song of the stars

Immortality

is a dinosaur

(or maybe a dragon)

a beautiful nightmare; a terrifying daydream

unending possibilities

unending heartache.

But you still don't know--would it be worth it?

You feel it stirring in your soul long before you give it a name. The eerie feeling you've been here and done this before, that you've known a thousand names and held a hundred hearts between your soft, living hands

but not here.

When you were twelve, you would lay under the stars and piece together constellations

tracing the stars on your arm

(Orion's belt--was it a sign? or just

a trick of fate)

They seemed to you kindred, singing

in voices as high and white as silver, of eternity

of oblivion

and you sang too

(but not aloud).

Now you sit in crowded coffee shops and stare across the table at

mortals. Caught up in their troubles, worrying

about jobs or romance or ethics.

You like being among them because

it grounds you and

keeps

     you

           from

               floating

away.

But when you feel 

the autumn wind in your hair

fresh from turning dying leaves into a dancing whirlwind

when you hear songs of kings and queens

or gods

or poets

when you stare up into the blackness of the night

and feel your heart whisper, "friends, I have missed you"

it is then that you recognize the dragon 

(or maybe the dinosaur)

for what it is.

Immortality.

The feeling that you alone know what it is

to live eternity over and over again

to catch a glimpse of the beyond

but never touch it

to always hear the song ringing in your ears

but never sing it.

Know this, mortals.

There may be only one of us

But we dwell among you

forever.

fragments of frozen rain

"Under the endless rain of cosmic dust, the air is full of pollen, micro-diamonds, and jewels from other planets...people go about their lives surrounded by the unseeable." -Louie Schwartzberg

"The wind makes creatures of our trees." -Lullaby for a Stormy Night

"Histories of abolition, the civil rights movement, even environmentalism, don't begin with people who are powerful, realistic, or even normal. They begin with people who don't know better and who find the world they are born into intolerable. " -Jedidah Purdy

"Isn’t it funny the way some combinations of words can give you – apart from their meaning – a thrill like music?"-C.S. Lewis

"It wasn’t about reading the books – though God knows, the books I was reading at that time were more valuable to me than ever – but it was about being in the presence of books, of words, of the work I wanted so badly to do."-Dana Staves

"Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else, but just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes." -The Winter of the Air

"If it was an emotion, it was a totally emotionless one. It was hatred, implacable hatred. It was cold, not like ice is cold, but like a wall is cold. It was impersonal, not as a randomly flung fist in a crowd is impersonal, but like a computer-issued parking summons is impersonal. And it was deadly - again, not like a bullet or a knife is deadly, but like a brick wall across a motorway is deadly.” -Douglas Adams

before your face

The light penetrates my eyes, piercing
my face, stabbing deep into 
my heart, and suddenly
all the words I have ever spoken,
all the thoughts I have ever pondered, are there
trembling under your gaze.

I am ashamed. Woe is me, for even
standing in your presence--that alone is enough
to shake my heart and soul to the core
as your beauty and majesty surrounds me
overwhelms me
envelops me in its glory.

But
You see my thoughts, the futile workings
of my mind, plagued by sin and doubt.
You know my motives and my heart; there is
no secret I can keep
No nook or cranny too secret for you to uncover.

My heart is laid bare, and behold, it is barren.
My thoughts are nonsense, like the jawings of a
drunken two year old
My soul is a shattered cistern, unholy and broken
destroyed almost beyond saving
And I am undone.

Why did I doubt you?
Why did I lose hope?
Why could I not wait an hour and pray for my deliverance?

Why were my intentions misguided?
Why did I waste so much time?
Why did I not listen better to your prompting and study your Word?

Forgive me for my nonsense questions
For this babbling mouth, so lacking of wisdom.
Create in me a clean heart
and renew a right spirit within me.

“I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?” 

-C.S. Lewis

Why I Don't Blog

Welp, it looks as though I've only posted twice since 2011 (not that anyone's counting) but lately I've had a lot of thoughts and a little time and felt the need to give this blogging thing another try.

So. New name. "Laughter like a lion" is a line from G.K. Chesterton's poem "The Wise Men." Read the full last stanza for some context:

"Hark! Laughter like a lion wakes
     To roar to the resounding plan.
And the whole heaven shouts and shakes
     For God Himself is born again,
And we are little children walking
     Through the snow and rain."

I really like this poem. I don't understand it by a long shot, but there's something about the lines (and that one line in particular) that stirs something inside me. Call it joy, the Flash, inspiration--it's pretty amazing, whatever it is.

So, me not blogging. The first blog I was ever exposed to was "Insanity Comes Naturally" by Anna, a person whose writing I very much admired. Really. Her writing is stunning. I still get swept away when I go through her archives and look at her poetry or musings on life and God. I wanted more than anything to write like that--to be able to express my thoughts in a coherent way, and online is awesome because it won't burn or accidentally get deleted.

Great, so I'd decided I was going to start a blog. But what kind of blog? Awesomely deep and writerly, like Anna's, with prose and poetry and musings? A place to spew all the crazy, funny stories of farm life/college life/life life? An actual, serious blog about writing or Christianity or something non-fictiony? Therein lay my problem--I WANTED TO DO ALL THE THINGS.

Actually, that's still my problem. I don't want to be just deep or just funny or just intellectual...I want to be ALL of them. So I deeply apologize if this blog ends up being a weird conglomeration of random things. Including stories about scorpions in the shower and how my characters talk to me sometimes. But I've been looking for a creative vent for months and I've finally given in and decided to give this one more try.

So, I decided I could blog about all the things. But then there was the trouble of the TITLE (Odyssean Journeyish Quest Thing just wasn't cutting it) and that's where Chesterton saved the day because "Laughter like a Lion" sounds both funny (laughter) and serious (lions are serious) and deep (why is the lion laughing?).

I don't anticipate readers. I really don't, because I've written papers about how the "Blogosphere" (y'all, that's the technical term for this imaginary internet world) is just too many people with too much to say to too few readers. But I do anticipate growth, and writing practice, and hopefully an artifact for me to find someday, carefully preserved in the dusty virtual archives of the internet.

(yes I know the internet isn't dusty, stop looking at me like that)