wow...

Wow.

I completely forgot about this blog. Amazing to reread what my life and thoughts were like two years ago. Wow just wow.

I am gonna link this site to my other sites too.

Peace is in the Pages

“Peace is in the Pages”

Everything is dark as I awake suddenly out of a broken sleep. I am not in my bed and I am definitely not in my room. I can see the outline of an old familiar lamp stand in the corner and the moon is casting reflections off of a nearby mirror. As my eyes adjust to the night, I can see the dark red walls and the familiar family pictures hanging. Seeing the familiar faces in frames brings peace to my anxious heart. The chair I am sitting in is my father’s chair- big, black and leather. Sitting in its strength brings me peace. The fireplace along the wall still has the memory of a fire that burned earlier. Embers are refusing to die and coals still beg to be stirred. The dull light they produce bring my dark heart peace. As I continue to gaze around, my eyes rest on a book on the table besides me. I am drawn to it. Maybe its curiosity, maybe its anxiety but as I pick it up I begin to wonder if this book is what was haunting my dreams. It is familiar in my hands, I have seen this book often. It belongs to my mother. The pages are ripped and tattered and the binding is slowly breaking. I know that this is the book that brings comfort to my mom, but I also know this the book, that in the deepest of the night, screams at me to awaken. I try to ignore its calling, but tonight it seems to have found me.
I remember when I was young, if I would ever wake up early enough, I could find my mom downstairs, reading this book by the fireplace. I remember watching her and wondering why she loved it so much. Why had she read it so many times? Perhaps if she loved that book so much, I should too? I would look at her peaceful face, highlighted by the flames in the fireplace, drinking a warm cup of coffee, lost in a thousand words. I wondered it I would ever be peaceful like she was peaceful, maybe one day I would find that peace, but for now I was content to just sit and watch her.
But today I am in college, and my professor gave me a different book. He pulled it out of his old bookcase behind his desk and thrust it into my hands. It was ripped and tattered and the pages seemed as if they were hanging onto their last thread. It had obviously been used much. Along the side, embossed in gold, it read “The Humanist Manifesto.” And as I fingered it, I knew one thing for sure, this book goes against everything in my moms book. I also know that it is where my professor and many of my peers have found their inner peace. So as I sat there today in his office, with that book in my hand and memories in my heart, I began to wonder whose peace was true, whose peace was real? Could they both be real?
So I grabbed the Manifesto and I walked outside to the college campus’ courtyard. Students were busy ordering coffee, flirting with their boyfriends, listening to their ipods, and studying diligently under the cherry blossoms. I looked at all the wandering students and wondered to myself, which ones had true peace. In the middle of the campus there was a fountain. The water was turned off due to the freezing conditions, but there was a rockery that towered through the middle of the masterpiece. At that moment I resolved to find an answer to my deepest question. I walked over to the rockery and climbed to the very top. I stood, Manifesto in hand, and with all the courage and frustration inside of me, yelled at the top of my lungs “Who knows Peace!?”.
After I yelled this, a hush fell over the student body. A minute went by and then a boy emerged from the staring crowd. He walked over towards me in his dark framed glasses and brown striped polo. He set his backpack on the stone bench in front of the fountain. He unzipped and rummaged through a bunch of, what I assume, were class textbooks. Finally he found what he was looking for and as he pulled out a book, I immediately recognized it. It looked just like my moms book. As I was looking at him, his eyes caught mine and held them steady and seemed to pierce right through me. He broke off the gaze and set the book down in front of me and said “My friend, peace is found in these pages.” And with that he walked away, leaving me, my thoughts and my two books to wonder if what he said was true.
And now I sit, in this big black chair, my anxious dream running through my mind and the silent moon watching me ponder the decision in front of me. Is peace found in my moms favorite book or in my professors Manifesto? A few seconds go by and my mind is now made up. I light the fireplace, brew a fresh batch of coffee and open the pages to the book that is said to have peace in the pages. I begin to read, I read all night, one story after another, I read. And as I read, the anxiety of the night slips away and the peace I have longed for every day is brought with the morning’s magnificent light.

encounter time...

On the brightest of days, in the clearest of woods, in and amongst all the trees, sweeping through all the bushes, Me and my Lover played. All day long we were swept up in this chase, this extravagant embrace. He ran and I followed, I hid and He found me. Lost in each others eyes, caught up in a beautiful dance. Were He went, I went. Where He looked I looked. I couldn’t get enough. I never wanted this day to end. The sun would set, but it would never fully go away. We played in these woods, with the sky painted that bronzed color of amber and swirled with majestic pinks and blues that screamed of royalty. The entire world seemed to echo in His eyes, and I am certain if I kept staring I would be lost forever. We played, and we danced, and we swung on the limbs of trees, and we swam in the rivers so deep and clean, we lost track of time, or maybe there was no time. I am not sure. And then He held my hand and I followed Him, He pulled me to this place where there was a lone but a powerful tree. The branches were strong just like my Lover. It would not sway, it did not move. Steady and powerful this tree stood. And in its leaves all the colors that made up the essence of beauty. And on its trunk, carved in the stump, my Lover had wrote our names surrounded by a heart. “Me and Him=Forever”. And there is stayed, the seal of our love. The proof that me and my Lover were in love, so deep, so rich, so pure. And in that day, time stood still. It is frozen in my mind. Every glance, every smile, every giggle. Every kiss, every embrace, every dance. I cannot forget that day. But now I reminisce on a different day- a day after much time has passed. This day I could not find my lover. I did not now where He went. What was He doing? Was I not on His mind this day? Did He not love that day as much as I did? Or maybe for that day to be perfect it had to be frozen in time and never relived. But tonight I began to remember that day and I cried because I could not find Him. I searched and I searched and I searched but I could not find Him. Did He lose me, or did I lose Him? Maybe it was me who forgot? How could I forget such a perfect day? But then, like a window had opened, I felt His presence so near me, so thick. And He whispered to me “I did not leave, I did not forget. I remember that day I carved our names into that tree.” And then He grabbed my hand again and took me away. He took me to another place, a place I vaguely remember but not vividly enough. Perhaps this was part of that day? But then He directed my attention to the top of a hill. It was a very high hill and the road to the top was rough and rigid, and if I am not mistaken it had the traces of blood marking the rocks. And I glanced further up the hill and there was my Lover. He was on top of the Hill. And He was hanging on a tree. But as sure as I remember my lovers face, I remember that tree. That was the tree so lone and powerful and strong, burning with life and love. And so I walked closer to that tree and as I came closer I began to smell my Lover and feel the coarse wood he lay on. And then I saw it. I saw the thing about the tree that resonated in my mind from that day we had played. I saw it, right under my Lovers feet, hanging there all bloody and torn, was the carving of our names “Me and Him = forever”. And as I stood and wept, His blood flowed down, filling every crevice of that carving, covering every nook, coating my name. And it was then I knew that my Lover never left me, He always remembered that day, I was always on His mind, I was engraved in His heart just as He had engraved our names on that tree. And He froze our love in time with His blood. His pure love of fire, that surrounded the heart. And forever engraved on the tree where He died, every fire of eternity wrapped up in His gaze. And He took my hand again and said “I died so that forever our love will remain!”

"Hang my locket around your neck,
wear my ring on your finger.
Love is invincible facing danger and death.
Passion laughs at the terrors of hell.
The fire of love stops at nothing—
it sweeps everything before it.
Flood waters can't drown love,
torrents of rain can't put it out"
- Song of Solomon 8, The Message

Little Drummer Boy

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.

Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?

Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.

Ok so I have a huge fascination with this song. Usually people laugh at me and think its kind of nerdy that I love it so much. Some renditions of the song are not so great, but some are. My favorite is the version by Josh Groban, it is so powerful and moving. I was listening to it today and was honestly brought to tears by it. It was speaking to me SO much. The rhythm and the beats, the choir and the rising crescendos, the lyrics and the spirit that moves my spirit. AH! So, as I was brought to tears by this beautiful melody, I was asking God, "What is it abou thtis song that resonates with my core." Then I heard my Daddy answer me and He said "Morgan, nothing pleases me more than when you worship ME with the gifts I have given you." And I realized this song is not about a little drummer boy, its about me. Its my cry. I look at my life and I ask my Daddy "What can I give You that is worth what You did for me...I have no gift to bring, thats fit for a King??" There is nothing. There are no earthly things, no frankincense or myrrh, that I can bring Him that is worthy of who He is. But He gave me a drum so to speak, He gave me my art, He gave me my passion, and there is no higher form of worship then when I worship Him with my art, with every passion inside of me. "So to honor Him..." "I played my drum for Him [I painted for Him], I played my best for Him [i drew my best for Him]....Then He smiled at me, me and my drum [me and my art]." The little drummer boy didnt have anyhting He could bring, but He could use his gift and play his best. And when I paint and worship my Daddy I feel HIm smile at me becuase its the highest gift I could bring.

"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand" -The Velveteen Rabbit

Cry like the rain, break through the clouds. Shower us with Your face, break through our refrains. And You'll rain and You'll rain and You'll rain, and we'll put our umbrellas away. And we'll let every tear hit our face, every passion of Yours wrapped up in this wet embrace. We'll splash in the puddles and declare that we're drenched. Drenched in You, drenched in Your face. We get lost in those eyes so deep, we drown until normal air slips away. We don't want this air anyways, its normal, its average, and sometimes we forget we're breathing. We desire air that is fairer. Air that is clearer. Air that always reminds us what we are, who we are and where we are. Air that we consciously breath. Air that breathes into us. Air that cannot be found until we drown. Life in death. Freedom in surrender. Joy in tears. Beauty in Ashes. Fire in rain. Light me on fire and I'll drown in Your rain. I'll catch these other ones on fire. These others who are wet, we'll burn together. And we'll swim and we'll burn. They say it can't be done, but those that say that don't breathe this air. We live in a different dimension, with different expressions, flying in intercepting directions. So we'll breathe, and we'll drown, and we'll burn. Can you hear it? Its the breathing, its the drowning, its the burning. Can you feel it? Its the breathe, the water on your skin, the fire igniting your heart. Can you resist this? Its the wind, its the waves, its the flames. Can you see HIm? He's like wind, He's like rain, He's like fire. Can you become Him? I'm like wind, I'm like rain, I'm like fire. And I'm burning cuz He's breathing. And I'm drowning because He's raining.