Ancient Snippets 01

Two days ago I was reading through my old journals because I believe that remembering where I've been is essential to moving forward. I found some thoughts that struck me and left me wondering where this younger version of me went.

"God has been chasing me. In my fear and ignorance I resist, holding out as though my deliverer is my captor. As I learn to breathe again I let go of the fear that separates me from the love my father has for me. If only I could love as he did. If only I could look at another and see what he sees, without needing to ask forgiveness and then look again, then... then I believe I would know, truly, what "abundant life" is."

"...And despite our rebellious tantrums, God's love loves on, frustrating our feeble attempts to prove to the almighty that we are in no need of his enduring affection."

"Life's most intimate moments are sometimes the most quiet and reserved, lacking glitz, glam, and the recognition of man."

"Beauty radiates; Shining from the most secret places. The glistening of an eye, the joy of exuberant laughter, the kindness of touch"

Unassuming Love

I've been feeling really discouraged lately.
In the midst of everything

there is doubt.

inescapable
suffocating
overwhelming

And yet?

There is grace.

I'm currently talking with one of my former employees from the cafe.
She is great; one of those people and employees you just want around
all the time

Well, she's busy with school and an internship so I basically told her could come back to work "whenever"

She really is that great!

We haven't seen or talked since before I was laid off.
And so now she knows.

And here's where it's important to not overlook God's grace and love.
Because sometimes, they can be hidden.

She said to me, minutes ago, after I explained I was a little worried about my closely approaching future:

"...when I was sick, long story short, the infection i had sent random pains throughout my legs so bad I couldn't walk good for awile and I thought of you, how you have that every day of your life and how you never complained and were so positive...that really helped. so hang in there! I think you're a really strong person and I admired you for that.

I think you probly touch alot of lives without knowing just being YOU!"

...

and moments later? She says, unprompted and out of nowhere,

"so I think you should be a writer."



Thank you, God, for the
reminders
small and unassuming as they can be,
that You love me and are involved and invested into my life.

...From the Journal

Every once in a while I start writing with one thing in mind and end up somewhere drastically different. I find this to be both frustrating and good. I'm a bit shocked at where my writing took me this evening and I'd like to share it with you. Maybe you'll find encouragement here. Or maybe it'll spark an idea or thought worth chewing on.

This is from my journal and for that reason, you're only getting part of the "entry."
___
"...In comparison, though, my prayer then was much lengthier than many of my prayers recently. My short prayers are not because I don't want to interact with God, but because I find myself at a loss for the words themselves to fill a lengthier prayer. And the words I do find? Well, they are drowning in a quiet grief.

And now two days have passed. And honestly? The words are still few and the few are still coated with very real sorrow. Surprisingly, though,

There is hope.

Its source unclear
I'm not even sure when it showed up
Or what brought it here

But here it is.

And I am encouraged.

Not because I know everything will be okay, because I can't know that. And while the unknown grips my soul tight like a pirate would his treasure, I am still encouraged. Why?

I am loved.

And although to be loved doesn't mean I am free from trials and it certainly doesn't protect me from suffering, it does stand close by. Much like, I imagine, a parent who watches their crawler become a toddler. A parent knows that if they don't step back and give their little one space, they will never take those first steps. So they step back from their precious child, the one that bears their image in looks and personality, and hold out their arms cooing, "come on, you can do it." Knowing that if their little one goes for it, risks it, and ventures over to them, it will be a moment the parent will never forget and the little one's life will never be the same.

While I can't say for sure that this is what God is doing, because I am finite, but if he is waiting for me to waddle my way over to his eager hands, he is also doing so much more than simply loving me forward. Because here is the truth: as much as he loves me, he loves all of creation just as much. Ultimately, my change and growth is meant to help others and change and grow so that overs can change and grow. It's really, truly, not about me. And so this... this, whatever it is or will become, can not only grow and mold me, but this can bring redemption and healing and hope and light and freedom and peace to a world that on its bravest of days is trembling beneath the covers, too afraid to get a glimpse of what really lays beyond their cotton shield.

And, if that would be... could be the outcome?

I'm okay with this."
___

Grace + Peace

Back in the Zone

Hey, Friends!

It's been a while since I've written anything of substance. Here's why: I've been sick. I'm happy to report (really, really happy, in fact) that I'm feeling much better (I've been up since 9:30am and haven't had an overpowering urge to sleep all day. Woot! Go me.) and am returning my pen-to-paper this evening.

Other random life events include: someone using my credit card in Australia. Fabulous. So my account is frozen and the charges (which are in the triple digits) are in dispute with my bank.

Also (see below): the false appendicitis alarm at 130am from my little sister.

It's been a great, adventurous, week my friends.

There are several pieces of literature that I have in process.

The two I am most excited about are...

---The Adventures of Spork...
[the candid telling of the journeys of a spork that thinks he's batman,
his dueling sidekicks, and the evil expired gallon of milk, they war against]

---Fear and Hope (yet to be named)
[something a bit less... batman]

So, as I said before: wait with me.

Excited to be back in the zone,

Ashlove

[patience]

I'm working on something.

It's coming.

Wait with me.

they glisten no more

The shift from fall to winter is nearly complete.

The leaves whose colors warmed my soul and made not smiling impossible are now a sort of disappointment. They no longer glisten as they did, just days ago, as we move away from the warmth and light of the sun. And the forecast for my area is essentially the final nail in the coffin: Goodbye, sun... fall... quiet times beneath trees; hello grayness, snow, ice, and snowmen. What does the next few days hold for us? Rain. And after that? Snow. And more snow. And more snow.

But I'm not sure I could do a Christmas season without snow. The idea just doesn't seem right.

I've been writing more. Inspired by those around me and their outstanding creativity and insight. And I'm thinking about writing children's books based off some of my short stories. It would be fun.

When Life Gives You Pineapples...

Hi. It's Wednesday.

I was grumpy this AM and feeling a bit... "AHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Realizing I had a choice how to respond to how I was feeling, I wanted to do something about it...

But before I could do anything about my attitude, I needed to figure out exactly what I was feeling.

No emotion seemed to fit.

I think in pictures. After a bit, the picture of a pineapple came to mind. And then I came up with this sentence... and it made me smile. It fits my on-goings and my mood perfectly... and helped me laugh at life's little AHHH!'s.

Enjoy my cynical brilliance:

When life gives you a pineapple you... wait... what the hell do I need a pineapple for?


-Ashlove

And it shall be called...

Currently Listening To: Gregorian Chant =-) It's pretty. And way relaxing.

There are some days where I think about writing something and then don't. It's usually these nights that I am struck with insomnia. It's like the ideas inside my head are begging, pleading to be released. They bounce around my mind like a billion little Mexican jumping beans and I can't find rest until I put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard, in this case). Such is the case tonight. All day (since about 10am, anyway) I've been marinating in a thought. All day it's been rolling around my brain and prancing through my soul. So here I am. I will fight it no more: I am finally surrendering to it in the wee hours of the morning.

Truth be told, I much prefer writing with pen and paper. For me, the keyboard limits my expression. Sure, I am a writer and words are the colors with which I paint my masterpieces, but if you were to look through my journal you would discover just as many childish doodles as you would words. If I get trapped looking for a word to describe the picture in my mind (I think in moving pictures), I doodle. If a preoccupation distracts me from my thought process, I doodle my way back. In my journal I write sideways and in different sizes and shapes and boldnesses. The look of my writing often conveys as much, or more, emotion and thought as do the words themselves. The keyboard? Well, it's so drab, so methodical...

Tonight, though, I've chosen to write what I've been marinating in here on this blog with the methodical keyboard because I'm wondering if what I'm thinking through is something someone else out there could relate to; maybe it will help. Maybe someone will disagree. Or maybe it will simply get someone thinking. It seems to me that all of these outcomes are worthy of my sharing with the ambiguous "you" this early morn. If I may, I am offering up a preemptive apology if this doesn't flow all that well. It is late, and despite the insomnia, I am tired. Thanks for the grace!

Ready?

Here we go...

Can I be honest? Labels frustrate the heck out of me. In fact, they genuinely piss me off. Now don't get me wrong: I know we need labels on things like soup cans and cereal boxes and wasp killer spray, but if there's one place labels don't belong it's on a human being. It's not that all labels are bad. If they describe some arbitrary trait (tall, skinny, bright) they can be extremely helpful, but most labels don't stop there. They don't merely describe some arbitrary fact, they often connote worth and value; they become a part of a person's identity.

Slow
Lazy
Emotional
Fake
Cripple
Gimp
Burden
Irrational
Impulsive
Indecisive
Controlling
Cold
Screw up
Messy

At one time or another, in word or action, someone somewhere labeled me a few of these. It's very probable that you can relate to them, as well. And most likely the labels you were given are affecting you, even today. Someone told you one time too many that you are too controlling so you've accepted the label and have lived up to that expectation. Or maybe you were told you're not athletic enough and you eventually listened and quit playing volleyball, even for fun.

For me, the labels slow, cripple, and burden are neatly tied up into one package with a deceivingly beautiful bow. Those of you who know me can understand why I would be slapped with such labels. When you roam around God's creation with a distinct groove such as mine, it doesn't go unnoticed. And when you don't go unnoticed, people pay attention, and when people pay attention, they first thing they often spot are the short comings; the ways in which you fail to meet their standards. Which brings me to my intense disdain for my labels and the inevitable discrimination they bring.

The point of this blog isn't to be a bitter, angry rant, but if I may for just a moment?

Discrimination sucks. It angers me ever so intensely. At my last job my boss told me flat out that I was a burden to him and should seek employment elsewhere. He then fired me for being late once two weeks after telling me that the one instance of lateness was no big deal. He is now fighting my unemployment claim. This angers me not just because it makes my life challenging, but because I know I am not the only one out there suffering labels from others that fail to respect the beauty of their life and to appreciate the good they do bring to the world. And it angers me because I know that they, like me, are struggling to feel valued and worthy, to feel like their life can have a real, good, impact on the world around them. They, too, have been told that they can't, that they aren't good enough, that they are too slow.

When I look at the Bible and see what it says about words and labels, we see that the characters handled words and labels (names) with amazing intention. The new testament says that there is the power of life and death in the tongue. In the old testament we see parents naming children with great meaning. God even goes so far to rename some of the most influential people in the Bible (Abram --> Abraham, Jacob --> Israel, Saul --> Paul), shaping their identity in the process. This leads me to believe that the words we speak to one another, the labels and beyond, are sooo important and should not be taken lightly.

Can we live in a society without labels? Probably not. Labels help us organize and make sense of the world around us. But as long as we must have labels, couldn't we at least have labels that inspire, labels that encourage and promote life?

The past couple weeks I've been looking for the labels that are on me, one way or another. I've been wondering, "Is this who I am? Does this really define me? Should it? What is the truth about me and my worth/value?"

You know what I've discovered? I am not a cripple or even a disabled person. I am human, just as you are human. Your true identity begins and ends in the fact that you were formed by a creative God who set His image upon you. We were created in the Imago Dei; Father, Son, Spirit. And I am working to make it so that is the only "label" I allow myself to wear. I hope you are able to do the same.

I once was ashamed of my anger, believing I was wrong for feeling this way. I once believed that I should accept the way the world was and simply try to get along unnoticed. It is clear to me now, more than ever, that I cannot go unnoticed. And more importantly? I believe that the anger I have is good. I believe it is good to be lovingly intolerant of abuse and discrimination. I believe it will enable me to take a stand against injustice that quenches life. I believe that this loving intolerance will give redemption hands and feet and will invite a bit of heaven to crash into earth.

You'd think that with no job and very little gas money, I'd be posting on here a bit more regularly. Instead of posting here I've been job hunting and reading.


Reading: I'm currently in the middle of two books.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
and
God on Mute

When I read, even for pleasure, I find myself underlining, taking notes and stopping to process.

... and editing...

I found some errors in one of the books last night and, without thinking, started editing it. Yeeeep.

Job Hunting: I applied for six jobs yesterday and will apply for 4 more today.

Forgiveness

(I'll admit, it's kinda lame. But every word is a heart-felt response to an event that occurred late Friday morning)

I wish it wasn’t 3am
so that the silence wasn’t deafening
And in friends and tasks and internet
My sorrow would be drowned
For on late nights like these
When the internet’s down
All my friends are resting and
My motivation’s gone
The haunting ache of loneliness
Comes with shame and hatred’s song

“FAILURE!”

“FAKE!”

“PHONEY!”

They scream, cutting to the core
And would be friends
Cause wounds too deep
Their venom’s left to steep
Blind guides shout heresies
And my fragile soul is shattered
Beneath their angry feet
For a moment I see the truth
Hidden behind a mask
One of hurt and wounds
Affecting every task
Anger fades as compassion returns
But precious trust is gone,
And a bleeding wound still here
Left for someone else to cure
In another time, another place
God will extend us both a grace
And in heaven we will heal

So tonight I let you go
Your failures, imperfections and fears
Away from my wrath
Held safely in God’s grasp

Momentum

Hi friends.

Just thought I'd let you all know that I'm gaining serious momentum in the realm of writing. I sit down, I think, it flows, I write. Pretty good system, if you ask me.

So, I'm focusing my energies on that (meaning less entries here, perhaps) and I am also looking for a couple (2) people that are creative and one that has a like-mind and one a bit varied from mine to look over and help me improve my paragraphs. I need you both to be gentle, but honest, and to remember that I am more about the spirit and message of a writing than I am about grammar and punctuation, so sometimes I break the rules intentionally. I need people who will be compassionate yet forward and who will seek to protect the essence of my work, just as I would.

I have no clue if any of this makes sense, but I am tired, so let's pretend it does.

Umm... so if you are willing, let me know.

I am confident... or am I prideful?

I'm wondering tonight. Wondering why... why?

I absolutely LOVE to write. It's one of my favorite activities. When I write I feel like I'm doing something significant; something that could, maybe, change the world. I have several encouragers who stroke my ego when I share things I've written, so I "know" I'm at least decent at my written communication.

Writing.

I'm not sure what I did to deserve such fans, nor why I am so skeptical of their praise. My good buddy Lindsey and I hung out this afternoon and she started teaching me the art of video editing. This made me very happy. I've long told Lindsey I was "one day going to write a book," and we haven't hung out since I'd actually begun this endeavor, so I read some of my stuff to her. Lindsey instantly demanded that we record my writings in video format.

We spent the evening doing just that. She wants to do a series of such things. And we'll probably re-record what we did tonight because I had no time to memorize ANY of it and I spent a lot of time reading instead of communicating.

We found ourselves at the Well later on and I was explaining this to Jordan, and he was like, "You have some pretty fantastic stuff on your blog that you should use, too." (I have myself a hidden blog... hehehehehe...) What gets me is that I know I'm a good writer. Most of the time when I'm writing I can say, "I did pretty good on this." And, if I know it's less than stellar, I can say, "Yeah, this one pretty much stunk."

I don't write about stuff in theory, but I don't water it down. My stuff is easy to understand, but deep and very thoughtful. I don't say this to be arrogant, but writing is an area of my life where I can say, with unwavering confidence, that I am gifted and will be used if I can discern the correct avenue and format for what I hope to accomplish.

I'm torn, though. Am I being prideful in saying the things above?

s c a t t e r - b r a i n e d

It was brought to my attention that yesterday's post was slightly manic.

My apologies to those of you who know I can actually write, and write well.

I suppose it goes to show that writing at 1:30am on random thoughts isn't always the best way to communicate clearly.

For those wondering, the post is all one topic- the need to see your worth apart from human affirmation and actions. There are several different, relevant, facets to this issue, and I see that I did a less than stellar job connecting my points and meshing them into a cohesive case.

And just in case you feel the need to suggest that I edit my writings, know this: I did, in fact, edit yesterday's post. As a result of my editing, you were spared mistakes such as "it brakes my heart..."

Yep. Rest assured, (I've grown fond of that phrase, I think.) I am striving to become more careful and intentional with regards to my written communication. I am, after all, writing a book! :-)

Fear- part 1: a journal of loose ends

The unexpected. That's what my group of friends should be called. Seriously, we managed to get 9 people to my place for dinner, in a snow storm, in just 5 hours. The last of them (Jordan & Aza) just left about 20 minutes ago. I await a phone call from Aza to confirm that he & Jordan both made it home safely.

It amazes me, what God is capable of when we let Him work. Tonight there was a lot of unspoken tension in my house (which I will start calling "the haven" because it serves as one without hesitation to so many of my dear friends). The boys (Jordan & Aza) left to go get soy sauce and I called it out of the shadows. There was definitely a huge white elephant in the room. What resulted was about 20 minutes of authentic conversation and 20 minutes of weeping prayer. We even had to lock the guys out to protect a couple of the girls from embarrassment. They took it like such gentlemen, and the rest of the evening we spent discussing various things... and dancing around my kitchen to Superchic[k]. :-)

One of the topics we brushed on a bit more heavily than the others was fear. Fear is a truly powerful emotion, and perhaps that is why we are reminded several times that we are not to fear; God, in is omniscient wisdom understands that when we feel fear we do not act as we would when we are in sound mind (the biblical replacement of fear and a mere facet of what it means to be at peace).

For me, fear tends to immobilize. At my core, I fear two very polar opposites: my inadequacy and my greatness; my darkness and my light. This fear can be seen in one of my most prized possessions: my journal.

Jordan & I are becoming solid friends. One of our favorite activities is to read past journal entries to one another. It may sound weird, and perhaps it is, but it grows me and I am moved, inspired, and captivated by the sheer beauty of his penned words now spoken.

When it comes my turn to share, I find myself ashamed. Not because Jordan criticizes or looks down on my writings, because he is my greatest encourager in the matter, but because only one or two of my entries ever made it to completion. My dear friend sits there, eyes closed in concentration and appreciation and my voice slowly dwindles away, my head hanging. I cannot deliver.

It's as if I am on the verge of greatness, realize this, fear what might happen, and stop before I ever got to the climax of my thoughts. How unfortunate! Fear has limited me like a ball and chain, forcing an otherwise healthy individual to limp along, unable to move but a few inches forward before heaving the heavy weight of their unwelcome but comfortable companion along.

The pages of my journal may be through, but my thoughts are lost to myself and the emptiness of overflowing duties of life. I have not stewarded my thoughts well. Father, forgive me.

Fear became my dictator, my marionetter, merely pulling on strings, forcing to respond to whim after destructive whim until I had forgotten how to stand. Freedom a mere illusion I thought I had attained, for look at all the cool tricks & back flips I can do!

I was never meant for such an existence. And though it may seem like an insignificant consequence, lost thoughts may never be found and the beauty I attain later in obedience may actually be slightly less brilliant than that of the first ideation. God, though, in the goodness of His character, will use my journal of loose ends. If for no purpose than to help me, if only just me, to realize the emanate dangers of fear. He shall redeem my imperfections. For now I will rest in the lesson of my journal of loose ends. May this be the first of many "completed" thoughts as a string-less child of God.

-Asher

axe peck station

(try um... mad gab to figure out what the title really says *wink*)

a dance with destinae
On the edge looking over
familiar things calling behind
Where darkness was once rebuked
Voices echo, consume, press
hope searches like fire burns
will she shine today?
will she find her destinae?
eager earth waits in anticipation
for her beauty to be shown; her truth finally known
daughter of eve, what will you do?
do you hear it?
creation's winds, the whispers of truth
tension
shadows of long ago
dance, dance, you demons of shame
blind guides shout heresies
things they do not know, truths they cannot see
daughter of eve, what will you do?
do you feel it?
arms wrapped about you, the strength of faith
love
fearful one, dont hold your breath
breathe, just breathe
let go, precious child
Love holds you tight tonight
on the edge of greatness
daughter of eve, what will you do?
can you see it?
the stars and saints gaze on
the endless expanse waits to see you
dance
destinae is on the horizon
the choice is yours tonight
daughter of eve, what will you do?
cower in your darkness
or dance in the light

He gave you wings.