was caught off guard and slightly irritated due to the interruption (i was daydreaming). as i watched him address some letters i found myself glad that i had relinquished the pen and i forgave the interruption. 

he was endearing. at least i perceived him to be that way.

he had a kind, simple face. 

as he departed i imagined what it would be like if more people (in los angeles) asked to borrow pens from strangers in coffee shops. 

moreover, what if the realm of borrowing encompassed more than a pen? what if we borrowed books and clothes and (gasp) even money from each other - without feeling burdened?

what if borrowing turned into sharing

and awkwardness into familiarity,

hesitancy into eagerness,

inconvenience into delight?

strangers might become comrades.

we might for once forget ourselves.

death could turn into life. 

about a merry-go-round

i would much rather see children dance like idiots than see them strapped to porcelain-looking animals moving forever in circles. i wish the animals would come to life and frolic in the courtyard. i wish the same for the children. 

to live like this

full of life. full of play. full of the Spirit. wildly enthusiastic. free. 

met them this weekend...these kids rock! 

i want to be like them. i want to dance like them.

"...children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free..." - g.k. chesterton

the bible

i cannot help but dwell on God's word as something He has preserved throughout the ages so that i could take in His heart specifically and thoroughly. do i seem arrogant? possibly. but do i care? He loves me. He has loved me. indeed, so very well. 

so i take in His words and remind myself to slow down. 

"the God of the universe has given these words to you, each one, to you," say i to my impatient self. "take them in. they are for you and not one statement is insignificant."

so i read His story to Himself, as i would read a great novel snuggled up fireside to the one i love. i claim His story as my own. for this story is not archaic, it is eternal. 

His testimonies I have taken as a heritage forever, for they are the rejoicing of my heart. (psalm 119:111)

frozen

you are

alluring like the stars that beckon
warm like the sun at dawn
comfortable like old clothes
dangerous like a small razor...

you are 

near to me

and i

can't look 

for i

can only take in 

what will not cause

my heart to be overwhelmed

A.M./P.M.

Rose early to seek God and found Him whom my soul loveth.
Who would not rise early to meet such company?

Oh how sweet to work for God all day, 

and then lie down at night beneath His smile.

- Robert Murray M'Cheyne

prayer

if you care and i hope you do...

Prayer: listen

Prayer: read

by tim keller

simply here

still before you,
i breathe you in

your company is welcomed
with hunger for life and truth

the light is kind to this night
simple words dance effortlessly upon many thoughts
i am more caught up in you than in myself

finally

i want to linger for a while

here

on my knees
face pressed into the bed
realizing again that i am loved

truly

there is safety here
alongside a familiar friend
who i am beginning to know
for the first time

because of you.

the restaurant.1

(LEXIE and NIKI are joking around. One of their friends walks up. )

LS: We're singing a duet from 'Les Mis'. 

NL: Do you want to hear it?

LS: (singing) 'And you will keep me safe...'

NL: No, we have to start at a place where I have more words.

LS: That's the truest statement I've ever heard you say.

NL: That was a quote.

LS: (singing) 'And you will keep me close...'

NL: No, wait. I have to write this down.

LS: You're going to be at your wedding, saying your vows and stop and say, 'Wait, that was a quote.'

Lexie Scott

Niki Levoy

your mom takes pictures

How I survived New Year's Eve...

Some of my favorities...

question, answer

Who am I really?

His

Why am I here?

For Him

Where will I find life?

In Him

What does God want of me?

All of me

second things second please

How do I say it plainly? We were not created to do great things. We were created for Him, to love Him. And surely, He is great.

on my mind

• The conversation m. wallace and I had on the way back from the airport this morning about prayer and revival. 

• Daniel Day-Lewis. His role in There Will Be Blood.  How does someone live and breathe a part like he does? It is beyond my knowing. Still, I'm fervently curious. 

• The party last night. I anticipated not having a grand time but I didn't expect to be borderline miserable. I actually loathed being there. And I'm not the least bit apologetic for feeling this way. Too many people, too much alcohol, too much noise, too much alcohol. Even having a camera in my hands the entire time didn't alleviate the agony. 

• The Rose Bowl. USC vs. Illinois. Prediction: 31-17, USC of course. 
  

first thought of '08

parties are not my thing. 

really NOT.

at all.