No writing is depressing writing. Today I thought I found a long lost journle full of my early writing and poems. It was the first jounle in which my idenity as a writer started to materialize, my identiy as a poet, a haiku poet and when i started to finally get comfortable with my own voice. In all honesty it feels like over the last two years i have lost a lot; a lot of creativity, a lot of passion, a lot of ambition. its sad, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. i also realized today that one of the major reasons i have not invested much in the arts is that there has been little money to do so. anyways, i can always write and i have not been. after i lost that journle i felt like i had lost part of myself, part of myself for a writer. my english teacher told me maybe i lost it for a reason. i don’t know, maybe but for good or bad? my commitment to blog my exeripiance in europe over the next year has got by back to thinking about writing. i really want to get back into it. one of my teachers said i need to schedual it in or it wont happen. bosh. i know he is right, and the summer is over again. no short stories, no plays just a lot of blank pages and wasted time.
on top of this i have had a lot to refelct about the past. my whole high school experiance, the back and forth, the reni-saince and chop chop. gut goot and bland blah. gosh. there are so many people, wonderful people, and times and memories and so many suckie ones too. damn. i don’t usuelly swear but it was just the only way to put it. i feel damnd up, like i have all this in me brewed up waiting to be let out to stream out to fall on pages and portraits and in song and lyric with rythem and dance and sweet erotic discourse. so much, so so much. i need God, so much. I need the Holy Spirit to walk me through this. to let out the dam trickle by trickle so it can be all dealt with, so it doesn’t overflow, burst or worse… become stagnant, spoil and rot. it needs to be moving, like the river Jordan. it needs to flow and move, to clean and be cleaned in. to shape landscapes and cut through rocky places. to find its place in the True Vine, in the river of the Spirit. this is my experiances, this is so much of who I am and and i am going to let out the damn little by little in bits and pieces through lyric and mealody with art and dialouge, in isolation, community and in the public spaces. may i be a flower, a river and song for my neigbors to grace their sight, cool their feet, find drink and make merry dance. and not me alone but me as one born of the Spirit, a child of God, his priest, ambassoder and intercessor. always being rained on, growing, washed, overflowed, inspired filled up by the Spirit of God so that people don’t just exeriance me but him and that is what is good. For no one is good except God and I am holy only because he has made me holy.
In the Spirit, through the Son to the Father…I pray, live and offer my song to him
From the Father through the Son by His Spirit… I am transformed, made able and sing my song to them that they may hear, turn and believe.
In him forever and to him all glory and praise!