Letting Go

      For me, time passes by way too quickly. When I was younger I would anticipate certain milestones such as going to high school and getting my driver’s license. At first, it seemed time couldn't come quick enough, but by the time I became a freshman I realized that I should probably slow down and enjoy my time; after all, my long anticipated liberation from an awkward childhood was steadily becoming my reality and I knew that it would soon take over. Now, whether I am enjoying myself or I am under a time sensitive stress, minutes and hours of a day pass too quickly. I try to make the most of every hour during my day so that each day of my week is filled with things that are worth my time. This makes it a lot easier for me because it’s comforting to know that I am spending my time wisely. I try to continually keep this habit of perspective in check so that I will not waste my current time while being anxious for another time—whether it be past or present.

      This past year has been the most prevalent in my desire to hold on to time. The people I have met, the family I have lost, the things I have learned, and the sense of stability I have acquired in the past year have all contributed to my reluctance to move forward. I will be moving soon, and the days are literally counting down to a new season of change in my life.  A season where most of the things on that list vanish or are all of a sudden made irrelevant and trivial. Thinking about this pains me because part of me—a very large part—doesn't want to let go. The other part of me however, knows how important my perspective is of this situation. By keeping a clear perspective of the future, but still a grateful attitude for the present, my pain is eased and time becomes and accessory in my life—an accessory that, rather than stealing precious moments, makes them possible. 

The Fall of a Cynic

I don't fall very easily-
  I was taught to guard my heart keenfully.
The ones I attract normally come after me... but maybe that's just because I'm not the kind to be...searching
      
       I have never tried to find love.
       I have always felt enough.

I've always known I will want that someday- but it has always felt so far away.
Even when its sitting next to me... I can't bring myself to believe.

      I have been made a cynic of love.

Not that I don't believe it exists...            certainlly it does! 
     I have simply found it ridiculous (and discouraging) to see such an item made out of something that is suppossed to be exclusive.
    I feel guilty when I consider letting such an emotion to contradict what I have always stood beside; and when I let it interfere, or rather, intervene in my thoughts.
   Some days I wish I could just let go of this responsibility....
  and other days I am thankful that I do not have to go through unnecessary pain.
   I crave experience, yet I do not wish to give into my selfish flesh...
                           I want to be strong.

   I know for a fact that God wants us to love... and that he created us with the desire of connecting with other human beings. But I also know that such a beautiful thing as love can be deadly when  the lust for one another is what keeps such feelings going...

  I have waited for love because I know it won't truely work as long as I put my confidence in my own means of stability.
And I know that I am most definitely not stable on my own!

  The tricky part is giving up my agenda and trusting that God knows my deepest desires and that he knows exactally what he has for me.

  I will let down my boundaries that I have put up for myself once I place all of my security in the Lord of my life. 

  Now, as I entertain the idea of experiencing such a relationship,
I no longer feel guilty as let myself fall.
I don't feel weak as I let my guard down...
  

Among the Living~ a lighthearted contemplation of my fish....

    Today, after cleaning out his tank, I found myself talking to my Beta Fish—

PeriAquaKillian. I was mostly asserting his beauty (even though most of it has faded) but 

I was also thanking him for being so brave. Brave enough to be all alone in his cube, 

aside from his three rocks, and deal with my problems—on top of his own! We are 

codependent, my fish and I. I shower him with words of encouragement and the 

occasional bath (both of which I am convinced have contributed to his lifespan) and he is 

there for me—a constant reminder and a humble teacher. He is always willing to 

emerge from his little terrain to assist me with my latest woes. I believe God wanted me 

to have this fish for a reason.

    One might argue that a fish is less of a “pet” than, say, a cat or a dog (maybe on 

the account that it can be rather difficult to physically pet a fish)… but I’d like to say that 

such a standard is inappropriate. Rather then flaunting a flashy routine of tricks, a fish is 

perhaps the most disciplined of listeners. They show their love (or loyalty… 

whatever…) through their ability to listen; in comparison to a dog who might show such 

affection by physical means... Today, during our conversation, Peri did most of the 

listening; which concerned me because, unlike most fish, he normally has something to 

say about everything.

   I believe God endowed each of his creations with their own bit of relevant

wisdom; and each of our bits come together like a puzzle. In the end, the puzzle reveals 

Truth—what else could God’s puzzle possibly be?! Peri’s bit of wisdom deals with 

Matthew 6:25, which essentially says that tomorrow is not promised. I’ve noticed I have 

felt extra sensitive to loss recently. Mainly because of my grandparents increasing age—

but I also find myself feeling concerned for all of those close to me (mostly not for their 

sake, but rather, my own). While I was peering into quarters of my fading fish, I felt a 

similar fear. Peri became a part of our family my freshmen year of high school, when my 

father bought him for me on a whim—that was 3 years ago and according to the man at 

the Mountain Nursery, Beta’s have a lifespan of 2-3 years. I found myself on the verge 

of tears (which I would say is an odd reaction toward a pet fish) thinking of how our 

time together is thinning and how each day he is nearing the end of his span of life. 

Then Peri reminded of all the other times he grew a sickly pale color and I feared the 

inevitable flush noise of a funeral residing in the next morning. I was never promised 

that I would have PeriAquaKillian throughout all of my high school years, neither has 

there ever been a definite warranty of “2-3 years”. The presumption of assured life is an 

overrated and a foolish science for those who attempt to estimate its boundaries.

     Funny enough, I find myself thanking the Lord every time I knock on his cube 

and the little opossum stirs. Peri has helped me realize that I don’t believe in lifespan 

warranties one bit—who says my Peri can’t outlive myself? Well, maybe a lot of people 

say that… but surely the Lord of the entire universe can prolong a fish’s life as much as he 

can prolong such a great tree as a Sequoia, or let alone, the United States of America.

A Picture is Worth...

Pictures of who they used to be--

Did they realize who and what they would become?

 Did they want to become who they are now? 

Raised upon vanity. 

Snapshots of how things used to be.

 Those people in the pictures, bare a different struggle then they do now;

 A struggle which might, otherwise, have been forgotten. 

But now, the happiest- perhaps feigned- moment is preserved; 

For all to see. 

For all to envy. 

For all to remember.

    If every picture was captioned by both, the person in the picture, and the person who took the picture... 

What might such insight reveal? 

In one case, the photographer might've insisted on taking such a snapshot;

In another, one might've begged a stranger to help them preserve a moment in time--

 A moment, in which, is soon contaminated by two little words:

 "Say Cheese".

The Silent Ruler of My Nights

The silent ruler of my nights. 

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow is where it thrives. 

Where the harvest of this vicious cycle is reaped.

 And yet, with my full awareness, I let it begin again.

 The Tomorrow Me can deal with it.

 How much more can my future self, handle? 

This disease of time-wasting ironically might be my most productive state.

 It is amazing what our minds come up with while avoiding, perhaps, an even less daunting task. 

“If I could just solve this unrelenting paradox…”

Time. 

The worst enemy of those who fall victim. 

And yet, if allowed more extra, the results would probably not change.

 The real danger is Perspective Perception. 

Tomorrow Me will always seem more willing than Today Me… Tomorrow Me, however, could not disagree more! 

Today Me’s biggest regret is Yesterday Me’s decision to allow Time to approach Tomorrow Me’s duty.