Saturday 21 September 2013

Swirling Swell

I have been at the beach; the glorious, pounding, grey and green, swirling swell. Heaven. I have a confession, though, I cannot deny. I am chilled by and scared of the beach. The tossing and crashing of that chaotic beauty is slightly more than I can bear. And yet, when I swim out, fresh and scared, I settle. I find the peace that I was desperately searching for on the foamy shore in the cool, blue, rolling hills. The waves are behind me, the sky is ahead. Heaven. I love coming back, digging my bare, pale toes into the sand, down, down,down, and then letting the incoming tide wisp more sand around my ankles and up, up, up. The water goes to my waist. Laughing, my head goes back as the next wave splashes into the clouds above me. Euphoria bubbles out in an expressive expanse and flail of the arms; in the shake of my head as I blink the salt out of my eyes; in the uncontrollable giggle that escapes- loud and full- into the air. Heaven. Heaven, heaven. Beauty and freedom surround me and soon, become me. Beauty. Freedom.












Thursday 12 September 2013

Journal Entry One-Hundred-and-Four

I have drifted. Again. It is as if my heart has collapsed for a moment. A long moment, sure as heaven I'm not feeling clearly. I can think marvellously, but my heart- oh, me. This is strange. It is not a bad state from the looks of things. . .I mean, I'm utterly fine.

But that's just it. I'm fine. I don't want to be fine, I want to be an extreme. I don't want to 'fit' into this apathetic suburbia-scape. I want to be head-over-heels in awestruck love for God, or deeply angered; enough to know the release of forgiveness when- if- I accept or receive it. I want to be wracked with sadness, just to grasp the peace that would wash over me like a cool wind off the ocean. I don't want 'fine'. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. . .and I suppose, in a funny way, I want sin so that I can understand glory. I have an insatiable appetite for 'everything'. I want to swallow it whole. I want to be rich in soul-filling growth and goodness.

Perhaps that is it.
Perhaps I am poor in spirit.

Yes, I suppose that is me.



Oh, look. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5:3) What hope. Certainly, though, we can be poor in spirit and not do anything worthy about it? Perhaps the kind of 'poor in spirit' that Jesus promises to reward is the kind that starts with the emptiness, but continues with the search-- the search for God.






I don't want fine. I want God.