wrestling

God.

do you love me?
do you love the way you created me?
what are you going to show me in marriage?
do my actions or my words make you cry?
do you cry?
how can i love you better?
why did you save me?
why did you make us, knowing we would reject you?
will i ever be able to rest?
why do i not trust you?

you are a sweet, sweet song.

a new challenge

when i was in Brookyln back in october,
i wandered into this bookstore right on the waterfront.
i picked up this book called "Raskols"
it is a photo journalism project by Stephen Dupont.
He lived in the slums among the gangsters of Papua New Guinea
...and he captured these worn and torn faces,
and in my opnion he did a beautiful job.

here is a little bit of his work:

i'm in a photography class this semester, 

and my focus is portrait photography.

i want to be able to capture 

the divinity that is reflected in the human face.

this skill takes much humility of the photographer

and much trust of the subject,

because within a powerful portrait...

a story is revealed.

the relationship between photographer and subject

is very intimate.

just some food for thought,

steph

do not forfeit grace.

october 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8

change is good.

some people really struggle with change.
they respond to change
as if if they do not know how to react
as if change is the very thing
that is the tearing of their souls,

but me.
i think i itch for it.

there is this antithesis that
is swept in with the autumn season

that i quietly thrive in.

because in the fall

i crave for the familiar: haunted with nostalgia

but i also am
overwhelmed in the
wonder
and
awe
that surrounds me

and i badly want to create
and restlessly i try to write papers
but deeply desire to be exploring,
to be breathing in the new air
new dreams,
 stirring in my expectant mind

the vibrant colors
and the shedding of the old skin

it is so drastic
extravagant
stunning
compelling
dramatic
it is fascinating
and incredibly aggressive
it is so provoking.

then
quietly
i breathe in
       .
my lungs
chilled,
my eyes wide
&
all is dead

violently
transitioned into a season of
hibernating
and thick socks.

just
experienced
a heap of
beauty
and loss


i'm left cuddled under piles of quilts
and knitted blankets
with my hands clasped tightly around mugs
filled with cider or soup

to reflect
to slow down

no other season can display the
magnitude of change
but
autumn
does just that.

let us not write off the intensity of the season.

why don't we live more in it.
and capture the emotion of it.

"In the Harvest 

feast or

the fallow

ground,

my certain hope is in 

JESUS found.

my lot

my cup

my portion 

sure.

whatever comes

we shall endure."

- sandra.

...dang i must admit i coveted her boots.

each encounter with change 

i find myself dancing with challenge

but when i am pulled in closest,

grabbed at the waist.

i always realize it is wisdom

holding my hand

leading my next step.

i cannot deny 

there are those seasons of change

where  the dance seems more like a fight

but, somehow we stumble right back into step.

and there is growth.

i've never regretted dancing.

running back to self-restoration.

today it feels like fall.

pure autumn.

blue skies,

orange mountain,

my lungs are chilled

fall.

the season where life is made new

where the light changes the way we look at things

fall.

so i ran.

each breath in

was refreshment

and each breath out

was negative energy being

defeated.

four

miles

.

roughly

six

thousand

steps 

.

of 

renewal

.

and i feel a like

each step i took

was bold.

each step

was stomping out

fear.

i was running a little closer

to 

who 

i 

am.

my potential.

who i am created to be.

i am not my fears.

i am filled with love.

a supernatural love.

one that allows me

peace.

i choose 

whether or not

anxiety

can triumph over me.

i will not die to my fears

i'll die fighting.

isn't she lovely?

this is my running partner. 

lupe fiasco.

"That's how it's supposed to be: a butterfly

For the sake of rhyming let's just say "butterflyee"

The truth stings like Muhammad Ali

I tell 'em tell 'em don't homicide me

I just a little old hope with his back against the ropes"

&& that is what is beautiful today.

insomnia session one.

my journal is quickly running out of pages.

and i have this urge to paint, and well i do not know what.

i just know painting something

could very well do the kind of soothing

my soul is longing for.

i have two colors to paint with: blue and yellow

the blue is of a robin's egg, and the yellow of a dandelion.

i may just write instead. or read. or listen.

i have been overwhelmed lately by the

busy-ness of the world we live in.

the constant go, go , go.

our culture does not let us breathe.

or let us be content with where we are.

or with what we have.

i want to live slower.

i want to take time to capture the beauty and love

that is surrounding me.

and to be grateful.

i want to take more pictures.

i want to get my hands molding clay,

i want to breathe deeper,

and practice yoga.

...this is the season.

the season to slow down.

to savor.

to celebrate in the ordinary.

to go on a road trip.

to make a home.

to pray.

to create.

...to not worry.

i am going to try to sleep.

or read

or something

but before i go...

this song, is worth pausing your life for a second to

just listen. and let the music feel for you.

"same in any language" by. my morning jacket

i hope you enjoy this song as much as i do.

it takes me to a cozy place.