Curiosity often gets the better of me
I'll try [almost] anything once
I've learned [the hard way] that I do have limits
But I'm not afraid to push myself
I've spent most of my life outside of my comfort zone
Outside of myself.

Reasons abound, good and bad
For why I've so often abandoned myself
Denied myself, just plain ol' forgotten myself
More often than not, it began with I was just curious...
By another name, discontent.

It keeps me interesting. Keeps me interested...
In life, my curiosity, that is.
I highly doubt it will ever go away.
I hope it never does.
But with you, it doesn't drive me anymore
It has found its proper place.

With you I don't have to be something that I'm not
More importantly I no longer want to be something that I'm not
Being me is good enough.
It's not a fight or a battle anymore.
I no longer feel lost more often than found.
No need to justify or rationalize
Don't feel the need to defend myself.

I can't explain it
Words don't do justice
To the feeling inside my chest
I guess you could call it home.

Flitting from flower to flower
Never quite at home
Hovering without a place
Not empty but not satisfied

Shining smiles, bright lights
Laughter echoes across the room
Feet moving to the beat
Conversation flows

Now there is a string attached to this kite
An anchor to this ship
A home for this wandering soul

Here
In this chair
With you.

Crossed a bridge
From whole to part
From without to with
From surprising to expected

How quickly and easily it all changes-
when it's good.

What once was only a possibility now has form and sureness. 
What once was only a dream now has a face, a name. 

A piece I was willing to live without has been found. 
Held loosely, yet more confidently with each passing day.
Peace where anxiety once reigned. 

Not sure where this will lead but more than willing to take the chance. 

Collecting a few thoughts here and there.
Commonality and yet disparate.
Conversations overflowing.
Mind attempting to focus.

There is a part of me that pushes.
Struggles with limitation-
Sees a picture larger, more detailed, richer color than this world contains.
It wreaks havoc, manifests chaos, makes life very, very messy.

This part shows most when I paint.
Layer upon layer of color and streak, muck and scratching.
Searching, striving to put onto canvas something inside of me.
Complexity spills forth.
Can I be any different?

It would be so much less work,
Require so much less energy to live life less deeply,
To not feel the burden to put down what I 'see'.

And yet I still run away.
I still avoid.
I refuse to engage even though I see exactly what is happening.
After all, it isn't always rewarding, holding up the mirror or letting people see the crazy thoughts inside one's head. And there is so much crazy up in here.

A lot of times, I can ignore the crazy, keep it under wraps. But when I sit down to paint, I can feel the frustration rising. Something isn't worked out here yet.
When I speak, really speak about life, I can see it in the dull reflection of their eyes. It's not that what I say isn't true, but it's so different from what everyone knows. I feel it keenly. It separates me and I hate separation.

It makes me restless.
My mind, it leaves me restless.
The awareness of the separation, complexity, difference and responsibility lead to frustration and the frustration to restlessness.
Now I could accept the limits.
I could give up trying to paint that picture inside my head.
I have tried.
But it haunts. It begs to be painted. It cries to be lived.
So I follow its echo through the chambers of life into caverns unexplored.
I may cross lines that shouldn't be crossed.
I may live a life with great disappointment and persistent restlessness.
But I will have tried.
I will have followed the Call on my life.

 It is absolutely amazing how having someone around on a regular basis changes the way I see life.
Damn it, I think I need someone to come home to.
And I kind of think I'm a homebody if there is someone with which to be one.

Can't quite make up my mind, but maybe it is coming with age.
Or maybe it is the nature of my job now, always meeting new people.
But coming home to an empty house doesn't make me feel any better.

Blast.
I'm dependent.
I need people around, and consistent people at that.
I used to hate myself for it.
But now, well, I got used to it. I was a little spoiled.
I've always known because of how deeply disappointed I would feel when someone would change or leave. But I've always fought it. Suppressed it. Willed it away. Separated myself to avoid the disappointment.
But now, well, I guess I like it. Yes, it's exhausting. And yes, people disappoint. They leave. They drive me crrraaazzzy. I get annoyed with them. But when I'm alone, I get annoyed with me too! So maybe that's just something in my heart that needs to be redeemed.

So yea, I'm dependent. There. I said it. Once and for all.
A little Asian left a hole in my heart the size of Canada, but she also made my heart bigger as a whole. More space for those who follow.

"Pain is good. Well, let me rephrase that. Pain can bring good. It is necessary to help us understand and appreciate the good things we have in life- a reminder of the brokenness that is constant in this temporary world. But also an indicator of hope for better things." T. Siu

You know that feeling of dread that creeps up,
Wraps around your chest and immobilizes?
The ever potent bug of procrastination.

It spans all personalities and tasks.
It makes me irritable and brings out the escapist in me.
And so often, once the clothes are folded, dishes put away or book read,
it fades with a sigh of relief....
Til next time.
Which could be a matter of minutes or hours or days or weeks.

Someone, I think it was a parent, asked me if I knew a cure for procrastination.
I had to stop and think.
I am, by artistic nature, a procrastinator, desiring to be as fully present in the moment without care.
And yet I was raised with a good, loyal German work ethic. Not to mention, this crazy awareness of detail that I've been trying to figure out if it should be ignored or exploited.
I said, being on the receiving end of someone else's procrastination.
If it happens to you enough, your view of responsibility changes. So while the dread still creeps, you take care of things instead of hiding because you care for others.

Works great for everything but myself. I'm realizing I really don't care very much for myself. A very practical example, my laundry or cleaning my car. Neither affect other people very much so I ignore them. Don't like to take the energy to address them. But it's really not caring for myself.
Do you know how many times I have this thought when I finally get around to doing something for myself? Every time. Seriously. Working out. Yoga. Reading. Walking. Oh the list goes on and on.
I'm really beginning to wonder when I'll start taking care of myself on a regular basis.
When I'll actually see it as worthwhile to spend the money for a yoga class or to create just for me.
And why do I keep putting it off?
And what does that say about what I think of myself?

I don't want to say the fight has left me,
but something has.

No longer drowning in emotion,
how does a life burn?

No longer wallowing in sorrow,
how does a heart break?

No longer choking in anxiety,
how does a mind race?

What fills the space?
What stems the non existent tide?
Who keeps track of time?

Where do I find my life?

There comes a time when words are not enough.
When the blank stare looking back tells me I'm not getting anywhere.
How I wish it weren't true.
Yet it hardly surprises,
Leaving empty handed.

Those eyes, so blank, unreachable.
Delusional am I to think otherwise.
Yet I fall time and time again-
those shallow, fading eyes.

Hope, resistant to reason, hits pride every time.
When does it die?
And where shall I reside?

Far from its playful grasp,
Without another cry,
Silent.

Conversations at loud parties are so much fun! Frees me up to be more expressive than I would be in normal conversation without scaring the person half to death. Granted I tend to match whatever style of conversation a person has. But that's for another post. 

Talking with a friend last night, speaking to his insecurities and baggage that he carries from his pasts, made me realize I was preaching at myself. I could speak so well to him because it was like I was talking to myself without having to recognize it.

Generalization: There are two kinds of people in the world of relationships. Those who see relationships as hard work as they attempt to remain themselves and those who find them to be utter bliss in which to lose themselves. It's really more of a spectrum, one on which I fall more on the side of hard work and less on the utter bliss. I'd prefer to be myself and be alone rather than lose myself and share life with someone else.

I used to tire of all people. My annoyance with them and exhaustion from them would drive me to isolate. There are so many reasons why. Reasons I can see more clearly now that they no longer exist. My own insecurities were often reflected in the other and I could not bear to look at myself.
Those same insecurities drove me to need to be needed and kept me in situations of emotional over involvement time and time again.
Meanwhile all the time, attempting to be what the other person wanted instead of who I really was always resulted in exhaustion. Hiding is incredibly exhausting.

So you would think being set froom from those insecurities, the hiding, the confusion would mean that I'm now free to be on my own. And while it has rid me of the need to be needed, it has also freed me to be in the company of others without hindrance. It has freed me to find true enjoyment in knowing and being known. But sometimes I lose sight of that.

For instance in the last few days with the moving of my roommate, I've found myself wanting to isolate and detach from those I know because I don't like the feeling of loss. I'm aware of it but I don't always have the strength to fight it. But last night a friend urged me to come out to this party where I had this conversation with another friend about how it is good to be in relationship. Yes, you'll have those times where their decisions affect you in ways that totally stress you out (packing up a roommate's stuff in less than 24 hrs :-P) or leave you feeling a bit hollow on the inside (missing said roommate while another gets engaged), but to know well and be known well far outweighs the broken moments of this world. Fear of hurting or being hurt should not keep us in our own little worlds because we'll miss the good of life and love. That is true redemption.

Had a phone conversation with a good friend that took me back a few spaces and places in time.
to places I haven't been
to people I haven't seen
and lives I haven't lived
and pasts I haven't pondered
in quite awhile.

I don't particularly have good feelings about the place that is called Fort Wayne. The bad associations used to be attached to a specific person. But now it seems to be more general. not entirely sure what to do with that and so it is easy to speak in sweeping generalizations.

but more than that, it is what to do with it. at the root of my aversion is just plain lack of knowledge. when i don't know how to do something, i often avoid it until something forces me to figure it out. i do it all the time in my job. the timer on the lights out front is off. has been for months. i've tried fixing it, but i don't know how so it remains unfixed.

so i don't know how to deal with the fact that i am not connected at all anymore with the physical location or the people with which i spent a major chunk of my life. and now i am so different.
these things they change you.
they change how you see those you left behind.
they change how you see yourself.

and there really is no easy way to deal with it. i could go back, but it won't be like the movies. i won't come home and rediscover my lost self and decide to stay forever. since leaving i've rather found myself instead of losing myself. it's painful to deal with that disconnect.
it is painful to say to those i left, it has been better that i did so.
.repeatedly.
it is better that i left fort wayne for college.
it is better that my parents moved.
it is better that i left chicago after college.
it is better that i moved to new jersey from michigan.

I've found freedom i'd never known.
God has met me in taking those leaps of faith.
And yet i feel pride--and shame in saying those things.
in acknowledging the growth that has come in my life because i moved, changed things.
because I love where I'm at. what I'm doing. how I'm living my life.
like i've disgraced and disappointed those i've left behind by leaving and not wanting to come back.
-while still aching for someone who knows it all, for someone with which to entrust my history and live with now-
and still thinking it's pretty damn hard to keep in touch, relate, etc. with those who know and to what end?

so it's not so much that my feelings are bad in themselves, but the questions they raise aren't easily answered.

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, 

we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand,

 and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, 

knowing that suffering produces endurance, 

and endurance produces character, 

and character produces hope, 

and hope does not put us to shame, 

because God's love has been poured into our hearts 

through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Romans 5

I'm a recovering pessimist--

much of my life spent attempting to stifle hope and deny disappointment.

My recovery began with a confession,

a leaving behind of the phrases of denial,

I'm just being practical, 

keeping realistic expectations, 

saving myself the disappointment,

I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist.

For the realistic end of pessimism is death and destruction. A world where all things fade away, nothing lasts, and there is no hope. Life at the hands of blind, destructive fate is empty. Yet hope always found a way.

It bubbled up in unexpected places, catching me by surprise, smacking me with disappointment. Disappointment always shows where you've placed your hope. It shows the inevitability of hoping, how it sneaks up behind you as you're trying to stuff it down in front of you. Anything to avoid disappointment, which will always find you if that hope is put in the wrong place.

What about on the shelf with the books that I read? 

Or in my purse with the cash in my wallet? 

Why not on my wall with that degree that I earned?

Or with the (invisible) ring on my finger?

It's gotta go somewhere. Tangible things are the natural way to hope. But hoping in broken circumstances and people leaves you hopeless. It requires lowering, and lowering, and lowering your expectations for it always disappoints. It always fails. It never fully satisfies.

The first step to solving a problem is accepting that you have one. 

And I had one, still do. 

But God does not disappoint.

i always have a million ways that i start these things in my head.
until i sit down to start one--
and they all escape me.

there are these different ideas rolling around,
competing with each other.
and no outlet.

it's like i need to write a manifesto or something.
get all these theories out of my head
to leave space for the rest of life.

sometimes i wish there were someone who would just ask me about these crazy things.
most people don't really want to hear about why i think philosophy is important
or how our culture lies to us, what makes a good movie or painting or song.
and i wonder what to do with it all.

surely there must be a place for it to be used--
without overwhelming people.
or getting into stupid debates.
but really making people stop and think.
see the world differently.

i wish i knew what avenue to take.
but i guess it'll reveal itself eventually.
til then....

life is so ironic.
or maybe I just see it that way.
maybe I look for the irony.
I think I do.

something has happened in the last few months while I wasn't looking.
I didn't have time to. it was one thing after the other.
at work.
at home.
out and about.
in my head and my heart.
somewhere in the chaos I found a few pieces of myself--
more than I expected.

it's funny how that happens.
so often we come through experiences, times when we just survive, on the other side, surprised by the pieces with which we are left.

I'm really starting to like those pieces.

even just six months ago, I would've quaked when confronted at work, or even by a friend. now, not so much. this girl who has grown up, hiding in the shadows, all too often forgotten. just as much crushed by the anonymity as reveling in it. for the first time i'm meeting people fully myself, without filter (though still possessing some tact, i hope). that shy girl, she still comes out. but she's not who I am anymore. she was born of insecurity. yes, I'm an introvert and oft overwhelmed by loud noises, crowded places, smells, etc. not because I'm less of a person, just different.

I like that I like what I like.
no longer shamed by my personality, I can truly be me.
however ridiculous and honest and awkward and fun and quirky that may be.

subtle shift
something deeper is satisfied
life feels lighter

i've wrestled...
and won, for now.
til the next time.

but then it will be different,
while still the same.
and only One gives Hope.

it's funny to say when exactly freedom came.
i've only just noticed it.

nothing drastic has changed on the outside.
but space is now mine.

space to hear and see.
so simple.
a walk.
a day alone.
time to cook my own meal.

no longer living on borrowed time.

i have brief moments of clarity, like the smoke screen is lifted for just a second.
they haven't been happening as much lately. i chalk it up to all the 'otherness' demanding my attention.
it's not just attention, it's energy and general mind space.
i. want. my. mind space. back.

give it to me.
it's a tug of war.
me on one side.
and life on the other.
and right now i'm acting like a two year old who is desperately losing and throwing a hissy fit.

the present realities weigh me down. they empty me of my previous selves and my future selves. i lose sight so easily. and then something like this morning jars me. it reminds me of where i've come from. ah, how i have forgotten where i've come from. it's so easy to do here. this world is so disconnected from everything i've known before. to fully be myself now requires remembering who i have been.

people that i know now. here. know me better, more fully, than i've ever been known before. i am free to be who i want to be. that is the beauty of the east coast. freedom. but with that freedom can come great listlessness. i'm finding when you aren't grounded in your past, the present feels random and monotonous, without meaning and very little sense of progress. the past, it still leaks out. but it's not nearly as obvious when the people around you don't know it. and when your present circumstances are so far removed from anything you've ever known before.

i was totally dumbstruck riding home with a friend at 3 a.m. from a rooftop party in brooklyn. i think exhaustion removed the filter of hiding where i've been. to him, it wasn't strange. he's from brooklyn. we drove by the hospital in which he was born. and words failed me. there was absolutely no way for me to effectively communicate how drastically removed this life is from anything i've known thus far. no way. the sheer shock and how out of my element i felt. that is something i still feel many, many ordinary days.
if my childhood friends knew me now. what would they say?
this adel is nothing like the one they knew.
and if my current friends knew me when i was a child, what would they say?
would we even be friends?

i am such a product of that with which i surround myself, immersed in the experience.
addicted to experience. often wondering if i'm lost in others' experiences.

maybe as artists we are just meant to provide people with a backdrop to see themselves.

‎"People [always] think you are better than you are or worse than you are no matter who you are. So don't EVER let your identity exist anywhere as easily corrupted as the mind of another...messes with your head."

just need to sit for awhile.
sit and be.

show me please who i am supposed to be.
show me please how to be me.

who can i lean on?
who will save me?

keep and sustain me.

I'm struggling with this dichotomy,
not that i expect there to be an answer.
but always valuable to state a paradox.
to fully hold one in tension with the other--
if only for a moment.

exhaustion.
what is the cause?
when is it good?
when is it bad?

when is it a sign that one is forcing something that shouldn't happen?
when is it a sign to quit?
when is it my own fault, fighting a fight i shouldn't fight?
when is it to be ignored?
when does one push through, persevere, etc?
and when do i say enough?

what do you do when you can't say enough?
when there isn't an option to say no?

how long is too long?
and how long is not enough?

see i've got this stubborn streak in me
this indignation that springs up

sometimes i think it's a personal vendetta upon some people
let's be honest, sometimes it is.

other times it's just in response to someone's attempt to make me what i'm not.
how i can't stand that.
it calls up a frustration that runs deep.

and then there's lies.
blatant lies.

there's a difference between growth and conformity.
between truth and projection.
conflict and aggression.

i seek the growth that truth brings and recognize it often means conflict especially in myself and possibly in others. I welcome that kind of conflict.
i also fully acknowledge that i have a tendency to run away from messy conflict, frustration, aggression, etc. but you can sure as hell bet, i'm not going to stand up for something that i don't agree with.
so don't tell me i should.

when did sharing the gospel become a crusade of rights?

to be fighting for truth is to dismantle the lies we all believe about ourselves, about God, about life.
i fight on the ground. in people's lives.
you can fight your crusade of rights.
don't mind me if i choose not to.

Psalm 139
English Standard Version (ESV)
Search Me, O God, and Know My Heart

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.

139 O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
    you discern my thoughts from afar.
3 You search out my path and my lying down
    and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 Even before a word is on my tongue,
    behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
5 You hem me in, behind and before,
    and lay your hand upon me.
6  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
    it is high; I cannot attain it.
7  Where shall I go from your Spirit?
    Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8  If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
     If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light about me be night,”
12  even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you.
13 For you formed my inward parts;
    you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.[a]
Wonderful are your works;
    my soul knows it very well.
15  My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
18  If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
    I awake, and I am still with you.
19 Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!
    O men of blood, depart from me!
20 They speak against you with malicious intent;
    your enemies take your name in vain.[b]
21  Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?
    And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
22 I hate them with complete hatred;
    I count them my enemies.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart!
     Try me and know my thoughts![c]
24 And see if there be any grievous way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting![d]

This psalm is incredibly familiar to us, as my coworker stated when giving the devotion. And it is often these that we breeze over with pure intellectual assent.Today however as I listened to my coworker bring out the nuance of the Hebrew (the Hebrew word translated as hem here is used in other places meaning to seige as in battle), the Spirit brought out a comfort for my heart as well as my intellect that echoed throughout our conversation the other week.

I desire to be known. It is something that has destroyed me many, many times. I have met with utter failure, disgrace, shame, and bitterness in my efforts to be known by family, friends, classmates, teachers, directors, bosses, coworkers, did i say friends?, and dare i not forget, boyfriends. And oh yes let's not forget the means by which I often try to make myself known, my art, music, creativity, activities, intellect, advice, presence, participation, listening ear, wisdom, and the list goes on...and on...and on. It drives the way I listen to others, how I treat children, why I take the time, why I give seemingly endlessly to others' efforts. I am passionate about making people know that they are known. Because we all desire to be known.

Today, though, God answered a prayer for me. He spoke a healing word to my heart. He took care of me.

He knows my desire to be known. And He created me with that desire so that I would know Him better.
He made me this way.
He knows the perpetual ache of my heart to be known, even by myself. He knows the frustration I often feel and how it manifests itself in so many ridiculous ways.He gets the drive that keeps me looking for jobs, for the next location, for the better way to be a friend, for the next outlet for creativity.
He gets it because He put it there. Because He loves me!

Thank God my family did not notice me growing up.
Thank God my parents did not understand me as a teenager.
Thank God my teachers' praise never fully satisfied.
Thank God my brains are never enough.
Thank God my creativity leaves me restless.
Thank God my friends drive me crazy sometimes.
Thank God a man has not come into my life.
Thank God I have no children by which to fill my life.
Thank God my job drains me of life.
Thank God I am often overlooked.
Thank God I am often unappreciated, used, abused, taken for granted.
Thank God my hard work will always leave me wanting.
Thank God my life is just a shadow of what is to come.
Thank God that I am never fully known. here. now. by anyone. or through anything.

Otherwise, I would not search. I would not pine. I would not press to find my worth in You.
Thank God that You, and only You have made me known.

No one knew my name.
No one cared.
Only God saw my face.
Only God dared.

Light bounces, sparkling from place to place.
Empty eyes are filled with grace.
Sorrow empties, allowing space
for the Spirit to be embraced.

We grow like weeds
in empty space.

We are wonders upon wonders.
We are all real human beings.
Why must we put on such faces?
A deeper Reality whispers. Truth beckons.
Freedom has a tantalizing taste.
Yet we hide behind the fake-
what others want us to say-
instead of asking God to break in and save us.