Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Negativity

Negative company corrupts the spirit. Infecting the soul, reluctance purges lighthearted qualities deemed desirable in good company. This destroying force, this disease, seeks to permeate the very fiber of your being, forcing each thought downward. Depressing words and scornful ideas crash a thundering cloud in the mind of their listener. The infection of complaint digs veraciously into vulnerable pores and seeps from external vibes into unprotected skin. Sitting with stagnant pus in the innermost layers of living flesh, sharp edged negativity roots deeply in the atoms of your character. Altering the opinions of its captive victim, the symptoms outwardly show. Turning peace to anxiety and love to selfish pursuit, the ferocious ailment swells. Without remission, its surging and militant bacteria siege and conquer their primary goal; your heart. The throbs of this powerful organ are bound with ropes of fierce thought and cords of slander, and ultimately grounded with iron nails of pessimism. Unable to reverberate truth, power of this machine weakens. Resounding with the conformed ideals of cynicism the heart propels floods of criticism outward with each blood pump. Negativity triumphantly conquers the internal flesh chambers. Now ruled by disheartened ideals once foreign to you, any sign of former optimism buries beneath red heaping sores of apathy. Spotted and subdued you sit indifferent to life’s beauty. So invasive a disease, it results in the demise of joy and the death of vivacious laughter. Murder of happiness in every sense and leaving you in want. The body lies stricken with hatred. Excessive internal bleeding makes you, the victim, suffer a miserable existence. Inevitably your dreadful condition causes pain for those in close proximity. Slanderous speech steals away a complimentary attitude. Pessimism robs surrounding souls of blissful experience, condemning all you encounter to a morbid frown. This disease destroys the happiness of that in which it dwells, going on to spread its venomous octopus arms in the direction of any joyful source.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

“I hope our ripples travel together"

Two wet drops drip down heavens slide
Quickly passing mortal plans
Observing future events from their lofty seat
As man’s mountain hopes upward climb

Two orbs of drink wash further toward sodden terrain
Earth’s changing tide gives way
Human hope pools deep in destiny’s damn
Collective aspirations they know here have drowned

Two globular dewdrops confidently plummet
As gravity’s cycle pulls water to water
Inviting coexistence in tentative lakes, the ponds of desire feel
A splash sudden and inevitable, mortal preparation instantly greeted by fate

Two spheres once distinct, strike one on destiny’s surface
Transferring swells of acclimation outward
Now sending synchronized currents, envisioning a future harmonious
As each wrinkle travels in precise time

Poem Explained:
Men can plan out their future yet their paths are already paved. The fate of two people; destiny as some call it, lies ahead of them as they journey toward its allotted course. These people can put their hope in future events and live in anticipation, yet when their lives play out their plans may or may not match up to lifelong aspirations. The only option to a life of peace; acclimation into whatever turn life brings. Embracing people, relationships and experiences, and existing comfortably. Each person sends out unique undulations that mesh with fellow dwellers, ebbing and flowing together in this lake called real life.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Liberating Ties

The freedom of friendship
A journey taken
Rid of plans, a token
Treasured and prized,
Shared between the opposed
Interest. Consequently love prevails
Allowing united strokes to weave
A beautifully tangled rope
Tethered and bound
By loyal strength
Anchored in unspoken trust
And gripped by opposing fringe.
Freely tying and
Constricting both souls willingly
To a path similarly altered.

Time

Time is something we crave as humans. We attempt to create it, we wish there was more of it, we admire what happened during it. We plan to occupy it. We hope it won’t slip away unnoticed. We tend to fill it with thoughts. We reminisce about it, regretting we could live through and change experiences. But we don’t realize that we are all under its enveloping allotment. Controlling it cannot be achieved. We cannot manipulate it, although we may try. It will come and pass and continually be lurking in the distance, seeming to mock us, chiming ‘we will meet soon’. And we will naively laugh back, believing ‘I know full well when and where’ while our futile plans appear to us concrete. We overlook reality; an impending circumstance could change our plans in a matter of seconds, minutes, hours…in a matter of time.

Clippings

Seeing…

Imagine yourself in black and white-a world without color
Feel the joy, obsession, controversy
The rules, dangerously inspired
Exclusive bliss
Take a leap of faith, shock can be a delight
& Who says you can’t loose so much of a history?
            10 years back
                        Breaking helps you explore
Life is but a dream-located in you
            With every sigh,
            With every breath,     
            Radiance dapples the sun, shields the glare
We sometimes quietly stand back and admire
& As long as there is a place to exit,
A quiet beauty enhances your view from the inside out
            Here’s a toast to
                        Every personality
                        The gray spaces
                        Created offsets
                        The rich romance
                        Excessive smiling
                        The virtue of a wrinkle
            Nobody likes to miss a happily ever after

My Graduation Testimony


             A blank page lays neatly pressed, white with anticipation. It knows not what to expect, yet within its bound particles, a yearning bleeds forth. Extending beyond its own experience towards desire and pursuit, the canvas begs aid from resources outside itself. The pale whiteness cries for color. But further, the potential of this page awaits a vessel of fulfillment.
This canvas meets a seeking brush and its accompanying palate of color. Confident of its ability to create beauty and design ideas, the brush boldly dips into brilliant shades and sweeps over the emptiness. Replacing white naivety with wise and weathered strokes, this brush illuminates the potential of a paper once bare.
Together, the canvass and brush produce a beautiful work of art. Whether on display for the joy of others, or hidden as a secret keepsake; the painting’s existence maintains its vitality. The brush; if only for the purpose of brightening vacant space, or the canvas; providing space to be filled: the tools exist as compliments for each other. In the brush, the canvas receives perspective, form, texture, life. In the canvass lives room for instruction from the brush, along with joy in passing on true beauty. Art in itself, therefore, remains invisible without the existence of both equally important tools.
Stated with the least prideful intention, my life is a work of art. My whole person spreads wide as stretched canvas, inviting tools to add texture, carve design and shape ideas. My mother and father are grounded first as the prepping layer of prime paint. Setting the tone for future advancement, the initial hue of my upbringing allows later shades to conform slightly to its base color. My parents have brought me up in such a way as to seek Christ first. Their selfless love initiated in me a desire to serve the needs of others before my own. Love is the paint in which their brushes dip and sacrifice permeates each of my memories involving them. Through them I am able to grasp “how high, wide and deep is the love of Christ” spoken of in Ephesians.
 The biblical principles taught by my parents made up my life’s base and begged for nurturing at a young age. Woven with faith-focused textiles, Hawthorne Christian Academy stitched the earliest outline on my immature pale canvas. With changeable pencil lines, thirteen years at the Academy aided the formation of the first visible object in the middle of my canvas: my academic life. Each student I encountered at the academy added a different mark; each teacher printed their unique insignia. Quenching my thirst for thought, teachers straightened lines and curved edges and the object gained beauty.
As a contributor to the beauty of my canvas; specifically carving deep lines of determination, Mrs. Chi Chi patiently encouraged me while running cross country. Her gentle strokes of encouragement increased her underlying thrust of Godly motivation. Her coaching allowed me to see my ability to endure, even when failure seemed close at hand. As a mentor, she linked physical stamina with spiritual fortitude and taught me how “to run with perseverance the race marked out for me” as taught in Hebrews.
Mrs. Faber added colors brighter than I had ever before experienced. Her direct and forceful approach to teaching shocked my latent writing senses. Able to breathe in the clear open air, my love for words developed. With each writing assignment, whether in AP English or creative writing, my pen surprised me with its incessant gravitational force on the paper beneath. Forming innovative sentences I grew in my ability to write. With her deliberate method of refining words and shaping thought to communicate most efficiently, I grew confident with my pen. Mrs. Faber not only cultivated the sprouting author in me, but with her appreciated critique she taught me how to fluently express my opinion on paper. I learned to be encouraged by Mrs. Faber’s constructive criticism following the teaching in Hebrews to “not lose heart when rebuked”. Her unique mark forever stays on me, as she fostered my discovery of what to pursue in college. 
Further, correcting the crooked lines and sharpening the faded colors of my painting, Mr. Frederick’s brought practical application of biblical truth. Daily lessons about following Christ in the midst of real evil, suffering and distraction refined my veering gaze. Among the before mentioned examples of Christian mentors, His was the description in Psalm 15:2 “whose walk is blameless, who does what is righteous and speaks the truth from their heart”. After learning the theology taught through middle and high school, this practical class was the culmination to my spiritual growth at HCA. Although some lessons were hard to receive, he stressed the importance of accepting truth even when you don’t like it, agree with it or initially believe it.  Further, Mr. Fredericks proved to be a vibrant example of the good works that accompany true faith. The pure beauty of his canvas entreated me to mirror such a life of Godly dedication.
Finally, unable to ignore the influence of a grounded youth group and healthy church, etched in me through these was a mission’s mindset. Trips to Nassau, Bahamas and Chalmette, Louisiana carved lines so deep they permanently remind me of the suffering in our world. Working alongside motivated peers, I developed appreciation for a united working body, as I witnessed the power of harmony in Christ. We made every effort “to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace”, spoken of in Ephesians, whether on a construction site or leading kids in day camp. My youth pastor believed I could handle challenging lessons and I value the many Wednesday nights I left youth group unable to rid my mind of the new concept I had just learned. God has certainly placed in my life countless tools to teach me in His way.
But the wood frame to which my canvas staples fast and binds tightly my eclectic piece of art proves essential. God stands as the sturdy woodwork, holding my life. Immovable to the weight of material, deepness of the cut or tug of the stretch, his foundation resides. His is the foundation taught of in Ephesians that has “Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him [I too am] being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.”
My canvas remains a work in progress. New shapes develop with each decision I make, new colors are added with each conversation, and objects are erased and added according to old and new opinions. But throughout the process of this masterpiece, Godly inspiration permeates the very fiber of the canvas cloth. The tools used to work me, shape me, carve and correct me aid the composition of a life in Godly pursuit. Paul writes in Ephesians 2 “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works”. The many Godly instruments that have arisen while attending Hawthorne compile the very beginning of a masterpiece to be completed with God’s direction. I look forward to experiencing alteration, retouching and viewing God’s creative result.
I thank everyone at Hawthorne, my peers and teachers, for their enormous contribution to the story of my life this far. I pray that you too would view your life as God’s masterpiece and see the beautiful exhibition on display for others. 

I was chosen to write and read my testimony for graduation.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

A Joyful Reality

8-13-11

Brightness fills my heart as I encounter new things and discover the road that leads to embracing me. After weeks of duress my lungs explode past the concrete barrier that set in. Exploring self brings lighthearted freedom otherwise hidden by societal agenda. Brushing aside occasional stress, my childhood innocence returns. Little moments augment to superior levels of joy. And happiness shows its face in the sun’s broad rays; staying till the dark hours of night when emotions otherwise fog and weaken. Making clear a delightful reality, this liberating joy erases doubt while sparking the first embers in motivations fire; causing in me not only a desire to live abundantly but also the will of pursuit.