Women

Knapps, 12/30/12

It is nice,

to be alone, together,

un-bothered, un-tethered,

surrounded and ensconsed in the company of female creatures.

I forgot how smart, and funny, and deep and wise
and peculiarly awesome they can be.

Plan B

"Tydan"

Let's see where this goes.

Believe the Promise for better things.
Stay strong, and wait; loose not thine heart. God is not one who
maketh empty oaths. He is full of beauty. All the best things lay in Him.

Seek that above everything. Because nothing else will ever do.

Poloroid Documentation 10.02.12

I invite you to come sit 

inside my mellow mind, 

and consider how:

a full glass is only good, 

because we are supposed 

to drink it.

Men won't be men.

And all the children suffer,

Eating pie, and cakes and never

knowing about the yeast or 

the whole grains, ground into flour, cuz
no one will teach them real truth.

There are too many gaps,

too many frayed edges.

This is reason to dispair...

But chords can be patched.

And the knots can make 

the most sense in their strength.

I watched your hands

move swiftly, uncovered,

in the cold air. I'd like to 

feel them sometime, maybe 

on a warm beach where 

our shivers have stopped and

are stomachs are full from laden cups.

9 Hours Spent At The End of The Cul-Du-Sac

I spent all day in an old old house, with termites and milk spills, and broken windows. There was a dead bird laying in the grass when I got there, and two kitties that "aren't related, and aren't spayed", so perhaps next time I go there, there will be more kitties. But anyways, there is a turret that functions as the "schoolroom", and I read alot outloud up there, even until my tongue got sore, as the children did their quiet-work and listened, surrounded by posters of Egypt and Mother Goose. Then, the kids took turns reading, and I kinda got caught up in the wonder of the miracle of them all being at different stages. Like butterflies and caterpillars, each one was changing and growing and beautiful. It was fun afterwards, to go outside and make blind contour drawings of each other, even as the dog would steal our pens, and try to sit ontop of us. But there was much laughter. Blind contour drawings are always fun. Not all of the children did school. One was sick in her bed with the flu. One was filming a commercial in LA. One wouldn't come out of his room. But such is life... and other four did well.

We made quiches, and the baby really wanted to help with the pie-crusts, and she tried her very hardest, not getting her sleeves all in everything, but she's only three, and that can be very hard sometimes. The kids found my ipod and were listening to songs on it, and came across one I'd recorded a while back. They played it on repeat and started singing along, and kept telling me how much they liked it. Teddy even said in his raspy little accent: "Wow, you sing even better than Toby Mac!" How could I ask for a better compliment? We made obstacle-courses for each other. We played some games and sat under the trees. We climbed on the roof. Margaret stepped in dog barf. And we unsuccessfully tried eating a very unripe avocado. That is what I did today, in case anyone was wondering. It was a good day. It wasn't perfect... But maybe it was, considering, the day started, driving deep into the sunrise, emersed in a very good song, and ended, coming home, headlong into the setting sun, bookmarked by that same such pretty tune. That sort of has a way of making up for all the dirty cheeks, and crusty old sponges.

M and E, hard at work.

On life, always continuing.

There's something absurdly nice about walking in one's neighborhood, at dusk, without shoes and a just very light sweater... The air is so fresh, under the sky. The crickets call wildly, as the bats begin to flutter, and people practice their instruments, to be heard through bright windows. I always hope to see raccoons, or skunks, or just an early shooting star.

I don't know why at certain times we feel things more deeply. But I've found I am always most hopeful at dusk.

What is there to say?

I drove for a whole ten minutes with the Spanish radio station playing in the car, without noticing it, because I was too deep in thought.

Now, that's loco.

Foot Age

Can't wait till this boy comes back!

Ammendments.

Hopefully my blog won't ever get that cynical, again. Sorry.

scripted romance.

maybe it's just our society. or something. but whatever it is, it's really gotten to me. i feel smothered in all the relationships happening around me. i feel like every single one (in it's own way) is so similar. like every one is just on repeat of the other. i don't want any of it. i'm tired of it.

everthing in love is expected. and every couple thinks they are unique, and their love is "special". and maybe it is. to them. but i'm on the outside. watching. and i can see that they are all on that same familiar road, taking all the same expected steps, and it's so predictable. why would i want that?

i know how it goes. and it it's a big high, followed by a sinking low. and even if the low doesn't come deep in the heart... it comes in the lifestyle, and the habits and behaviours. the ups and the downs. but what is it with no ups and downs? boring and dull and lifeless? it's lose/lose if you ask me.

i don't want to play the game. i don't want to rehearse from the same script we're all using. don't get me wrong. i'm happy for the people that are happy to be in a relationship. i genuinely think they are glad and i don't question them; it's a sweet sort of innocence. but i don't want that.

here's a secret: it used to be my one dream. to find someone. to love. to travel in a little hippie bus with and come to understand true love, in all the ways. and to be better, because of each other. and to know god better. through each other. but i just don't see how that's even remotely possible, now.

maybe someday. by many, many great miracles. but i'm not settling for america's crap version of love. and i'm not searching for it. for now, i have a new dream. to live. life to the fulluest. seeing the good in things, in all things. in freinds. true friends. and become a freindly, maybe quiet, little nun of a girl. because life can be very beautiful that way. i am so grateful to have discovered this. but i'm not interested in boys. not that way.

i wish i could explain myself better. i'm not angry towards love. not at all. i know i probably sound calloused and embittered. i'm not. i don't feel defeated. or like my dream was crushed or stolen from me. i think it's just been replaced. and it's freeing. it's so much better. because i know that in life you should be 100% sure, and 100% original [at least to yourself]. and i don't want to live anybody else's love story [or sing their love songs]. and they've all ready all been lived - and sung - multiple times. so i guess i'll just be by myself. and find my own path. the path of truth and of love, brand new, being discovered, like the first bud of spring, or a buck, all alone drinking from a high mountain desolate lake.

i usually don't like saying so many words. i probably could have said all of this better with fewer. but i'm too lazy to figure out how to do that.

rant. over.

I wish

Things were easier.

More good things.

1. Sitting in the back of an empty van eating In N Out fries, with a wet and sandy Sunshine, licking ketchup off our fingers, listening to "Froggy Went a'Courtin'" on A Prairie Home Companion.
2. Playing like seals in the spray and surf and seaweed of the Pacific ocean with said exuberant Sunshine earlier in the day.
3. Having a friend read about how Raindrops, carrying sometimes painful rain, can also be seen as bringing flowers...
4. Sitting and listening as that same friend talked about her excitement and plans for the future, and hope in a good God.

Quality Interaction.

I like her. A lot.

Mark 4:33-34

"With many similar parables Jesus spoke the word to them, as much as they could understand. He did not say anything to them without using a parable. But when he was alone with his own disciples, he explained everything."

Oh. thank goodness.

On Company.

A brief update: I've decided to peacefully coexist with Harold, my opossum downstairs roommate. There is really no reason why we shouldn't be ok sharing this little plot of land that belongs to neither of us in the first place. He's ugly. But he's not evil. So we won't make war.

On Potential.

I feel these days that
I'm in my cocoon.
But it's warm in here. And God does a lot of work in a chrysalis, when it doesn't seem to move or grow. He works on the inside, weaving veins and cultivating a heart and preparing wings. I like taking walks in the dusk and feeling the night sky fall upon the town, by myself, but not alone.... I am coming to realize.
-------------------------------------

You're a seed full of life, just about to burst forth from the earth, to grow into a strong sturdy tree. I want to, in my wormy, caterpillar stage crawl over, under the dirt, and play with you.

But we have to wait,
till we break forth from these shells and breach the surface...
Where the clouds are and the wind blows and the sun sparkles.
When I'm a butterfly, and you're a tree.
Whatever that means... But I think...
It will all be better that way.

Wisdom.

Eating an unbaked pie is disgusting.
Yes, this is a metaphore.

To Those Interested:

I live in a little room in the backyard.
As I write this, there is a possum trying to make his way through my floorboards. It's very noisy. And my bed actually wiggles a little bit as he scratches. At least I hope it's that opposom that's been around lately. I dearly wish it not to be the skunk family moved in again. They've already sprayed once down there, and my whole room smelled like skunk for weeks - even after I did my best to wash everthing.

Whoever it is, they are very loud. Maybe it's a neighborhood-critter reunion and they've even got the racoons in on it. Well, I am trying to get into my "Snow White Spirit" and pretend like I'm overjoyed that they are all here to keep me company tonight, because I know really, these animals aren't scary.

I feel like if we were to confront each other though, it'd feel like some encounter between two armies that don't speak the same language. We'd both be afraid and not know how to communicate, and not really understand why we're at war. But run from each other nonetheless.

So, I'm just a little jumpy right now. Knowing they're so near. Perhaps I should get a screen door, so that when I leave my door open all day, they won't sneak in and hide under my bed to awake me in the night with a super-close surprise. I don't think I could maintain my inner Snow-White composure if that chanced to happen.

My current resting ground...

I call it "The Hen House." (A.K.A: the old tool shed)

Good Things From This Thursday

I picked flowers by the side of the road today; I hardly noticed them, until they were right in front of me, tiny, and white and pure and lovely. The prettiest things sometimes are the ones we have to look the hardest for.... (but also sometimes, when we're not looking at all, that's when we finally notice them)

There is a mourning dove's nest just outside our bathroom window in the bougainvillea. All day long, three, hatched babies peep and tweet and stretch their tiny mouths, waiting to be fed, so their feathers grow, so they can fly. 

I had a good conversation with my Dad about wanderlust and "adventure spirit" and hungers inside us and drives and things that push us. It reminded me that I just have to ask if I want to have a conversation with someone.

I had a really nice talk with the lady who rung me out at the garden store. More than anything, I hope one day she can find a very nice little place to call home with a little plot of land where she can plant a garden and watch it grow. It's so nice to talk about God with a stranger, in the middle of this planet where so many are still asleep.

People, throughout all the ages, have somehow, mysteriously, miraculously,  made it through tough times and against overwhelming odds. I will think of them, when I can't speak for 11 days, and every swallow hurts to the point of tears for two weeks.

I shouldn't have researched tonsilectomy-

recovery horror-stories this afternoon. :-/

We are all connected since we're all inhabitants of the same Earth; trapped in her atmosphere, locked in time... united by that.

I took a bike ride all the way to the ocean today.  I had to take the crowdiest route, because I needed to look into people's faces to see if they too, were searching for answers.  After, I rode straight into the setting sun. Because I needed to look into the face of God and have him hear my questions.

There is nothing pleasant about waiting. Except maybe only knowing that what you're waiting for is worthwhile. But that seems small most days, and very difficult to remember. Other than that, absolutely nothing is pleasant about it.

A shovel and a will...

I took my feelings and put them in a box, which I burried beneath the earth. This doesn't mean that they don't exist, it just means I can't use them right now.

Possibilities.

"Maybe I'll move to Seattle and marry someone from a Hipster band with a beard who plays the xylophone."

But wait, oh wait ...

See how the morning breaks
It's the simplest of love songs, 

but it's all our hearts can take.

Mystery

So, I was a bit upset when I rambled on for two pages in my journal about all of my insecurities and quesitons, and doubts, finally ending with this: "All I believe in is beauty. Like in Nature and Music. And things Organic. And things genuine... (wherever they may be)."

Is it funny then, that I saw a wild fox cross the road on my way home from work, and a wild hare trot across my street while riding my bicycle? Also, I find it more than coincidental that after nearly 3 years of searching, my favorite album of music showed up out of the blue. Then, Meg - who at this point I am considering might be a genuine angel -  starts talking to me in the middle of class again, and convinces me in her manner, that sincerity exists on earth.

Perhaps God is speaking to me? All of the things I said I believed in, that brought me joy, it appears he keeps gifting to me, and softly whispering: "Here I am."

But no where in the Bible does it say "You shall see a wild rabbit cross your street, then you shall know I am God."

I don't want the gospel to be something my mind creates.

Things I don't learn at School:

Birds who make nests are the ones that sing. Birds who steal other birds' nest, and lay their eggs in them, don't. Chew it.

Love is the beginning and end of everything.

Currently in school,
my teacher is trying to teach me how to be a teacher. 

[So that I can show people what words mean]

This week I have the project of creating a vocabulary lesson where I must teach non-native English Speakers what
"being in love" means. [This is for reals]

How do we teach something we don't fully know?
I'm sitting in the kitchen trying to do this homework; the radio is on, and "loveline" is playing. But it's not offering me any help.

All I can think is, sometimes, I get this feeling inside when I am standing beside a great expansive lake (or the ocean). It feels like taking a deep breath, and being filled with peace. There is this growing, powerful feeling of grandeur from the depths you know lie beneath the waters. You feel overwhelmed and excited, yet calm and hopeful at the same time. Well, sometimes I get that feeling when I am beside you...

So maybe that's a step in the right direction.
But how do I explain that to TEFL students?
Or should I just give them a standard "loveline" answer?

Case in Point.

Convicted.

"I 

think 

we 

often

believe

ourselves 

to

be 

more 

spontaneous 

and 

adventurous 

then 

we 

really 

are."

Mercy.Merci. Grace.Gracias.

I'm glad. That my parents' bed is just big enough for all of us to fit on. That my daddy still hugs me. & That my brother throws me around (i know it's in love).

Someday, death might separate us for a while... so that's why moments like last night make me so grateful that we could all pile onto one bed, together in time, and thank God for making us into a family.

Man.

I love when a boy wears uggs.

When we cannot speak. We speak in rhymes.

Un débordement de la poésie délicieuse. Le genre qui ne parle pas de mots. Il repose dans l'air, dans nos esprits ... Il ramasse mon âme et me conduit dans des endroits où la danse des lourde esprits, me prend à l'endroit où les voix montent et descendent, avec les lumières dans le tissu de l'espace, et la vérité se trouve sur chaque fontaine. Tous les puits sont pleins.

«L'amour nous élève jusqu'à l'endroit où nous appartenons."

Retrospect

• I wish I would have stopped and talked to the traveling youth sitting in the sun on Statestreet.
• I wish I could have thought of something to say to the Hindu lady who told me to "Have a nice meditation" while I was watching the sunrise.
• I wish could have gotten into Mr. Perea's class.
• I wish I knew the people that lived in my neighborhood.
• I wish it were easier to know how to say the words hidden inside me.
• I wish I lived on a farm near Budapest (today, at least).

Seven Sun Rises

This week I watched the earth greet the light each day. Every morning, I learned something different. Here's a record.

1. There is beauty in the cold, grey rainy morning.
2. Though the sky changes, He never changes.
3. Follow, even when the path is unseen. Trust Him; He is leading.
 4. My life is full of gifts. I must remember to keep my eyes open.
5. Good things come to those who wait. Wait for the cloud to pass.
6. Be still and know that He is God. Do not grow impatient... Because,
7. on the seventh day, the white owl flies over blue waters and is fed.

Somehow, somewhere the sun is always shining. :-)

Goodness

From today:

Ethel, laying by the pool in her bathingsuit, knitting and humming along to her praise music.  I wanna be like her when I'm a Grandma.

These words said to me: "You smell like Coconut Creme Pie." Even if it was from the bulgey-eyed man in the thrift store that got a bit close.

All the people wearing overalls in the ceramics room.

Being reunited with all my old TEFL classmates.

Taking Sunshine to Diaperville and Pottyland and The Enchanted Toothbrush Forest, like they were theme parks, and singing gospel with her.

Things to remember:

The words in this song.

We don't have the most loveliest of voices but

we do have the most loveliest of God.

Beg Steal or Borrow

I still have many, many questions.

Simple ones, even, like "Now that I am out of bed, what am I supposed to do?" But as life unfolds itself, I am starting to understand it a bit; it's not so much what we choose to do, but who we are doing so.  I think one of my struggles is always wanting to see everything as poetry. I'm constantly translating everything I see or hear so that my heart can understand it in a beautiful, or sentimental or idealistic way.  For now, I don't mind keeping things inside my head.  There have been times where I felt my spirit screamed for a soul to share things with.  But for now, I am content waiting and enjoying the thoughts as they ramble across my mind, in the quietness and tranquility of my spirit.  There's this verse that talks about "Mary treasuring these things up in her heart".  Well, it's kind of like that.

(On another note: I'm glad my Dad listens to bluegrass pandora as he sits next to me)