a cell

funny thing

that we who are i

can talk like you do

strange

when we meet

it is you that speaks out of me

and only my voice do i hear from your lips

your words resound in my voice

your thoughts i argue with passion

we are the same

we are the same

i am the same

funny thing

that i am not myself

when i am near you

stranger yet

alone

uninhibited

i am no one

alone in an unlocked cell

oh and also

and another thing....

today i came across a thought. There is a God i believe in. My beliefs are formed from my experiences and what I have been taught. The God I perceive, He whom I believe in, is good. However, God is more than the way I perceive him. I have faith in a God who is great. By great I mean a God who IS. This is beyond how humans perceive and understand. Goodness is a way of measuring that is defined by humans. Therefore I work to know the God who is great. The God who is great is not necessarily good, because goodness leans on human understanding and God in his wholeness is outside of that.

The God I believe in is good.

The God I work to know better is Great. He is great, but not necessarily good.

And both are one and the same.

Hmmm...excuse my use of terms such as "faith," "belief," and "understanding" I tried to use them correctly, but may not have.

That was my thought.

Next week, I will have thought more and might return to remove this post.

but there it is.

Potential Energy?

Words are meaningless on their own without context, without a past, without a future.

an individual has an energy in them, both kinetic and potential. an "is" versus a "could" versus a "can." One can choose to step in a great variety of directions. You go one direction and find great pleasure meets you. But does that enjoyment make the path meaningful? I could choose to live my life in coffee shops with ink stains on my hands and books in my lap. But, if I spend my whole life solely learning and solely seeking knowledge, all my energy remains as potential energy. I am on the brink of action, but not in action because all that I have gained remains harbored within me, secluded within one being.

That is why writing is so important and also holds so much danger. It can trap an individual, it can trap me within myself, so that I remain egocentric. I live a life that flows from myself, I begin to raise my thoughts and ideas on a self-made pedestal.

But there is a potential that writing holds to spread knowledge and reveal ignorance in a wider circle. Writing can move an individual. It can excite emotions within one person, one group, one class, one nation and incite them with a contagious energy. Writing combines knowledge with emotion to create force that will drive its audience to the brink of action, a build up of potential energy. However, it is less common to actually create action, instead it builds awareness. What will it take to tip that edge into a present and active form of energy.

I can't just write. I can't just read what others write. It is not enough. I can't live as an academic. I can't do without the scholarly world...shallow answers are not enough for me. But it's far too easy to lose oneself in thinking.

So how do you shift from the knowledge that learning and reading brings you into the action it calls for? Once you reach that edge you need a complete shift...a self-upheaval. At this point your view has changed, your paradigm now aligns with another's. The step to action is to take the new found awareness and throw your thinking away from yourself. This shouldn't be mistaken as throwing thinking away in general, but allow it to center on something other than yourself. To move forward one has to learn to think in a way that doesn't orbit around oneself. All that is you is known and one has to step into the unknown (or away from oneself) to make it into action.

driving

Today, I find myself drinking Stumptown coffee in a small coastal town. My brother had a business meeting in Astoria and I opted to be his travel buddy.

There's something beautiful about driving into the daylight. We left when it was still dark out. We twisted and curved away from Portland's sleepy city lights until we found ourselves in a different world. The world that in actuallity makes up the majority of the American population. Rolling hills sequestering valleys that are green and coated in the moist morning rain. Bridges arch over winding rivers. Factories and lumber mills flock around these areas. Large cargo ships slowly march towards the shores. Before the car stand beautiful, live trees densely packed near one another. But beside us are the remains of yesterday's industry. Dark logs stacked in enormous piles, nearly carpeting the entire valley. Smoke rises from the factories, patching the dark morning sky and we drive on.
Within the shelter of the car, Band of Horses plays, "I could sleep...I could sleep," as the sky begins to lighten and the sun fights the low clouds to wake up the world. Morning arrives and soon we had arrived in small town Astoria.

I'm always amazed when i realize what a small representation the city is of the state. Portland, or whatever city one lives in, can seem like the world until you drive away from its borders. Than you realize that run-down factories, trailer parks, and towns that can be driven through in 5 minutes are really what make up the state.

Yet even in Astoria, Ive found a cup of Stumptown and a window from which I can watch the rain. Here the customers are older, retired couples reading the morning paper and drinking bold coffee instead of hip, young adults drinking rice milk lattes and discussing the latest trends. It's a contrast reminds me how much I take for granted the rhythms of my life.
The shop has already emptied out so, I think I'll leave the baristas an empty place and venture into the misty rain. A used bookstore down the road is calling my name!