“Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.”
I like to listen to music at dusk while I write my blog posts. Actually I like to write all kinds of things at dusk, when I can turn the music up loud because no one is sleeping yet, and keep the lights off, because the world isn't quite dark yet. I like the way the sun reflects in my window and furniture and how it somehow manages to shade my room in blue. I work in a mall store with no windows, so having daylight, or even evening light, streaming through my windows, and hugging me until the darkness falls, is like touching the sky. Music streams into my soul, and words pour out onto the page.
Lately we have been having these thunderstorms here in New Jersey, and the thunder has been so deep, that it's been waking us up at night. If you've never woken up from a terrible thunderstorm, let me tell you what it's like for me. At three in the morning, when the rest of the world is asleep, and there is no one there to judge me, I am lost in a sea of "where is my life going? What am I doing with my time? How does everything ever come together?" The deep of night is when insecurities come out to play, twirling on the mind with the questions that matter. Not the insecurities about our looks or how people feel about us, but our deep seeded ones- how we feel about ourselves. They make us want to get up and change, to start fresh tomorrow, to re-write our stories before the ending comes and it's just too late.
Sometimes, when I get a day off- the rare kind, the one where you have nothing to do, and the day is yours to use, I like to go walk somewhere that feels new. I get the urge to go somewhere fresh, to see a sight I've never seen. Sometimes I will walk to far away stores when I don't need to buy anything, just to have a destination. I like the sunshine that pours out over me, and the revelations that a day can bring when everything is visible. I love excitement it creates.
I think everyone should go camping at least once in their life, so that they can be away from commerce. But sometimes it doesn't have to be in the woods. If I could camp in any place in the world, it would be on this little beach that I visited in Chicago. The water went on forever, as it does on a good beach. You could hear nothing but the sound of your own imagination, swirling around with possibilities. I walked over to the ocean and sang out over it, letting the waves engulf it, and I could almost hear the people of the sixties and seventies, the Jesus people, sitting on the beach, singing worship songs in little circles on the sand. They didn't need a church, at least, not a building. They needed some music, a teacher, and a heart for God. It's the movement I most want to recreate (but that's a story for a different time). As I listened to them, to the ghost of a past well spent, I turned away from the water. And on the other side, there was civilization. Buildings and a road and bike trails and life. I could hear it all as I faced it, but I'd turn, and suddenly, I was alone again on the beach, nothing but the water captivating me. It was the kind of place where fantasy and reality meet, if only for a moment, and it was the most authentic place I've ever been.
I'm a romantic of the worst kind- I feel the world around me. I feel it move when good things happen. I feel it stand still with heart break. I feel it weigh down on me in tragedy. I feel it fly in happiness. I relate to the world more than I do to any person, to any idea. I relate to God through my surroundings, and I am captivated by what he has created. Every touch, every smell, every sound, every good and amazing sight that I have learned to appreciate. I am guilty of sometimes taking it for granted, but God is good, and he sometimes renews the wonder of what he has made, and then allows me to chronicle it, sitting at a desk in my room as the sun goes down, the speaker my parent's must regret buying for me blasting with melodies that resonate inside my core.
I am inspired by the world that my Lord created, and I am here to put it down in words. And I will write, no matter what inspiration he gives me, until he says enough, and I go home to be with him.