I’m not entirely sure why I haven’t taken the time to write. Oh, how I could make excuses. I’ve got this mental illness. I’ve got a boyfriend. Yeah, well, I know writers with families and other commitments and they still do it. But even as it hits me I find myself remembering: yeah, well, you’re not them, are you? That’s true, I’m not.
So here I am. Finally. At the keys, typing. And oh, how it feels good to be here. Be in this moment. Mindfulness. As much as I fight to focus, some days…most days…it is so hard.
I’ve got a purring cat next to me, happy to have taken over my chair as I sit typing on my bed, laptop on the ottoman before me. I’ve got a phone just next to me on the bed, where I await the notification light to blink at any given moment to capture my attention, yet again. Focus can be difficult, indeed.
It reminds me of one of my favorite poems on Levi the Poet, by which he writes in’The Teacher Speaks’: “ I have not written or prayed for days and days and days and days and days and days and day AND DAYS AND DAYS AND DAYS AND DAYS AND DAYS!” For those that know the spoken lyric, they know the power and emphasis placed upon every word. That’s the sort of emotion I could only hope to be captured in the moments of my deeper writings, or ramblings…whichever.
I could chalk up my lack of writing to my new graphics tablet, to which I have released creative outlet through art, but that wouldn’t be fair as that only accounts for the last few weeks. So there’s not much to say here today, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s a sign by which things are getting better. I can only hope. I can only pray.
I’ve recently fallen in love with a poem. Poems are a fragile thing for me, carrying powerful weight of word to express the emotions of the heart in ways that often feel inexpressible, these words of expression formed by creativity into art. The first time I listened to Levi’s words spilled through the air of my dorm room, I swore, the only word to capture the thoughts to my lips, “Damn.” A weight had filled the air, an understanding of sorts that I could feel yet not entirely grasp. Things I have known, and the unknowns all clashed together with a beautiful symmetry. I hope to put some of my thoughts together with some of the poem’s words (bolded). As a whole it is a wonderful, introspective piece of art that I can’t help but appreciate.
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“It’s like the Lord answered all of my prayers and now I want my questions back and search for ways despite His grace and get my old gods back. Dear, I can’t pretend that I didn’t thrive off of the emptiness that I felt inside before the Spirit invaded the void, just like I asked Him to, and shared with all of you.”
Something within me resonates with this so much. That struggle of keeping the “old self” crucified at the cross and pursuit of the Kingdom of God. It’s the feeling of gratitude, “Thank God, I am not alone in this. Someone else out there shares the way I’ve felt” It’s a difficult feeling, but one so often true in ways that I’ve personally not had the words to speak my heart. It’s nice to see someone put those words to air in my place.
“I stepped out the front door and tossed out my keys to find myself in a closet stuffed with all of my insecurities, and all the things that I’m ashamed of, and every broken memory that I keep to cut my wrists, so be it vein or be it pity. Well I know that I still bleed and I keep the shards of mirrored glass to see my expression as I seep out onto the carpet and stain my bare feet in a puddle that I’ll drown in, eight quarts deep.”
Just reading the words on this part brings tears to my eyes. That inner darkness, so familiar and haunting, is understood in these words. Thoughts can be cutting and destructive when they become bottled up, as much as acting out on the anger and bitterness one keeps inside.
“These headphones could be playing something else, but we’re at the bottom of everything, like the songwriter sings, and I make myself shiver until I believe it. I know every word to every song about despair, and I keep the albums on repeat to keep me there.”
Guilty as charged, I suppose. I often sit listening to music that comforts me, which is often those ‘albums on repeat’ that bring back the memories I often am trying to run from. It’s so ironic. I use music to run: run away (from the present/from the past) and run to (the past/the present reality) and it’s no wonder I’m running in circles. Levi describes it exactly as I’ve felt it.
“She said, ‘We fall apart and into our gods, but God meets us where we are.’ Oh, what a thought! To live a life that’s free, but we are such a self-destructive bunch, aren’t we?”
It was at this point where I had swore. The sheer reminder that life’s a struggle sometimes, yes – it’s true, but yet God walks with us. We are not alone in the fight. We are not alone, despite the difficulties. We are the ones that hold us back. But yet, we are not alone. Wow. Just wow. The power in knowing God is with us is what keeps me striving forward.
Thank you, Levi, for voicing things I have never been able to voice for myself.
Of Muddy Paws On The Concrete Road 