Friday, March 16, 2012
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Joseph Campbell spoke of viewing life as a story and yourself as a character in it. I think this is a beautiful perspective. Similarly, however, our lives are like books. There is a beginning, a story, then an ending. And as in life, what goes on after the ending is forever a mystery.
The chapters of our lives are not solely authored by us though, for we are part of a much larger story and therefore effected by that story’s unfolding. Yet we do have much to do with our own tale – our will, our choices, our mistakes, our strengths, gifts, and weaknesses all contribute to what’s being written.
As with many adventures, sometimes it's hard to turn back around once we've veered off course and find ourselves struggling just to keep going. This is not a choose your own adventure story where if we don't like the outcome we can always go back to that last page and make a different choice.
No, in life we must live with the choices we make and their consequences, the good and the bad. Though sometimes we may not like where we currently are, we can at least do away with some anxiety in that we have only one way to go, and that is forward.
If we stumble on this path we must catch ourselves, if we fall we must get back up, and if we get lost we must find our way again. There will always be help along the way when we need it most. That is part of the mystery.
Surely we all feel hopeless sometimes, have all felt like things are not as they should be, like we are failing at this important task that is life. But often, and sometimes sudden, these moments of darkness fade, as though a new day has dawned, and we see the world yet again in a new light. Then we know that a new chapter has begun.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Is today but yet just another day
Always here, always now, never to be escaped
Is tomorrow so far it will always be away
We plan, we think, we anticipate, but we never quite enter in
Is yesterday gone forever
Lost like the warmth in cold December
Only flickers of sunshine to remind us that summer was once
Today is always here, yesterday is always gone, and tomorrow never really comes
Monday, June 13, 2011
Shreya McCoy gazed up from her book and stared out her bedroom window. Fifty yards off, like the wall a giant garden, stood the trees of Blanchard Forest. Just below them ran Meadow Creek, separating the McCoy property and the wilderness beyond. The now rotting wood bridge Shreya her older brother Tabor built five years ago, with the help of their father, still worked. Indeed, it worked great, as Shreya knew from her recent winter excursions into the woods. Christmas break began two days ago.
Monday, June 6, 2011
A melody, a theme, a song
To which the verses of my life are sung
Is there a story out there
Which shows the trials of my journey
The tears, the fears, the struggles
The things I hold in memory
Or the people I’ve known, the places I’ve seen
The times I shared with friends
Is there another in the world
Who’s life is similar to mine
Or at least who’s worries, and cares, and dreams
Are compatible with mine
What song is there, what music is there
To which my life is sung
Is it the tune I write, you write
Or only the infinite may write
What story is there, what book is there
That shows my life to come
Is it the book I write, we write,
Or am I just a character
In the story of all our lives
What person is there in the world somewhere
To whom can be my light
Is she here, as she gone
Or has she still not yet been sung
Friday, May 27, 2011
Like a wave I fail to ride
Oh what shame I’d have
What sorrow I’d feel
What pain I’d feel inside!
Life is an opportunity
A chance, and a possibility
It’s up to me to create my story
To live to the best my ability
And be sure this life was true for me
The creator lies within
I am alone, yet always with Him
If I choose to glide
Choose to ride the waves of life
Will I have the strength, the will, the dreams
The love and hope I need to survive
What dreams will I achieve
What passions will I grow
What struggles will I come to know?
We should take advantage of our muses’ vacations to fill up on what intoxicated us in the first place – things I like filling up on include music, musicals, plays, films, books, art, history, lectures, hiking, biking, socializing. Then, after this hiatus, come back to our creative incubations and see if we can ignite that spark again, hopefully having been refueled. Allowing ourselves the freedom not to write, to put it all on hold for a while, may be just what we need. We should take note when our muses depart and begin planning our own vacation.