I am so much like the Nephites it scares me.
I so easily forget the works of God in my life. I recognize and appreciate them at first, inspired by this revelation from God. But then just as quickly, I am swayed to questioning even His existence. Then God makes himself known once more and I am repentant. Then I deny him again.
The process repeats itself over and over.
I will say that I take comfort in the fact that I know I am not perfect, I am human, I sin. But it still amazes me at just how unappreciative I can be sometimes, how easily I forget the beauty and truth.
one of my favorite live videos of Mr. Charles
Oh, and I'm going to try this new thing where I change my blog header picture almost every time I post a new blog. So right now, I'm using a picture of my wife from another life, Paulette Goddard.
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Merry Christmas
Christmas came and went.
And I barely caught it's warm breath against my foggy window.
But I had a few moments of clarity when I realized how many beautiful people I've been blessed with in my life.
My grandma sat taking in all the grandkids ripping apart their Christmas gifts, a wide toothy smile spread across her wise face. The laugh lines peaked at the corners of her grin and she looked at all of us with a genuine appreciation and love.
My grandpa walked around with a gentle smile and picked up the pieces of shredded wrapping paper.
On Christmas morning, I felt out of place. For the first time in as long as I can remember, it didn't feel like Christmas. The warm rain pattering against my windshield didn't help either as I drove my sister to church. I walked past a man offering passing families a "Merry Christmas!" and I didn't stop to acknowledge the kindness and joy of the man. I walked into the magnificence of Mother of God Church and didn't bother taking in all the beautiful decorations and floor to ceiling stained glass I had seen so many Christmas's before. The amazing chorus of voices and the full accompanying band did nothing for me. These things I had always taken a moment to appreciate and attribute to the beauty of Christmas.
I was not mad, I simply dwelled on this thought that it didn't feel like Christmas and I closed my eyes to all of the grace of Christmas.
The service proceeded like normal. Like every other Christmas service I'd been to here since I was a small child.
The homily came around.
The opening words were, "God does not reveal himself in fireworks, in grand phenomenons and epic occurrences. He comes to us in the form of a baby. Of a small child. That is how God makes himself known."
I was humbled. I didn't have some grand epiphany. I sat back and listened. I listened and I heard. And that was the most beautiful part of my Christmas.
And I barely caught it's warm breath against my foggy window.
But I had a few moments of clarity when I realized how many beautiful people I've been blessed with in my life.
My grandma sat taking in all the grandkids ripping apart their Christmas gifts, a wide toothy smile spread across her wise face. The laugh lines peaked at the corners of her grin and she looked at all of us with a genuine appreciation and love.
My grandpa walked around with a gentle smile and picked up the pieces of shredded wrapping paper.
On Christmas morning, I felt out of place. For the first time in as long as I can remember, it didn't feel like Christmas. The warm rain pattering against my windshield didn't help either as I drove my sister to church. I walked past a man offering passing families a "Merry Christmas!" and I didn't stop to acknowledge the kindness and joy of the man. I walked into the magnificence of Mother of God Church and didn't bother taking in all the beautiful decorations and floor to ceiling stained glass I had seen so many Christmas's before. The amazing chorus of voices and the full accompanying band did nothing for me. These things I had always taken a moment to appreciate and attribute to the beauty of Christmas.
I was not mad, I simply dwelled on this thought that it didn't feel like Christmas and I closed my eyes to all of the grace of Christmas.
The service proceeded like normal. Like every other Christmas service I'd been to here since I was a small child.
The homily came around.
The opening words were, "God does not reveal himself in fireworks, in grand phenomenons and epic occurrences. He comes to us in the form of a baby. Of a small child. That is how God makes himself known."
I was humbled. I didn't have some grand epiphany. I sat back and listened. I listened and I heard. And that was the most beautiful part of my Christmas.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
7:48 AM
I was up before my alarm, my eyes half-open slits that focused on nothing in particular. I pulled the blankets closer to my chin and anxiously awaited the clamorous pulsing when the clock hits 8.
7:49 AM
I traced my eyes along the chipped walls of the room. The blackout curtain swayed a bit with the steady breeze from the window that would not close completely. The daylight crept through the ends it didn't quite cover, the light dancing on the ceiling. I watched the dance for quite some time, my mind blank, eyes flickering back and forth capturing the intricate designs of the shadows and the ballet of the sun rays. Thoughts detached from my dreamlike state suddenly passed through my mind at a slow but steady pace. Reality.
Something I wasn't prepared to face before the alarm sounded. I unwillingly gave my thoughts over to its seductive powers:
7:55 AM
How are you going to make thisworkout. You really need to startonthatproject. Howmuchlonger are you going to putitoff. Ifitsmeanttohappenitwillhappenthingswillworkoutyouonlyhavea
fewmoredaystogetalythatgameshewantedyouneedto
emailjenniferaboutintegrativestudiesifitsmeantto
happenitwillhappen.
7:57 AM
I clamp my eyes closed and try to block the thoughts out...
7:58 AM
Don'tseemsoneedyitdbenicetomakeashortwithalainanandalywhen
yourehomewhenareyougoinghomeshessuchabeautifulsoulandsolovelyand
genuineineedtofinishthetakehomeexambeforemondayandthenturnitin
rememberhesaidtodoitbyemail
7:somethingitscloseyouneedtogetupearlieryouregetting
toclassalittlelateeachdayijustlikebeingaroundherthisblanketistoobigand
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
I throw the covers off and promptly turn the alarm off. I bring my hands to my face and push my fingers through my hair. Slumped forward, I sit, my mind a swirl of thoughts. The illumination slowly catches the furthest corner of my eye and look up to see a strobe of sun rays flickering against my curtain. The light flickers constantly, the ballet on my ceiling now replaced with a fast-paced mambo.
I jump out of bed and slowly pull the curtain away from the window. A burst of light blinds me momentarily and slowly a beautiful site comes into focus.
Hundreds of birds float past my window. The masses created an intricate filter for the sun to pass through. The light flickered against my unflinching eyes. The flow never ceased, there seemed to be an infinite amount of these birds. All thought was lost and I stood still. And suddenly they were gone. I was struck by the beauty of the moment. I opened the window and let the cold winter air touch my face. My body and mind were still and I was able to think clearly. I thanked God for the moment. Reassurance flooded my heart.
8:04 AM
7:49 AM
I traced my eyes along the chipped walls of the room. The blackout curtain swayed a bit with the steady breeze from the window that would not close completely. The daylight crept through the ends it didn't quite cover, the light dancing on the ceiling. I watched the dance for quite some time, my mind blank, eyes flickering back and forth capturing the intricate designs of the shadows and the ballet of the sun rays. Thoughts detached from my dreamlike state suddenly passed through my mind at a slow but steady pace. Reality.
Something I wasn't prepared to face before the alarm sounded. I unwillingly gave my thoughts over to its seductive powers:
7:55 AM
How are you going to make thisworkout. You really need to startonthatproject. Howmuchlonger are you going to putitoff. Ifitsmeanttohappenitwillhappenthingswillworkoutyouonlyhavea
fewmoredaystogetalythatgameshewantedyouneedto
emailjenniferaboutintegrativestudiesifitsmeantto
happenitwillhappen.
7:57 AM
I clamp my eyes closed and try to block the thoughts out...
7:58 AM
Don'tseemsoneedyitdbenicetomakeashortwithalainanandalywhen
yourehomewhenareyougoinghomeshessuchabeautifulsoulandsolovelyand
genuineineedtofinishthetakehomeexambeforemondayandthenturnitin
rememberhesaidtodoitbyemail
7:somethingitscloseyouneedtogetupearlieryouregetting
toclassalittlelateeachdayijustlikebeingaroundherthisblanketistoobigand
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
I throw the covers off and promptly turn the alarm off. I bring my hands to my face and push my fingers through my hair. Slumped forward, I sit, my mind a swirl of thoughts. The illumination slowly catches the furthest corner of my eye and look up to see a strobe of sun rays flickering against my curtain. The light flickers constantly, the ballet on my ceiling now replaced with a fast-paced mambo.
I jump out of bed and slowly pull the curtain away from the window. A burst of light blinds me momentarily and slowly a beautiful site comes into focus.
Hundreds of birds float past my window. The masses created an intricate filter for the sun to pass through. The light flickered against my unflinching eyes. The flow never ceased, there seemed to be an infinite amount of these birds. All thought was lost and I stood still. And suddenly they were gone. I was struck by the beauty of the moment. I opened the window and let the cold winter air touch my face. My body and mind were still and I was able to think clearly. I thanked God for the moment. Reassurance flooded my heart.
8:04 AM
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Zeitoun
An excerpt from Dave Eggers, Zeitoun:
"He had been on a tanker once, maybe twenty years earlier, navigating through the Philippines. It was late, after midnight, and Zeitoun was keeping the captain company on the bridge.
To stay awake and alert, the captain, a Greek man of middle age, liked to take up provocative subjects. He knew that Zeitoun was a Muslim and a thoughtful man, so he sparked a debate about the existence of God. The captain began by expressing his utter conviction that there was no God, no deity in the sky watching over the human world.
Zeitoun had been on the bridge with the captain for an hour at that point, watching him pilot the ship through the many islands, avoiding high shelves and sandbars, other ships and countless unseen dangers. The Philippines, with over seven thousand islands but only five hundred lighthouses, was known for its frequency of maritime accidents.
"What would happen," Zeitoun asked the captain, "if you and I went below the deck, and just went to our bedrooms and went to sleep?"
The captain gave him a quizzical look and answered that the ship would most certainly hit something-would run aground or into a reef. In any event, disaster.
"So without a captain, the ship cannot navigate."
"Yes," the captain said, "Whats's your point?"
Zeitoun smiled. "Look above you, at the stars and the moon. How do the stars keep their place in the sky, how does the moon rotate around the earth, the earth around the sun? Who's navigating?"
The captain smiled at Zeitoun. He'd been led into a trap.
"Without someone guiding us," Zeitoun finished, "wouldn't the stars and moon fall to earth, wouldn't the oceans overrun the land? Any vessel, any carrier of humans, needs a captain, yes?"
The captain was taken with the beauty of the metaphor, and let his silence imply surrender."
"He had been on a tanker once, maybe twenty years earlier, navigating through the Philippines. It was late, after midnight, and Zeitoun was keeping the captain company on the bridge.
To stay awake and alert, the captain, a Greek man of middle age, liked to take up provocative subjects. He knew that Zeitoun was a Muslim and a thoughtful man, so he sparked a debate about the existence of God. The captain began by expressing his utter conviction that there was no God, no deity in the sky watching over the human world.
Zeitoun had been on the bridge with the captain for an hour at that point, watching him pilot the ship through the many islands, avoiding high shelves and sandbars, other ships and countless unseen dangers. The Philippines, with over seven thousand islands but only five hundred lighthouses, was known for its frequency of maritime accidents.
"What would happen," Zeitoun asked the captain, "if you and I went below the deck, and just went to our bedrooms and went to sleep?"
The captain gave him a quizzical look and answered that the ship would most certainly hit something-would run aground or into a reef. In any event, disaster.
"So without a captain, the ship cannot navigate."
"Yes," the captain said, "Whats's your point?"
Zeitoun smiled. "Look above you, at the stars and the moon. How do the stars keep their place in the sky, how does the moon rotate around the earth, the earth around the sun? Who's navigating?"
The captain smiled at Zeitoun. He'd been led into a trap.
"Without someone guiding us," Zeitoun finished, "wouldn't the stars and moon fall to earth, wouldn't the oceans overrun the land? Any vessel, any carrier of humans, needs a captain, yes?"
The captain was taken with the beauty of the metaphor, and let his silence imply surrender."
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Restless
Silent chaos pushed against every inch of my body. I winced at a pain that was not there. In a daze I found my running clothes and shoes.
Restlessness pummeled my stagnant blue veins with the ferocity of a champion heavyweight. The souls* of my feet left the pavement anxiously. Fresh exhaust from lawn mowers and minivans overtook the heat waves jumping into my nostrils. Trim lawns and the smell of fresh cut grass left a bitter taste in my mouth. I wanted out. It wasn't some cry into the night, "I need to find a road out of the suburbs!". No, this was an unrelenting bar fighter in his drunken state, battering the inner walls of my stomach, building calluses for the next fight.
In my subconscious, I was not tired of my life. I have a strong love for both my family and friends. I do not have a stressful job. I did not hate the streets I lived on. I love to live with a passion that makes me appreciate all that I have. I hold some undeserved God-given knack for finding beauty in any context. I still saw beauty in the 5 sunflowers that managed to break through worn out soil in my backyard. I still saw beauty in the children running in uncontrolled bliss from house to house. I still saw the beauty in the old couples walking at dusk.
But that bar fighter continues his turbulent blows. And I am left wanting to continue running on that path, right on out past the other developments, past the gas stations and trucks stops, past the interstates and rest stops.
I have a reoccurring thought...Where ever I end up, the people and the places will all eventually be the same. It shows up in one part of my mind. This thought does not scare me. In fact, it propels me. It only increases that curious drive inside of me. Another half of me expects everything to be refreshingly different. I have faith in my self that I will never let myself get too comfortable in my surroundings. I have only been idle for two days and already I am ready to jump back in, camera in hand, beads of sweat on my brow.
I push myself harder. My legs take me to a big hill on the road and I begin to run faster. My mind shifts from the pavement to the sky. Abba, Father, God, make me dismiss thoughts of stopping at the halfway point, make me run far past the top of the hill. Be in my aching joints, my restless mind, my nervous fingertips, my stagnant blue veins.
I hope that bar fighter never leaves.
Restlessness pummeled my stagnant blue veins with the ferocity of a champion heavyweight. The souls* of my feet left the pavement anxiously. Fresh exhaust from lawn mowers and minivans overtook the heat waves jumping into my nostrils. Trim lawns and the smell of fresh cut grass left a bitter taste in my mouth. I wanted out. It wasn't some cry into the night, "I need to find a road out of the suburbs!". No, this was an unrelenting bar fighter in his drunken state, battering the inner walls of my stomach, building calluses for the next fight.
In my subconscious, I was not tired of my life. I have a strong love for both my family and friends. I do not have a stressful job. I did not hate the streets I lived on. I love to live with a passion that makes me appreciate all that I have. I hold some undeserved God-given knack for finding beauty in any context. I still saw beauty in the 5 sunflowers that managed to break through worn out soil in my backyard. I still saw beauty in the children running in uncontrolled bliss from house to house. I still saw the beauty in the old couples walking at dusk.
But that bar fighter continues his turbulent blows. And I am left wanting to continue running on that path, right on out past the other developments, past the gas stations and trucks stops, past the interstates and rest stops.
I have a reoccurring thought...Where ever I end up, the people and the places will all eventually be the same. It shows up in one part of my mind. This thought does not scare me. In fact, it propels me. It only increases that curious drive inside of me. Another half of me expects everything to be refreshingly different. I have faith in my self that I will never let myself get too comfortable in my surroundings. I have only been idle for two days and already I am ready to jump back in, camera in hand, beads of sweat on my brow.
I push myself harder. My legs take me to a big hill on the road and I begin to run faster. My mind shifts from the pavement to the sky. Abba, Father, God, make me dismiss thoughts of stopping at the halfway point, make me run far past the top of the hill. Be in my aching joints, my restless mind, my nervous fingertips, my stagnant blue veins.
I hope that bar fighter never leaves.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Abandoned Summer
The clear plastic "G" sat in the passenger seat next to me. "Try Our 3 New Angus Choices" was now "Try Our 3 New Anus Choices". We sped away from the McDonalds like idiot teenagers on a midnight ride.
Something was in the air that night. Youth, if that's what you want to call it, was running in the gutters. The angst we thought we had all lost came rushing back like a shot in the night.
I struggled to hear the conversation Brian and Alex were having in the front of the car. The melodic music of someone I had never heard was absorbed by the back of my head. I gave up on trying to enter the conversation and instead sat back and looked out the window. We passed streets I had passed many times and old back-roads I seldom turned down. I saw flashes of memories that once controlled my mind. Incidents and people who now seemed foreign...something my mind tends to do with the past. The sounds of the car and the music and the voices seemed to twine together as one in a beautiful symphony of life. The dark marks on my shorts continued on to the top of the tan line on my knee. I was reminded of what took place earlier that night and smiled to myself...I let myself slip into the fresh memory...
Brian and I jumped out the car, me fumbling with my shoes on the way out. Alex sped the car up and we both darted towards the sudden red neon. Brian jumped on the front hood and I climbed on the back windshield, my hands finding their way through the open window to the interior handles in the roof of the car, locked in anxious excitement. I looked around nervously, the newly finished residential road spotted with a few homes under construction. Movement pushed my body against the car. Dirt from the back of the car left streaks on my leg and pants. Alex hastily turned up the soundtrack to the escapade and sped down the road.
I had the better end of the car, Brian slid around the hood laughing and screaming until Alex sprayed windshield wiper fluid in his face. Then there was mostly screaming. I leaned my stomach against the back, lifting my hands free into the wind. I shouted into the sky, closing my eyes and wishing the wind would lift me into the the stratosphere. The car lurched and I was pushed to the roof of the car. I questioned our childish actions for a moment but let myself fall back into youth. I rested my head on the roof and stared at the blur of houses and streetlights. Life is so simple in moments like this. It was all clear, set out before me. It happened again, it hadn't happened in a long time...In the rush of the wind and music and laughing I saw the face of God. Then the car stopped and it was my turn to ride the front.
...I managed to hear talk of some girl Brian was interested in through the symphony of sounds. He needed a good girl. If anyone deserved one it was Brian. I wanted one too.
I finished off the rest of the Mexican Coca-Cola we bought and watched my shadow dance against the opposing car door fabric. I noticed my silhouette and saw myself in a way no mirror had ever reflected. I saw my wants, I saw my desires, I saw my friends, I saw my faith, I saw my family, I saw love. Gratitude trickled down my spine, collecting at my fingertips, numbing my mind. I closed my eyes.
Something was in the air that night. Youth, if that's what you want to call it, was running in the gutters. The angst we thought we had all lost came rushing back like a shot in the night.
I struggled to hear the conversation Brian and Alex were having in the front of the car. The melodic music of someone I had never heard was absorbed by the back of my head. I gave up on trying to enter the conversation and instead sat back and looked out the window. We passed streets I had passed many times and old back-roads I seldom turned down. I saw flashes of memories that once controlled my mind. Incidents and people who now seemed foreign...something my mind tends to do with the past. The sounds of the car and the music and the voices seemed to twine together as one in a beautiful symphony of life. The dark marks on my shorts continued on to the top of the tan line on my knee. I was reminded of what took place earlier that night and smiled to myself...I let myself slip into the fresh memory...
Brian and I jumped out the car, me fumbling with my shoes on the way out. Alex sped the car up and we both darted towards the sudden red neon. Brian jumped on the front hood and I climbed on the back windshield, my hands finding their way through the open window to the interior handles in the roof of the car, locked in anxious excitement. I looked around nervously, the newly finished residential road spotted with a few homes under construction. Movement pushed my body against the car. Dirt from the back of the car left streaks on my leg and pants. Alex hastily turned up the soundtrack to the escapade and sped down the road.
I had the better end of the car, Brian slid around the hood laughing and screaming until Alex sprayed windshield wiper fluid in his face. Then there was mostly screaming. I leaned my stomach against the back, lifting my hands free into the wind. I shouted into the sky, closing my eyes and wishing the wind would lift me into the the stratosphere. The car lurched and I was pushed to the roof of the car. I questioned our childish actions for a moment but let myself fall back into youth. I rested my head on the roof and stared at the blur of houses and streetlights. Life is so simple in moments like this. It was all clear, set out before me. It happened again, it hadn't happened in a long time...In the rush of the wind and music and laughing I saw the face of God. Then the car stopped and it was my turn to ride the front.
...I managed to hear talk of some girl Brian was interested in through the symphony of sounds. He needed a good girl. If anyone deserved one it was Brian. I wanted one too.
I finished off the rest of the Mexican Coca-Cola we bought and watched my shadow dance against the opposing car door fabric. I noticed my silhouette and saw myself in a way no mirror had ever reflected. I saw my wants, I saw my desires, I saw my friends, I saw my faith, I saw my family, I saw love. Gratitude trickled down my spine, collecting at my fingertips, numbing my mind. I closed my eyes.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Notes from a Drive Home
And all at once, the world became this beautifully methodical sequence of events.
The neon of the gas signs were bokeh city lights and the tire treads on the roadside shook like red autumn leaves as cars swiftly passed. A sparrow flew in sync with my car gliding with the warm summer breeze. A line of cars made their way towards me in the opposite lane, their headlights dim lanterns in the evening horizon.
Horse girl rode her bike along the path. Horse girl was a small girl about the age of my sister who always rides her bike up to the pasture to feed the horses baby carrots. Every time I see her, she waits patiently at the gate, the horses ignoring her off in the distance. This time she rode with satisfaction spread across her face, a crumpled baggie bunched in her fist. The horses had been close enough to feed this time.
I saw the face of God in the deep oranges and purples of a particularly well defined cloud. The golden rays gushed into the off-set blues and greys. Heaven had made itself evident tonight.
The world was putting on a show. A revival of sorts. The scenes and characters were all the same - all too familiar episodes of life I pass on a daily basis without taking a second glance. But today, it was being revisioned. I was watching a masterpiece. It was cinema in its purest form. The discolored fabric car seat and cool air conditioning my theatre, the windshield my silver screen.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/austindressman
The neon of the gas signs were bokeh city lights and the tire treads on the roadside shook like red autumn leaves as cars swiftly passed. A sparrow flew in sync with my car gliding with the warm summer breeze. A line of cars made their way towards me in the opposite lane, their headlights dim lanterns in the evening horizon.
Horse girl rode her bike along the path. Horse girl was a small girl about the age of my sister who always rides her bike up to the pasture to feed the horses baby carrots. Every time I see her, she waits patiently at the gate, the horses ignoring her off in the distance. This time she rode with satisfaction spread across her face, a crumpled baggie bunched in her fist. The horses had been close enough to feed this time.
I saw the face of God in the deep oranges and purples of a particularly well defined cloud. The golden rays gushed into the off-set blues and greys. Heaven had made itself evident tonight.
The world was putting on a show. A revival of sorts. The scenes and characters were all the same - all too familiar episodes of life I pass on a daily basis without taking a second glance. But today, it was being revisioned. I was watching a masterpiece. It was cinema in its purest form. The discolored fabric car seat and cool air conditioning my theatre, the windshield my silver screen.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/austindressman
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Speeding Tickets are Terrible Reminders of How Little Money You Have to Your Name
I don't care what belief, non-belief, denomination, theory you have. I just don't understand how some people believe there is no higher power.
I was walking through campus today and just the simple beauty of lightly falling snow was enough to push any doubt of God's nonexistence out of my mind. I find myself experiencing these humbling reminders throughout the day. Sometimes I go a few days without thinking about it, too wrapped up in my own head to appreciate anything or anyone's beauty. But it always happens eventually. And it's one of my favorite parts of being alive.
Whether you're Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, Sikh, Jewish, or any other spiritual view, I think we as human beings can all appreciate it the same way, under God. I consider myself a Christian-Catholic, but it's a universal recognition.
There has to be a creator. How else could the human race be able to internalize and recognize such simple splendor as dying leaves on trees (fall) or in creating a friendship or relationship with someone. There is some other power at work. I love this quote I heard recently:
"I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt."
I've been viewing the world in a new mindset recently, trying to get in touch with my naive side. I want to experience some things for the first time again. I've seen a person laugh hundreds of thousands of times before. But when was the last time I really appreciated it. That exuberant outburst of joy. It's so great.
I know, I probably sound ridiculous right now, but I don't care. We get too wrapped up in our lives to appreciate the raw beauty of the world we live in. I can't imagine what it would be like if I was never able to see someone laugh again. Or cry, or fall, or dance, or sing, or make awkward small talk. I just realized how much I take it all for granted.
Call this some incandescent youthful realization, call it whatever you like. Just remember the simple things you take for granted.
It's too easy to be cynical and discerning in this world. That's how I am most of the time. Lately, I've been trying to make sure there is an equal amount of positivity in my viewing of the world.
...or, this all could just be result of the new Andrew Bird album I've been listening to constantly. Go. Listen to it now.
I was walking through campus today and just the simple beauty of lightly falling snow was enough to push any doubt of God's nonexistence out of my mind. I find myself experiencing these humbling reminders throughout the day. Sometimes I go a few days without thinking about it, too wrapped up in my own head to appreciate anything or anyone's beauty. But it always happens eventually. And it's one of my favorite parts of being alive.
Whether you're Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, Sikh, Jewish, or any other spiritual view, I think we as human beings can all appreciate it the same way, under God. I consider myself a Christian-Catholic, but it's a universal recognition.
There has to be a creator. How else could the human race be able to internalize and recognize such simple splendor as dying leaves on trees (fall) or in creating a friendship or relationship with someone. There is some other power at work. I love this quote I heard recently:
"I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt."
I've been viewing the world in a new mindset recently, trying to get in touch with my naive side. I want to experience some things for the first time again. I've seen a person laugh hundreds of thousands of times before. But when was the last time I really appreciated it. That exuberant outburst of joy. It's so great.
I know, I probably sound ridiculous right now, but I don't care. We get too wrapped up in our lives to appreciate the raw beauty of the world we live in. I can't imagine what it would be like if I was never able to see someone laugh again. Or cry, or fall, or dance, or sing, or make awkward small talk. I just realized how much I take it all for granted.
Call this some incandescent youthful realization, call it whatever you like. Just remember the simple things you take for granted.
It's too easy to be cynical and discerning in this world. That's how I am most of the time. Lately, I've been trying to make sure there is an equal amount of positivity in my viewing of the world.
...or, this all could just be result of the new Andrew Bird album I've been listening to constantly. Go. Listen to it now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
