Friday, January 31, 2014

a poem from Mon.

I may write more later on this. Mon. I got to hear Renee Yohe speak & perform songs from her EP, Bearcat: Rawr. It was a great experience. If you get the opportunity to listen to her, take it. She has a great voice, & her talk was wonderful. I wrote bits of this while waiting for the evening to start. I haven't taken such a constant stream of notes in a long time. I'd write the whole time she talked, & sit drinking in the lyrics as she sang.

To hear a girl speak
I sit here
feeling a little bit
out of place
listening to
people pop bubbles
the room into
this outdoor
the popping
sounding for all the world
like a bonfire
at my uncle's cabin
I don't know why
it seems to me
people are more honest
sitting around one
just telling it
"like it is"
which isn't always
truth is like that though
this girl walks onto
the stage
sits down
like she's in a living room
and shares
"straight up"
things she's learned in life
wasn't always very pretty
yet this isn't
"please pity me"
this is
don't let yourself
get suckered
like I did
the young age
and looks
she wears
her words seem to be
soaked up by
the quiet people
in attendance
especially me
with my pen
jotting down
things to remember
things to carry with me
into the inevitable battles
that lie ahead
I am thankful
to be allowed to be here
and later wonder
if this gal
and her guitar playing friend
made it home safe.

b.e. noll 

Sunday, January 26, 2014


So many words. We hear them…we speak them. Sometimes we measure them. Sometimes we mull them over in our minds for hours before we speak any. Words can: hurt, heal, describe, sooth, cut, hit, fall flat, soar… 
"...& my mind is like a wet stone now, sharpening things to throw..."  from the song Can't You Feel the Chains? by Chagall Guevara from their self titled debut.
Sometimes the words that hurt us the most…are not spoken with any mouth. Not heard with ears…for they are spoken inside our very own minds. Sometimes those sentences are the most horrible, abusive sentences on Earth. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy. No one can be more cruel, sometimes, than we can be to ourselves. After all, when someone else beats us up… they leave. As someone on youtube once put it: “where do you go to get away from yourself?” Ouch.
Each of us wonders if we are the only one who hears these words. We are not. We need to fight against these sentences. Sometimes we need to hear better sentences. I wanted to post on this months ago. I just didn’t find the right words [ironic, huh?]. I hope that this doesn’t come off as a “quick fix”. Or a gloss over of this topic. I just wanted to speak on this. I know too many people who hear bad sentences inside themselves. I’ve known people like this for years. You really would not believe the people who hear such terrible thoughts in their head. The pretty girls… who think they are the ugliest thing in the world. The talented artists, gifted people, who think they don’t have a gifted bone in their body. I hate seeing it in others… yet I have been known to let it slide with myself. Anyway, I wanted to speak…well, post against those voices. This is my attempt at such. It’s part of the reason I’ve “followed” twhloha on twitter. Because they are constantly tweeting against these sentences.with ones that resonate with the following:
You are valuable. 
You matter. 
Your story is important.
You are the only you 
we’ll ever get. 
You are an original…
May His grace drip from your fingers,

Thursday, January 23, 2014

now... sorta

As I continue to grow. I continue to create. To attempt to be creative. This is both a joy...& slightly unnerving. To create & then allow others to view the created "thing"... is to bare one's soul. To allow someone into your private space. You have probably guessed by now that allowing others into my "private space" isn't very easy for me. "Baring my soul" as it were, is not a favorite pastime for me. I learned at a young age that the more I keep to myself the more I can be left alone. Not bothered by people who don't really care about knowing you, except to use that info to make you miserable. If you don't know what I'm thinking... you won't know what bothers me. You won't know if you are bothering me. This came to be a very safe procedure for me. However, you don't really get to know or be known when you do this. It can be tolerated for a while... however, it will frustrate people after a time. They will give up, or get discouraged when they don't seem to get closer to you. Also, what you know...will pass away. As you have not let anyone learn what you know, before you ceased to exist. So... in a way, I'm at war with myself on this. You would not believe the times I sit here, nervously wondering if I should post something. Should I really let you know... this about me? What will it do to your understanding of me? What will you do with this knowledge? Will I like it? Will it give us something to talk about? Will it draw us together...or push us apart?
Then there are other questions...
Is this just me ranting? [Verbal "throw up" or, as Renee puts it: "word vomit"] Is this helpful? Will it heal or hurt the person who reads it? Is this just a chance to shock someone or can they really get something valuable from it?
The questions can go on forever. Sometimes they seem to.
Lately I got stuck. I just couldn't talk much anymore. I "ran aground on the sea of words". It happens to me, sometimes. Maybe it's feelings that words cannot express. Maybe I just need time to construct the sentences, Other times, my brain starts off in about 12 million directions at once. Sometimes one of these follows the other. [like right now for example. I'm currently writing about 3 blog posts at once.] I'm mulling around the idea of wasted. I'm also thinking about words. The good, the bad, & the ugly of words.
So I think I'll get back to these posts. To see what comes of them...
May His gracew drip from your fingers,

Monday, January 20, 2014

just breathe

not having as much trouble breathing today. However, I'm not in a real chatty mood. I just feel like being alone. Yet I couldn't help but write a little about breathing....


You just want
To breathe
You can’t explain
Why you feel
Like you do
You just do
“Can you just
let me feel
the way I feel?”
Even if
it scares you?
I’ll live
I’m not a danger
To myself
I don’t want
To be a danger
To anyone
I just want to breathe
To hear the sound
Of my own lungs
I just need some space
I know
I’m not very big
I need to get lost
In a space
That’s bigger
Than me
Living in this skin
Is too small
A space for me
Getting lost
Is the best way
To be found
To just sit
& breathe
Seems simple
It isn’t always
by b.e. noll

sometimes we just need to take some time..... just sit.... & breathe... guess that's me tonight. 
I've always liked this song. Today's a good day to post it....
May His grace drip from your fingers,

Thursday, January 16, 2014

The Concrete Room: revisited

I'd like to move in multiple directions in a given time frame. So, I'm going to attempt to do this with you here. I'm not sure I won't fail. Fall down & sputter through it. However, I'm going to try anyway. I have a good friend, who happens to have a job as a therapist. He's another voice saying that I should write my story out. After doing so I should get someone to read it & help me with it. So it can get published.
...[can I just say it? what I really think of this.] [deep breathe... ok, here we go]
short answer: This is crazy. Why would anyone want to read my story? I don't want to read my story. It doesn't make sense. It makes Star Wars look like a true story, a documentary. I don't believe it & I was there! [I have to stop there before I start writing in all caps. Did you notice how I looked like I was asking you if this was ok, but I didn't really wait for you to respond before launching into this? Just something to think about. The joys of blogging]
Now for a longer, muddier, answer that I don't really like as much. Yet it's more truthful.
long answer: I'm ok with reading... hearing... watching... a story with sadness & pain in it. I like true stories with stuff like that in it. I want to see DAY ONE [Renee Yohe's story. The very first "HER" in to write love on her arms]. I want to see GIMME SHELTER. I want to see SHORT TERM 12. Each one has very sad brokenness & pain in the stories. And I'm ok with that... just as long as it's not MY story. Because that story... I can't just turn off. That story doesn't have margins in it from where I sit. It's bigger than the "screen". there are parts "not in the book". "Scenes" not in the movie. Sometimes I'm not sure if it owns me or I own it... "ya know"? & I'm back to a Spock's Beard tune: "Do you have your baggage, or do your bags have you? Your doing fine, it's not too late. To lay your burden down & walk through heaven's gate..." Good bye to Yesterday, by Spock's beard, from the disc V. So, yes, I'm kind of "double standard" about this story thing. Not really a thing to be proud of, huh? I'm going for honesty. Not sure I like it, but...
So... that being said. Here's a gutsy move. Not sure how smart it is. Lets just go for guts for now. As I facebooked tonight:
"...When you stop taking chances, you stay where you sit. You won't live any longer, but it'll feel like it..." Summer Rain, by U2 [a "b-side"]

 [this isn't really part of my story, rather a feeling after telling my story]

the Concrete Room,
[an email I sent]
I've been meaning to tell you this for quite some time now. You may not remember me telling you [years ago] about a "how I felt" moment. It was after I first told a therapist my story. I told you about a room. Feeling:
"naked in a concrete room. No windows or lights. chained to the floor. [both hands & both feet] Barely seeing a wooden door in the ceiling...& not being able to reach it."
Do you remember that? I'm sure there was much more detail to it than that. However, I'm not really going to research the actual wording. The point is to take you there... as it is now.
That "room" now:
[this came to me a few weeks ago, or a month ago]
"turns out the room, at least now, is in the side of a mountain... The floor is still there, however, there's grass & weeds growing up between/ around the edges of the blocks. One of the walls is still completely there. The one against the mountain. A small part of the connecting walls is still there. Yet if you turn your back to the mountain you can see a breathtaking view. Which easily makes you forget where you are standing. In what was a dark prison cell. The ceiling is gone. small pieces of concrete, a rusty screw or two, & some splinters are all that's left to remind you there ever was a ceiling, with a door in it, at all. The shackles are vacant. Empty of their prisoner, seemingly for quite some time now. Lifeless on the floor, also rusting. The sunrise streaming onto the mountain. Into the this place like the sun itself was brandishing a thousand Katana Swords. Each stabbing into the concrete..."
Hope... runs free.
Just thought I'd share.

 I hope sharing this is a good thing. I think I'll repost a song here as well. Don't know quite why I "feel the need", anyway...
Gungor - I am Mountain

May His grace drip from your fingers,

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

[I'd love to title this, however, not sure exactly what would sum this up]

Hello all. I have to laugh at myself. A young woman from church has added me to her "circle"... this would be great... if one could believe that I understood what this means OUTSIDE of geometry class. Which, alas, I currently do not. I haven't "played" with this feature yet. So, I will be silent on this for the time being. [that is: silent on acting on this. Not silent on posting about it on my blog. Which should be good for a chuckle]
I'm posting tonight, which I probably should not. I'm still a little "under the weather". So I've been watching way too much tv, & when I'm not I'm studying my eyelids very closely. yup, they're still there, & they still function properly. I'm enjoying Renee Yohe's tumbler post. It's so cool to hear people express the same thought, in harmonious ways. Each unique to the person, yet conveying the same message. [as if using their own "dialect"] Love is not easy. It is not for the faint of heart. We are all messy. The adjectives we use are different... yet we are all broken [& yes, I'm now thinking of the song by Paramore]. Broken to the same degree...even though the cracks create different shapes on each of us. Yet... It is possible to choose isolation. It is possible to choose... something else, too. It is possible to find people... who will love you through the mess...[irregardless of who it was...that made it.] I've said it before, I'll say it again [probably too many times, I'm afraid] Love isn't pretty, it's pretty necessary.
It's strange, how love works. Seems you only feel loved... once you've given out all the reasons why someone shouldn't love you. When you've risked telling all. You sit there, in your vulnerability of knowing that you've shown every reason why someone shouldn't love you. You wait... for them to walk away... it's only when they don't... only then can you really believe you are loved. Sad. That when you seem to have lost... is when you've truly won.

The first rays of a new dawn
you feel lost
swept under something
like you'll never be found
you cannot figure out
whether or not
you want
to be found
you won't tell anyone
that you aren't sure
if you really want
to live through
this again
tells you they're
"gonna kill you"
which makes you mad
because you know they're lying
and they don't know
how bad you want death
there are others
these strange folks
who keep hanging around
"wanting" to be with you
which is weird
because you
yet this weirdness
gives birth
to beauty
like a flower
blooming slowly
it wakes you up
to glory
to color
to joy
it brings you
back to life
more than that
it brings you to a life
that you somehow
always knew
was "out there"
...and it births
that life
it's too big
to stay
it must
"burst forth"
it was meant to
you cannot stop it
when it does
you realize
were never meant to
keep it
to yourself
inside yourself
are too small
to contain it
are glad
b.e. noll

I probably won't be on here for a day or 2, now. I'm trying to get over a cold, & I have a really long day Wed. So I may just sleep tomorrow night. Take care. Know you are loved. In spite of ...THAT. Whatever "that" is for you.
I liked this trailer. Saw it on tv tonight. Looks gut wrenching, sad, yet ultimately hopeful. The last line makes me think of my parents, & all the people they have "adopted" as their kids from LW. It makes me think of LW. Some family you are born with... but... some family you get to choose[& they... choose you]
Gimme Shelter

May His grace drip from your fingers,

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Quotes... &?

hello out there. I want to write. However, it just does not seem to flow out of me right now. Some of what does... shouldn't be read. [sarcasm anyone? ...Bueller?] I believe I have a head cold. It feels like it, & it smells like it.
So, for tonight at least, I think I'll simply post a few sayings from other places online. Quotes from others...

[one that has made me think twice about posting some of my sarcasm]
"Say what you mean, mean what you say, but don't say it mean." - Renee Yohe

"Solitude is the soil in which genious is planted." - M. Norton

"What feels like the widest place in the river when we fail, is always the narrowest place for grace to get to us." - Bob Goff

"The reason listening to somebody’s story is so difficult is because it reminds us life is about more than just ours." - Donald Miller

...So I should get going. I had a nice day, hanging out with some friends. Hearing stray conversations that weave my name into them @ times. We went to Cabela's. I like the outdoors so I enjoy going. Didn't buy anything of real importance. However something happened once I got there that just threw me into a sneezing fit. So I'm not sure what that's about. [however, not a fan. Whatever it is.] Though, in all fairness, I'm not a fan of telling you I don't feel good either. A friend put up some "pins" from pinterest on facebook the other day. They took me back to The Book Thief movie. Mostly because they reference this moment in the film [you might like this movie & be inspired by it if you write at all]
Make the words yours clip
as I looked for this clip to show him... I stumbled onto another clip that
...that I'm not sure I like. Mostly because it has been [& probably still very much is] true of myself. Which harkens back to my post of "understandable... but not ok"
I'm not stealing books clip [What Rudy says @ :50 on]
I'm sorry that I don't share very much. That, many times, it is easier to keep to myself.
You know the old saying:
"old habits die hard." I think I may have said this before, but it bears repeating.
The difficulty of killing a habit, may very well speak of the importance of having done so.
So I battle onward in this...

May His grace drip from your fingers,

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

a random post

All right... I lied. I'm pretty sure I posted here that I just do not know anything about cars. I'm a: put gas in, check oil, check tire pressure... &; I'm done. Yesterday, however, I changed the bulbs in the Jetta's headlights. Mick doesn't have the night vision that I have. We are opposites in this regard. She has the lights on in the daytime, on a sunny day., however, I'll walk through the house at 3am without turning a single light on. So I decided to change to brighter bulbs in the car she mostly drives. Wonderful thought. So I dropped the ring that holds the bulb & it's wire assembly to the lamp housing.... I never mentioned that I have skin issues, did I? Heh... well, I don't have issues, I have a subscription. I tried to get this ring from where it fell. Which took a lot longer than planned. Not to mention it scratched my arm quite a bit. Not in the kitten's claws kind of way. Just a LOT of pink lines in my skin. Also blotches on my hand & wrist. I usually get this in the warmer months, when I trim our bushes out front of the house. or... on my face when I've forgotten to shave for a while. And, as those of you who spend any time with me will attest to, I'm very self conscious. I also just ...until I started blogging it had been quite a while since I really just shared what I think. I don't always like people knowing what I think [it's been used against me]. When I started to have surgeries & my Mom got ill, I finally got on facebook. The whole reason for doing so is so that I could say, "once & done" what was wrong. Because, unfortunately, when I have to tell the same story over & over again... after about the 27th time, I turn it into a stand up comedy routine.
Facebook gave me the chance to say something once & done. So I could tell what happened in an easier format, clearly. Weighing each word for clarity & brevity's sake.
Also I could talk when it worked for me. And, likewise, those who wanted to know could learn what I had to say. Learning when it was convenient for them.
Having said all this. The marks weren't so bad on Monday morning. Now, only I know were the few marks that are left are.
[all this to tell you that I changed the light bulbs in a car. I can be long winded, huh?]
goodnight for now,