Marianne Williamson

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Ecclesiastes

As it would happen, my thoughts seem to rest on Ecclesiastes;

that wondrous book that always helps me along in my cyclical (and often cynical) thinking. Its somewhat exhausting (cyclical thinking, that is), but so is arguing with God, and I've yet to give up on that, so it would seem this is right up my alley.

And here is where it starts: Christmas.

I wont be going home for Christmas. This is my first Christmas away from home. Unable to attend both this festive event and my best friend and sisters weddings (both of which fall on the same day, as luck and poor planning would have it), I was faced with the options of 1) taking a month off work and possibly getting fired, 2) quitting and being destitute and jobless, 3) not going to one of the most important days of my best friend and sisters lives, or 4) missing Christmas with my family on the day that was best estimated that Jesus was actually born. Naturally, the 4th option was the only proper option to choose.

Why are you spending Christmas alone, Barbara?

That's a good question, which, I must admit, is not fully decided upon. But that is neither here nor there. To be honest, I don't have to spend Christmas alone. I have had several offers from several gracious hosts all of whom told me that I would be welcome to join them and their families for Christmas dinner. Somewhere between seeing the variety of great friends to choose from and being told that some of the hosts regularly have 'strays', I found a somewhat bitter-sweet taste in my mouth.

Aside from not liking the comparison of a stray cat to myself, I found myself struggling with another thought: how was I to choose from the friends that offered me a place at their table? Wouldn't picking one be saying that they are the closest to family that I have here and so were a natural choice to be with? For you, the answer may be no, but for me? I have only ever spent Christmas with my family and cannot picture a more appropriate way to spend Christmas than being surrounded by the people who have given me more love, hope and grace, so the idea of choosing someone would be like choosing someone that was closest to my family.

That got me to thinking about family. How do I define family? These past couple of years I've been trying to broaden my outlook of family to include church and friends and coworkers and neighbors and, and, and yet, when I get down to it, I have a hard time seeing family in people that often aren't there for me as unconditionally as my own flesh and blood. I find it hard to be open as if these people were my family and worse yet, I found it incredibly hard to break in, and I'm not sure it was a one time deal. I feel like I have to continually break into a community so that I can fight for acceptance and love, just so I can call it my family. And so, my thinking shifted away from family and more towards home, a concept that I thought I had begun to get a grip on. Well, let me tell you.

Home. How do I define home? I've written songs about home, figuring that home was less of a location and less of who you surround yourself with but more of a sense of self, that home was your central base, the origin in your heart that defined who you were: where every hope we've had, every dream we've dreamed, every word and prayer that we've meant -- that was what I had started to peg home as. Turns out, when Josh Groban sings "I'll be home for Christmas", he doesn't mean that he's going to be true to his hopes and dreams. My backup idea of home was heaven, and to tell the truth, I don't think that's where Josh Groban was planning on spending Christmas either. So, is home where your stuff is and the people are at? Which got me thinking, Ecclesiastes, eh?

What do Christmas and the idea of home being where all your stuff is have in common? STUFF! You get stuff at Christmas, and where do you keep it?

(Ususally) at home. Aha! Ecclesiastes pops into my head at this moment in time.

IT'S ALL MEANINGLESS.

But then I get to thinking, but it's not meaningless. Christ is our meaning. That's why Christmas is such a big deal, right? It was a gift to us when Christ came into the world and we celebrate it by giving and hoping and sharing love and hot chocolate and... and then I realize, I wont be home for Christmas.

... I wont be home for Christmas.

And so then I get to thinking, well, Christmas, I mean, if its all about giving and sharing and loving and hot chocolate, then whats to stop me from just volunteering and loving and caring and giving and sharing my hot chocolate with someone in a soup kitchen? Why not spend Christmas with people who really need some loving and hot chocolate given to them? Which gets me to thinking, why is this just a Christmas attitude, that we exclusively give gifts on the day of the birth of our Saviour? I mean, sure, its very worth celebrating, don't get me wrong, I do not want to under emphasize that fact. But I'm sure that our Saviour would want this attitude to extend long past the day of his birth and to spill over into each and every day and hour and minute, right? Which gets me to thinking, why is Christmas made such a big deal of? Why don't we just give presents and loving and giving and sharing and HOT CHOCOLATE ALL THE TIME?! Which makes me think, is the Christmas we celebrate really just the consumeristic holiday? Which lead me right back to...

ECCLESIASTES.

my brain will find its way back to the root it settles on, every time.

exhausting.

Poisoned.

... and I never thought I'd live to tell the tale.

Once upon a time, I drank poison.
The poison, bitter to the immediate taste, foul smelling, bubbling and smoking, a green acid contained in a glass vial marked with skull and cross bones, various hazard symbols and the promise of a slow corrosive death.



Despite the warnings, I chose not only to drink on, but to drink deeply of this venomous toxin. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to feel a change. It was killing me. Suddenly, remorse gripped my soul. I began looking for an antidote, but I could feel the cancer consuming my being. Tears began pouring, gushing from my eyes as I looked helplessly to the heavens.
Oh God, what had overtaken me?





I had succumb to jealousy.













Now, many months down the road, I feel cleansed, renewed and refreshed. Flushed from my body, I am amazed to tell you that I am alive and well...

... and I never thought I'd live to tell the tale.

Dear...

Dear God,
I'm at the end of my rope.

I cant play this tug of war anymore.
I dont want to play this game.
I wont keep trying to win what I've never been good at.

Oh God.
I'm ready and waiting.

I hate the presence of loneliness,
I hate the time spent alone,
and I hate feeling like I'll feel like this forever.


MY GOD!
I'm so tired of trying.
What more do I need to say? to do?
Laid open, here in front of You, what more can I do?

je suis fini.

Whisper My Soul...

There is a tension?
a discord?
an imbalance?

There is a disconnect between
what I can express
and what my soul needs to utter.

No, I cannot
within all of my abilities
convey what my inner most being needs
only to whisper.































So overwhelming, so hard to breathe.
Oh why you'd build your temple in me?

I will move, God take my feet.
Lord, I believe.
Lord, I believe.

Ears to listen, hands to free.
Lord, I believe.
Lord, I believe.

My shoulders here, O come and grieve.
Lord, I believe.
Lord, I believe.

Build your church, start with me.
Lord, I believe.
Lord, I believe.

Humble me. Humble me.
I believe, Lord. I believe.

Something

There's something in me that tells me that I am strong enough to pull a cover over this.

To look what I am facing in the eye and simply say, "No."

To put it in a box and say, "I don't need to deal with you. Ever. Because you aren't an issue."

To see that pain and hurt and say that it's simply not real, because I refuse to acknowledge it.

To go on, stoic, strong and unaffected, ready to help people deal with their pains and emotions.





It's foolproof.
It's that something that I've used countless times.




It's knowing that it's okay if people aren't there for me, because I've never needed it before.


It's knowing that it's okay to feel alone, because I've gotten through before.


It's knowing that the unbearable weight on my chest will go away eventually because sleep is inevitable.


It's knowing that I don't need to talk about it, because I have no one to listen anyway.














There's something in me that tells me that I am strong enough...
























... it's the same something that tells me that strength comes from being detached and alone...






















Something is a lie.


















It's knowing...
it's knowing that I am not strong enough.
... that hardness sets in.
... facades fade.
... I am weak.



It's knowing that there is a glimmer of hope.
Deut. 316

longings

Its hard having longings like these -- longings to be elsewhere, longings to have answers, longings for relationships.

How long?
How long, O Lord?

There are so many things that I wish I could talk about with my mom. I want that connection with her so badly, but I know most of those conversations would look like me spilling my heart only to be met with, "uh huh" or "that's interesting" or "if it makes you happy" or worst of all, that quiet smile and nod which means there's really nothing to say other than "I think you're a little crazy".


Then there's a feeling of guilt when I talk to other women -- usually moms of my friends. The guilty feeling that I'm trying to connect more with someone else other than my mom. Would it break my mom's heart to know that? That's how I feel. So I dont usually have those kind of conversations.

And now, now I feel a void.
Now I feel that ache -- not dull and lifeless, but the kind of ache that almost makes my chest too heavy to breathe.

What do I do?
How can I not be jealous that other girls have their moms as best friends and all I long for is to be able to have one real conversation with mine about things that matter?
I feel alone and trapped in my circumstances.

How long, O Lord?
How long?

Deserts and Broken Rubber Boots

'Get out of this town and get away'.

It's easy to walk away from our problems.

Sometimes I walk when I'm upset; to clear my head, relieve my emotions, or to just simply forget why I'm upset in the first place.

I planned on such a walk last night. I put on my rubber boots to combat the sparse few drops of rain, put on a hoodie and decided to walk right out of town. I needed to get out, get away.





Three blocks later, the rain had picked up considerably and it had started to pour.









Armed with soaking wet jeans, a drenched hoodie, and a pair of rubber boots that had a mysterious leak and were too small of a fit, I began to talk to God.

Talk?
Maybe less of a talk and more of sobbing yell.

Why God? Why do things always have to end up like this? Why cant I do things right? Why do I always mess up? Why do I always end up feeling lonely? Why, why, why...



You feel lonely, but you're not alone.











'It took a storm to clear my head'.

















After getting out my frustrations, I realized that maybe not all deserts are dry. Mine happened to be in the middle of nowhere in the midst of an insane downpour.







I had forgotten how to listen, how to trust and obey.

God told me that I would have a ride home and that I needed some alone time after He made me various other promises.

As I was nearing Meadow Woods, I thought, great, this was all in my head, I wasn't really hearing God at all. He promised me a ride and I'm in town. No one stops and offers rides to people in town. Well, if I dont get a ride, I'll know that all those promises I heard were just what I wanted to hear.

Then someone pulled over.
Kumar offered me a ride, his phone number (should I be stuck in the rain again) and some money if I needed anything.




'I've seen (heard) the voice of God again'.
God is faithful.
God is true.
God is good.

Bindings

Sometimes I think I'm bound my misunderstandings.



Sometimes, the things I think that I know for sure end up being things that, to be completely honest, I don't know about at all.

Pride, insecurity, and stubbornness contribute to my "perfect" understanding of circumstances.

Ending up choked by my perceptions of a situation, I would rather suffocate to death than to ask for a clarifying (and often) freeing release of my own preconceived ideas.



Sometimes I think I'm bound by the perceptions of others.



Sometimes the way in which others voice their opinions of me or the way that nothing has to be said at all to speak volumes in my life has had too much say in determining who I am and who I will become.

Struggling to listen to the things that matter and having the wisdom to take into account what I need to grow as a person, all the while discarding things that have no truth in my life has been a balance issue I've almost always faced.

Sometimes the urgency between listening and doing gets mixed up, and eagerly I make wrong mistakes desiring to be rid of decisions.





Bound.




Bound by so many things.









Sometimes this bondage seems unbearable.













O, to grace how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be.












Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to Thee.



Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for Thy courts above.

with arms wide open as the sun

what is that i hear?
what is that majestic sound?

tears of miracles and destiny are falling hard on my pillow.

what more is there to fear?
what else can drag me down?

truth as innocent as love can sting worse than the greatest anger.

with arms wide open as the sun
i seek to leap and long to run
you'll catch
we'll fly
oh, oh, oh...
yet-- 
no no no.
not you, nor i
can i handle this majestic sound?
i wont let you know
when you're around
my heart...
pound, pound, pound

you know my heart.
and still...
come down.
you know who I am...





sinner
noun. pécheur(-eresse) m/f

and still...
come down.
and still...
and still...
and still...

whisper to me

i need to hear your words
whisper them to me
over and over
soft and tender


"truth" and "love"

Backwards

The sun is rising in the east,
Birds aren't flying, cause they 
decided it was quicker when they traveled on their feet

Spring time brings the autumn leaves,
The North is getting colder,
it decided that it didn't believe in global warming

What's happening?
Things are backwards, backwards, backwards, backwards, backwards cant you see
What's happening?
Am I slowly going crazy or is this reality?

Bread is rising without yeast,
Politicians tell the truth, they never lie, it's the newest policy

Pigs are defying gravity,
Public pools are chlorine free, little kids have decided they wont --

What's happening?
Things are backwards, backwards, backwards, backwards, backwards cant you see
What's happening? 
Am I slowly going crazy or is this reality?

What's happening?
Things are backwards, backwards, backwards, backwards, backwards 
backwards, backwards, backwards, backwards... cant you see?

Desserts vs Oceans

I love the water.
I love water games, I love water sports, I love the way that water gleams and sparkles in the sunlight, moonlight and starlight.
I love the water.

I did not always love the water.
When I was younger, I had a fear of deep and turbulent waters. I feared drowning or being lost at "sea". I feared that I was not strong enough to conquer the waves and that help would not get there soon enough should I start to slip beneath the glassy surface.


But, after time, practice, and lots of money spent on swimming lessons, I learned to overcome my fears and appreciate the gift that God had given me.

I learned that sometimes storms and deep water were necessary to help me grow, and that I didn't have to be worried that I might not be strong enough, because Help was always nearby.


--
Now I find that I have a new fear: lack of water.

I fear the desert.
I fear that dry place, where I'm thirsty all the time, where I see mirages and feel like I'm surrounded by death and wastelands.
I fear the desert.

I fear that I am lost in the desert. I fear that my throat is too dry to cry out for help, that the wind and sands will confuse and disorient me and that I will become even more lost than I already am. I fear that fatigue will overtake me, loneliness will overwhelm me, and silence will drive me mad. 

I fear the desert.
Or perhaps more than that, I fear desertion.



O God, show me that the desert is a place that I can grow.
Show me how to appreciate the desert without feeling abandoned or deserted.