well... it's my birthday too, yeah

...today is my birthday....
will you do something for me today? -consider it a gift to me that you do this.
Even though you may feel silly, or awkward doing it, please do it for me.
Ready? ...here it is:

today I want you to go look at yourself in the mirror
[preferably a full length one.... really look at yourself -for like 3 minutes]
oh... & this part is for the girls mostly,
don't just look at what's "too big or too small"
don't listen to the voices
that say your nothing at all
& realize.....
you are priceless.
you are a gift. you are a work of art, masterfully carved by The Artist.

love,
B

to continue reflecting on gifts, among other things...

My gift posts & poems haven't "come out" the way I first envisioned them to. But I will continue, on this with this post....[picking up from yesterday:]

...anyway, I know it's tough to see yourself as a gift sometimes. We are our own greatest enemies. As a video, created by a self-injurer, so powerfully put it: "Where do you go, to escape from yourself?"
While I cannot escape from myself, I'm learning [painfully slowly] that it isn't really so important what I'm running from.... as it is who I'm running to. I'm not perfect [I know someone who is...but I'm not Him]. I don't have all the answers [I'm not even sure I have all the right questions].... but I know who does have all the answers. And sometimes I lie on the floor & pound my fists into the dirt & beg & cry for the answers.....& sometimes.... I'm afraid He might actually give them to me [afraid that getting the answer won't make me feel any better...or fix anything]. The answer I really need, the stuff I really need to know & cling to is:
I'm loved.
I'm loved by THE somebody.
[& He's not the only one...]
I've written this, this way, partly because I suspect I'm not the only one who needs to read it just that way. In the First person, singular.
I WAS going to go to a concert tomorrow. [tomorrow being my birthday]
I'm not going. I'm VERY mad that I'm not going [at least, as of this writing I'm not.. I'm very "wishy washy" about it at this point]....but not for the reason you'd expect.
I'm mad at ME. I waited till this last week to even ask anybody if they wanted to go.
I just "assumed" [& we all know what happens when you assume don't we?] that
"no one would want to go with me to this."
I emailed some friends about going.... not one of them said:
#1 "No, I'm not interested. Why would you ask me?"
#2 "I really HATE Jazz, Brian -sorry."
#3 "I'm sorry, I just don't like him"
Nope. Not one person said any of those things.... but I planned this as if they had. How cruel.
As a matter of fact. My answers were: "Sorry, I'd love to, but I'm really crazy busy right now"
"I think we'll pass this time, but thanks for asking us."
"I'd love to go to see him with you, maybe next time I can go along."

Why do I do this? I essentially gagged them & made up my own answer. ...which makes me wonder.... do I do this to God, too??

[tomorrow I'll try make my last post on this. It's just a little favor...]

The Anatomy of a Gift

The Anatomy of a Gift [or how I see humans, the appreciation of my friends]
As I have said [probably too many times now] Humans are The Sculptures of God.
Your clothes, glasses, jewelry, hair color [if you die it, anyway], tattoos, etc. are the wrapping paper. Your body is the box... but your soul is the gift. It is the essence of you. I look at my friends, my family, my wife... as someone who goes to a gallery looks at photos, paintings, & sculptures. I'm thankful for my friends. [& my family. I've known a lot of people who's families suck. I am blessed, believe me. My life would have been so much worse...& probably a whole lot shorter, if it were not for family.]
I'm thankful for all of my gifts. You may not believe it... but you are a gift.
[& now, "gift poems" 2 of 3]

A poem to my gifts….

You have no clue
Do you?
How very significant
You are.
How you are
The very physical
Tangible
Hug of Yahweh
Just by walking by
Saying “hi”
Your message
Your email
Never liked
Being followed
Till
A couple of you
“twittered”
That you were
And
It just meant
I’m not alone
What happens
To me matters
Thanks,
Seems
Like such a small word
For it
…
I’m so glad
That God made
Each of you
Not only that
But He is actually willing
To share you all with me
You are art
You rival
The sky
The grand canyon
In all it’s spender
Is not as wonderful
As each of you.
One day
I hope
He pulls back the veil
And lets you
See you
As I do
Only then
Will
You understand
Why
I love you
Thanks for
Loving me, too…

So…
Once again
It’s my birthday
…but
I’m not waiting
To see what I “get”
I have
A priceless gift
You…
[all I want is you]

The best friends…

When you’ve come unglued,
You’re insides have all been spewed
You’ve exploded,
& your heart lies in a million pieces
They walk in…
They are the only ones
who dare….
They dare to care
“here’s a piece”, one will say
“I found one, too”, not far away
They gather all the pieces
of your once whole soul
Then they kneel before Him
& this is what they’ll say
“Daddy,
… he’s broken
… please…. fix him”

By brian n.
[written several years ago]

you are a gift,
you matter,
don't forget...

I'll explain later...

a poem, about gifts. I'm working on something rather lengthy right now. [oh...yeah, I am feeling more "me". My stomach is settling, I have 3 days left till the pills are gone!]

Real Gifts

Birthdays

And Christmas

I get gifts

On these days

I must make a list

Of “what I want”

So I might receive

Some of these things

Books

Music

Art

Tools to fix things

Things that need tools

Just to put them together

Out for dinner

Perhaps a movie

A long walk

A fruitful talk

A scenic view

Enjoyed by few

But…

Lately…

I can’t seem to make

Long lists

Like I used to

…

Truth is

You can’t buy

What I want

They don’t sell it

That’s ok

…I couldn’t afford it anyway

The things I’ll get

Nice as they will be

[cannot add up, to you & me]

They are “post it” notes

As far as I can see

Reminders

That you love me

Sometimes

I cannot imagine

Why

…but I cannot

Imagine

Living

Without it

You will ask me again

This year

[and soon, now, I know]

“What do you want

For your birthday?”

Really

Honestly

I know it’s hard

For you to believe

I know

You don’t think it’s much

But

All

I want

Is you

by brian n.

A movie I must see

ok... that didn't go as planned [A movie I must see]

I saw this trailer [previous post] when I went to see Seven Pounds.
Don't know why, but I'm going to see this next Sat. afternoon.....
I just kind of love stories where someone is found....
Someone who seems marginalized or "thrown away" by the world [maybe overlooked is less harsh].
I think my favorite line is when Robert Downy Jr says:
"being his friend..... will carry you home."
[& I love the 2 songs. This trailer's classical one -don't know the title or composer. & the TV spot with "Human" by The Killers]
Went to my favorite bookstore on Fri. before my allergy appointment [thankfully it was "on the way"] & Hearts & Minds has the book of this movie! [why am I surprised? They always have cool stuff.]

....as you can see, I'm all over the place lately. my emotions seem like the weather, "if you don't like 'em wait fifteen minutes". [which is code for please bear with me]
today I'm stepping down to 2 pills a day!!! which hopefully means my stomach will feel better.
I need to get back to my usual "hang with Him routine" now....
enjoy the trailer.

a few darker poems....

As I sat trying to make a message from a twitter/blog post from twloha for [of all things] a twitter to Hugh Jackman [yeah, the movie star one... I have completely lost it]
I also am thinking over a conversation from Wed. night.
and listening to "Born" by Over the Rhine......

to make a sound

you don't know
how hard it is
to speak
do you?
the thoughts
that run
though
someone's head
afraid
of how
you'll be
if the silence
is broken
sorry
to have
such
painful
violent
memories

You don't know
what it's like
to live through
something
only to realize
...you wish
you hadn't.

You don't realize
how healing
it can be
to speak
...& be heard.
still cared for...
still wanted...
still accepted...
to have someone
sit
in the ugly darkness
refusing
to leave you there

But once someone does
He can show up
in such a way
suddenly
He
has hands
feet
arms His love
transferred
through
the care of another soul
suddenly
even when sickness
sadness
darkness
returns
it is uncomfortable
.....not me
anymore....


can't say: "yes"

I cannot
just give up
& die.
not that I haven't wanted to...
I just can't
I can say it
I can believe it
but I cannot bring it
into my story
like a
pc filter
that kicks
you out of a place
you shouldn't be in
I am "locked out"
of giving up.

Strange,
I spent
far too much time
"right outside the door"
"let me die!!!
"No"
came the thunderous whisper
a secret voice
I cannot
disobey
[or stand against]
so I sat
camped outside a door
I have no place opening

...seems strange now,
to remember that time
even as illness
depresses me
today.....
it's different
I can enter depression
but it cannot stay with me
it can't keep up
...though
it tries to come
between me
and my friends
it is too weak now
my friends
too strong
too close
[perhaps too prayerful]
like bouncers
they stand between us
and echo
the whispered "NO"
"you can't be here....
leave..."

my friends
are a true
and strong
gift.

Sorry I'm a bit darker here. I probably shouldn't post these. But for now I'll leave them up...
soldiers to stand watch....
to remind me of Jamie's blog ending [& now a shirt]
"Wake up
your alive
we're on your side"
B

If I owned a radiostation [& still not feeling well]

Well, my med.'s have me all over the place. [don't feel well, physically... or emotionally really. It stinks, out loud.] But, I'm still trying to do new things.... in that vein, I now have a "make-shift" radio on the bottom of this blog. [hope you can listen too, if you'd like. I'm "just getting my feet wet" in it. Chick won't have a singer with him, that I know of, but it's one of my fav.'s]
Don't know if I'll actually post [twitter/facebook/email] much over the next few days.
Sadly, I'm quite miserable.
And music is the only drug I love taking....
Good night, sleep well [dream big]
B

...ok, said I'd update everywhere

I'm trying to "make good" here....
So, I went to see the ENT today [I know, it's after 12 am, so yesterday].
I don't need surgery. I will be on Prednisone for a week or so. He said that I have the "beginnings" of a polyp on the left side, but it's early enough that this should help to fix everything. Don't have to go for another 6 months. I'm glad to be [or seem to be] through the worst of my allergies. Though, I have been full of energy one day [or hour], & wiped out the next. We did discuss that I should get the allergy shots. Not fun [have I mentioned my love of needles? {add sarcasm}] I'm relieved that I won't need surgery. I have my vacation time back [to use completely as I choose]. I have projects that need done around the house, so I'll have more time for them.
I was dreading a "round 2" of needing help [something I am horrid at asking for], & the last time I woke up [from surgery -"post op"] was jarring -to say the least. I like knowing: how I got where I am/ who all is near me/ where my exit is/ knowing that I won't have to use Cnctema to get to the exit [wherever it is]. ...Why? let's just say [for now] that my childhood wasn't dull. [oh, & for a somewhat brief knowledge of Cnctema, click here, or here. Mikhail Ryabko's best student is: Vladimir Vasiliev one of who's best students is Steven Bentz... who at one time, said the same of me. This is probably all I'll say about martial arts for a while. Though I believe Systema -as it is spelled in English- has taught me a lot about my creator. Which is where I'll bother picking up if I ever talk about it again.]
Well, that was a rabbit trail & a half.
So anyway, I should go for now... this post feels very "disjointed" & like some sort of train wreck between a facebook post & 2 blog posts that don't go together.
So I'll get "back to sanity" [& poems] now....

to short for a title [...or prelude to the Labyrinth]

Well... This is somewhat my life right here. -actually, it is what my life has been. Sometimes more slowly than I'd like, I am untwisting. I am in a state that is both exciting, & terrifying. I'm hoping to have the courage [now that the Labyrinth is over] to share a bit of my journey through it. For now though, I must go.
I get to find out [tomorrow] if I'm going to have another round surgery....

latest challenges....

I'll start with a simple one [as I listen to Miles Davis' The Complete In A Silent Way Sessions set].
The latest challenge from L.L. [well, ok poems wise, anyway]
"if words were..."

A Love of Language
how odd it is
that I love language
so
when
sometimes
I seem so
"self quarantining"
from it's use
walling myself
away
from
those
who would
encourage
those who would
protect me
from my
own
dark words

...but
thank God
for journaling,
for poem challenges,
for friends
to share poems with,
who care
about me
the writer
of such oddities
Thank God
for a chance
to use words
as keys
to unlock
and open
the mystery
of me.

...oh
if words were
chocolate
they'd have to be
dark chocolate
rich
and sweet
some melt
in your mouth
and bring a smile
to your lips
caress the taste buds
making you long for more
of this
delicacy...

if words were
wine
to lift
to your lips
to sniff
the aroma
they purvey
to sip, tenderly
to swish around
in your mind
to ponder the painting
they evoke
to ingest them
hoping, praying they will
help to
challenge
to change
you deep in your soul
to make you different
than you were
before....

if words were
an ocean
[& they sometimes are]
washing over me
with all their power,
all their adventure,
all their daring,
yet lying with them
as they are absorbed
into the skin of my soul
to linger in them
to enjoy
the way
they effortlessly
reintroduce me
to a good friend
the way they connect me
to a community
of souls
encouraging me to use them
as wings
to soar up, out, away
from what
gets in my way
to free me
from the junk
brought to me
by my day

Words help me so much. Journaling, blogging, emailing, even "facebooking" seem to help me "let it out" & let others in. Sometimes simultaneously. I'm "more glad tonight" than usual. Today shouldn't bother me, but it did. My poor neighbor, trying to be nice by waiting for me to park my car, is slighted by my poor reaction to it. I cannot even be helped out of this lousy feeling.... at least not till I quickly "run" into the house, up stairs to my music.... which is why I'm listening to Miles Davis. For some odd reason, this is soothing to my soul tonight. Music & words. Tonight, I'm thankful for both. I'm fine, now. Calmed down from my "spaz" of earlier. Even Cnctema [the martial art I took for years] tells me, woven all through it, to be calm. You hurt yourself & others far less if you stop resisting, & being so stiff. Which leads me to thoughts of God...... is He trying to "move me" & I'm resisting? Is He simply trying to say "hey, chill out"?

As for the posts on dreams from High callings & Co. My dream seems to be more in the hands of others right now. A dream of a permenant "Sacred Space" or Labyrinth. A hybrid of Sacred space...& healing space. A place, a space to try art "on for size". A place to "hang with the Almighty". A place to learn to "live into your skin". This year is many things for me. Being comfortable in & living into my skin is one of them. I didn't die of mortal embarrassment on putting my real name to the Grace found me poem. [featured in INKLINGS] Nor did I have problems with having a picture on the cover. [though, I DO feel like I'm bragging to mention & link to it. But I want to brag about the others who are in there, & deAnn's wonderful way of putting them together. Check out the whole "issue" it's really good!]

On another blog, a very wonderful talk about being naked [though, not the porno idea of it that naturally comes to mind in a culture such as ours]. Naked in a healing sense. In a sharing sense. To recognize the shame we often feel. The difficult way of being real about our struggles. On Stuff Christians Like [which, usually does a nice job with comedy] Jon writes some serious questions. He'd love the stuff I wrote in the Labyrinth on one of my visits. About 3 pages of questions, fears... painfully honest fears & questions. And a "God sized" challenge. [on what to do with them] I have begun [last night, yet again] to try to write about abuse. Largely, for the purpose of sharing a "color poem". My first red poem came out & I thought ....who could read this? To my suprise, the few who've read it like it. I won't say more on it. But if I post twice in a night... that may be why. I also thought, & hope to, write a post on the anatomy of a gift. And what my favorite gifts are. [i would share pictures of these gifts, but I don't have permission]

May His grace
drip from your fingers...

the 3 mysteries of place [part 3]

Well, my eyes hurt a bit, ....but my ears have been caressed by the sounds of Bruce Cockburn's new live one. So this will be brief.
2 quotes I love by musicians....

“My job is to try and trap the spirit of things in the scratches of pen on paper, in the pulling of notes out of metal,” - Bruce Cockburn

“I'm always thinking about creating. My future starts when I wake up every morning . . . Every day I find something creative to do with my life.”
- Miles Davis

The sacred mysterious presence…

You show up

In unexpected times

Peace,

Grace,

Mercy,

Unending love,

All ride with You

Like You were

Bringing

Dark chocolate

Or a fine wine

To “secretly share”

With me

Nothing compares

To our times together

You redefine joy

Every time

You show up

I’m never quite the same

Afterward

You

Change everything

Sometimes You show up

…as I’m driving to work

Sometimes

We get to go to the Labyrinth together

[You are always there,

And it feels like I’ve walked into Your living room

-especially this year]

Sometimes

I need

To spit things out

To get them

Off my chest

Thankfully

You are fine with that

Sometimes

I just need to

Not be alone

And You

Just set down

And be still

With me

You

By being You

Make

Any place

Sacred

By showing up

You let me

Scream at You

Be really upset

You are still You

And I still

Desperately

Need You

[so bad I can taste it]

You are

The origin

Of my anti-depression

Like one of

“our songs” says,

“like black coffee,

Like nicotine,

…like honey

On a tongue,

Like oxygen,

I need Your love”

I really do….


God, my father...
thanks for letting me drown
in the ocean of Your love.......