today

Went to "The Summit" today. My Babe [1 of the 50 some nick names I have given my wife] went with me, which made it so much cooler. We did separate for the afternoon sessions. [Thanks Heather & Jen for sitting with her through those!] It was very good for me. Steve Garber seems like someone I would hang with. Eventually asking what movies he's seen lately & liked as well as who is musically grabbing his attention. I like finding people who allow God to speak to them through very unexpected places. From children's movies, to Marvel movies, to mainstream musicians, to art, to books. I smiled as he played 40 by U2 & later on I had a very strong reaction to him playing The Fray's You Found Me. If I dig, I might find a post on here where I wrote a poem kind of "brought out" by the song. It was sad to hear that some musicians have had bad experiences with the church being opposed to the way they write &/or play. Saying that God can't be in or happy with it. I've had my own bad experiences with people within the church in a similar regard. I even had a rather harsh conversation with a Senior Pastor once. [Not @ LW, not Pastor Steve] I hate to be forceful with people, yet sometimes you kind of have to speak the truth firmly to some people. Then hope that later on they become glad you did. I've had it work that way, it doesn't make it easier to do, though. I'm definitely "not a fan" of it.
Today has made me wonder... is/are my blogs, poems, photography my vocation?
What eternal significance does my writing on here have?
You can answer...yet I really want an answer from Yahweh. Truthfully, is this from/ for him?
Another question to ponder, came from the last session. Steve spoke of Issac [from The Fray] wondering about writing darker songs. Steve questioned us on it, LW's own DeAnn even spoke of people being receptive to our more painful poems. Why is that?
I find it so..."strangely inexplicable" that when we share [in story, song, talk, poetry] our own broken messiness, our scars, our longings, our hurts, our hopes that lie unfulfilled...we find a line from Message in a Bottle to really be true: "a hundred million bottles cast upon the shore. seems I'm not alone at being alone, a hundred million cast aways, looking for a home..."
the painful part of this is our hurts... are often what we have in common. Pain is, can be, common ground. Issac sings something...& suddenly I can feel like "yeah, ...me too. I've felt that way." or he has found a way to say, with the proper expressiveness, what I feel. Or... he says something I long to hear from someone close to me. The oddness is we don't share because we feel that people will see the real me, and decide "oh, ah, no good bye. I don't want to be near you now that I know ____ about you." When it is in this knowledge that we more often go "you get me". [and now I think I've said the same thing twice, I say again...] My other session was very confirming that I am in a vocational/ career change. Now I need to do the steps she mentioned. So as to keep moving forward.
I'm still sorting through a great many things here.
Before I go...my mood is steadily improving. I'm becoming easier to get along with again. My stomach is settling down again. I'm returning to my rhythm, slowly. Breathing is better than ever.
You found me really hits me in it's chorus.
"you found me
lying on the floor"
I've been in moments where I was just lying on the floor, or ground. Unable, sometimes unwilling to move. Hoping not to be found. I've had a few people who have done some really self absorbed & cruel things to me. Others, whom I've told a few details to, say they want to hurt the ones who were cruel to me.
being cruel to someone, doesn't erase the cruelty that they've done, to someone else.
today, as I think of this, I was reminded of a few lines from a King's X tune, called Charlie Sheen [which I don't think has anything to do with the actor]
"...and you can have your reasons
for the bloody war
but I don't wanna hate you
for what your not sorry for..."
sorry this is all over the place, and without a closing poem...