Flights of Faith

Saturday, December 29, 2007

The Beat of a Heart

My heartbeat matters.

I have been saying that a lot recently. There is a promise in my breath and in the lub-dub rhythm that is either temporarily grasped at in the excitement of my being or heard in the monotony of my waiting. Honestly, my awareness has largely come from the silence of the latter. If any time was designated to be the quiet before the storm, then senior year would be a likely candidate. I could not dive headfirst into anything for the sake of post-college clarity. However, I am now pretty settled on my plans and left twiddling my thumbs for another semester. When will this adventure begin and what can come to fruition before that happens?

But my heartbeat matters.

It's not just that my organic beat is driven by a hope of fulfilling these plans. Instead, I know each day, each hour, each second is filled with moments that can either make me stronger or defeat parts of my dream. Or I can stall in that unlearned vat of procrastination and separation from the grappling I have come to know will be center to my future life. I guess my conviction comes from the communal beat I do not hear. The cacophony of sound that I always hear. The missed alignments. The shoulda woulda couldas that seem to define life for all of us. I live in imagined spaces.

I somehow hear the potential symphony. It exists as a dream, yet I know I have to be awake to realize it. Actualization is the one power we possess. The importance of a presence, of an actor, of someone willing to stand up and make something happen. I believe in change. Both positive and negative. I believe in a different reality. The stagnation that haunts my days is the one I rail against, rally against, and really struggle with not succumbing to every single day. It must be possible to harness the stuff of my flight-obsessed unconscious.

I guess I should clarify. I believe in inspired and informed action. I never want to act as routine or behave mechanically in order to ascribe to an artificial test of reality. I desire not simply movement, but meaning. And meaning takes time. It takes reflection. It takes all of the things I am so frustrated with because I have had them. We have had them. We could have been better. The past defeated us again.

But we are not dead and there is still time. And the past is too expansive to betray all of our visions and goals. There is a smallness in our remembrance. In fact, voices cry out from pages giving us advice and telling us the Truth. "Do this in remembrance of me." I hear you. I remember. I follow. The past is the present and the key to the future. Let us take our plans for reflection and go to the ground organizing, strategizing, and mobilizing while feeling the pulse of the floor. We will know when we have to get up. And then let's do it. Be there for the willing and hope for the rest.

We do not need signs. We have a destiny. And we have a promise in the sound of our rise and fall. Salvation remains and it is ours to take and to spread. We only have to quiet our lives, listen, accept our Responsibilities, and respond.

Godspeed everyone.

Picture of the Week

Presidential Campaignin' 2: Electric Boogaloo

If this picture is taken a year from now at some post-election event, I would be so happy. A president...groovin'. They make me excited. In less than a week, I will probably be caucusing for him. I cannot believe this is even a possibility. Wow. He is not without imperfections to say the least, but I have a good feeling about him and can say for sure that he is better than the rest. Let's do this.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Write, write, write.

Finals period is such a lonely time. Sort of isolated in Old Campus without a full suite like frosh year, I think it might be the loneliest when it gets to hardcore writing time. 40+ more pages, not including edits. 5 days.

Goal: Paper #1 ends Sunday. Paper #2 stabilizes Monday through aggressive edits. Paper #3 starts Tuesday. Paper #2 ends Wednesday. Paper #3 ends Thursday. Maybe? We'll see.

I hate constructing freedom academically, yet I can't deny the longing and the eventual celebration.
Need to prioritize.
Break as reflection, must come.

O Lord, be gracious to us; we wait for you.
Be our arm every morning,
our salvation in the time of trouble.

- Isaiah 33:2

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Six Word Stories

One of friends started a facebook thread featuring six word stories. It was inspired by this Emerson gem: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Here are some of my own.

I envision the first six as some sort of series.

Cosby, as father. Cosby, as dictator.

The Diaspora: You Do Not Belong

Turned inward, we will never know.

DuBois: If I could be them...

Lost hyphenated americans found in dash.

Hegemony, applause that sounds like silence.

And the rest...

Guitar in hand, I am ready.

Christ died for us to Live.

Commas provide such interesting twists, right?

Drained of power, he returned Home.

Bowing out, he returns to papers.

That one was truth, see you.
If you have some, send them!
Must stop this madness. Ok, good. (!!!)

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Welcome to the Advent Season

"When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepards are back with their flocks,
Then the work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost, to heal the broken,
To feed the hungry, to release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations, to bring among brothers,
To make music in the heart."

Howard Thuman's 1968 Christmas Poem

Beautiful. God, please help me as I write a paper about this man and his time and his legacy laid in Your name. Let it be a Light.