If Missing Please Reply

I found a broken heart in my pants pocket.
Hidden, it was, inside an old abandoned locket.
I pried it open, intrigued to see what was inside.
What secrets could an old locket hide?

When I saw the heart it was barely beating.
I picked it up gently,
it was badly bleeding.

It was cold to the touch
like a chilled spoon for scooping.
It beat barely, as such,
and before I knew it
I was stooping.

The absence in my chest was confusing.
Who took this from me?
And why was it in a locket for musing?

Or had it ever been inside me?
Was it an extra?
Was it a mistake?
Was it even mine?

I was raised by the television,
no wonder I can't initiate a conversation.
There is something missing
and the reason I can't find it
is because I never knew
what it was like to have it there.

So where do I plug this in?
Is there a socket
somewhere within?
Will it still work right
in this body of sin?

Can it be made fresh
in this body of flesh?

Somehow Still Living

Life is a lesson.  A lesson made up of several lessons within.
Life poses questions.  Like who were we before we began?

Sometimes it's a state of frustration though we know there is much to be joyful about.  Sometimes I'm stuck in place so I guess it's true that "forward motion is harder than it sounds."  Sometimes I feel so desperate to get moving and do something meaningful but it the first step is almost always the hardest.

Dear Anxiety,
     You don't control me.  You're not my lord, not my master.  You cannot and you do not rule my life. You're not the one I'm living for.  I just thought you should know.

Living with a heartbeat can be challenging.  We have to move but aren't told where to go.  I just want someone to tell me where to go.  Tell me what to do.  Is this codependence?  Am I wasting my life?  Can anyone out there even hear me?  Do I sound like more than just a frustrated complainer to anyone?  Is there anything to this other than whining?  How can I change what is unchangeable unless You change me?

When I remember that this is the time of my life where life happens I sometimes feel the nails pounded into my skull.  What am I living for?  Who would want to share this life?  On my best days lately I'm just talking with others.  Spending time with others.  Life doesn't feel like anything special though I'm sure it is..somehow.  It's difficult to believe that I'm in Texas.  Or maybe that I have to be here for another three years.  It makes me feel tied down though I know that as soon as I'm about to leave I'll long for these days.  Why does that always happen?  Why can't I train my brain to think that way now? Why can't I enjoy today today, not tomorrow?

If you're playing operation will you remove these thorns from my heart and my head?  But please make sure that they're still attached to each other.

Dear Son

Dear Son,

I grew up in a world where the people who wanted to go against the norm were the honest ones.  It was a place where politicians said what the people wanted to hear and (if we were lucky) apologized for not meeting expectations later.  There were also many musicians who got sucked into this as well.  Some though, were different.  Some true artists spoke what was on their mind and how they really felt no matter what people would say about them.

It was a world full of darkness and brokenness.  The fact that the nonconformists were the speakers of the truth was a sad one.  Lawyers found clever ways to choose their (clients') words so as to not indemnify themselves.  Public figures spoke in clever tongues that the populous could relate to.  Words were chosen so carefully that to hear someone speak honestly was often viewed as offensive.

Living in a world that values eloquence over authenticity is not an easy task.  I constantly find myself worrying about what people will think of me.  What will they say of me if they hear me speak my mind?  What is running through their mind as they read my written words?  It's really a constant task to try and find the balance of what to share, not to share, and with whom to (not) share with.  There's an old adage that says, "sharing is caring," but too often this world that I've grown up in has tried to teach me that this does not apply to emotions or true feelings.

One of my good friend's mothers growing up taught me something that she said she learned while she was studying to be a psychologist.  She said an important goal of a psychologist is to "make the covert overt."  That means openly displaying how you're feeling and why you're feeling that way.  When we're children it seems like that is all we know how to do.  Somewhere along the journey toward adulthood many of us lose that ability, or rather it becomes tremendously tamed.

I sincerely hope that you do not lose this ability.  Don't buy into the belief that to be a man you must hide your true feelings.  It's okay to not understand everything, but if you don't ask questions or let others know that you're confused you will not learn.  Change can be hard but staying the same stunts your growth.  I hope you will come to me with questions that you have.  When you don't know where to go, have the humility to admit it.  Don't let pride ruin you.  No one is above hurt.  We all experience it, much deeper than we may care to admit.

Be honest.  Be true.  Be real.  Be authentic.  Love without abandon, but love sincerely.

Sincerely,
    Your dad before you knew me

A Daydream at the (Self-)Reflection Pool

Life.

I can sense it's getting harder.  And I can sense it's getting easier too.

What happened to everyone being so sincere?  Where are our motives?  Why do we do what we do?  Does anyone understand anymore?  Life isn't football.  Life isn't making others laugh.  Life isn't making money.  Life is loving because He first loved.  How can so many not see that?

I get passed by.  Daily.  And as I do
I watch the others as they get passed by.
And I watch passers.  So immersed
in their lives.  Is that me
at times?  Do I walk by
as others live?

As my eyes wander to
those around I wonder:
where
would You be here?
Are You here?
Would You be
cleaning up
after us or
would you even be here?

If I can
disappear in a crowd of
"love,"
how much easier
it must be
in the world,
right?

But at least
there is
sincerity
out there.

Could that be
my mission?
My call?
Is that
what You want
from me?

Not to be
an island floating,
a dream waiting
to be awoken,
but a loving
alarm clock?

How
do I start?
Where
do I go first?
What words
do You have
for me?

I can
't worry.
You'll be here.

If
You want me to (too)
I'll be Your Moses.
With Aaron's mouth
and Your words,
I'll be Your Moses.

Lead me
and guide me.
Hold my hand
don't leave me.

I'm on my way,
please show me (Your Way).

Move me
out of my way
and show me.

I'm on my way,
please show me (Your Way).

Not Abandoned

"And you shall be called 'Not Abandoned.'"

Lately there've been couple of phrases that have run through my mind and while some of them seem to come from a dark enemy with bitter intent, I try to remember the good ones instead.  One that I have been hearing often is, "He says He still loves you."  That one has been so important for me to remember because I often feel like I've used up all of my chances and there will be no love, let alone grace or mercy for me.  The truth is though, that that is not possible.

The God I serve is more than a god of second chances.  The God I follow, the God I love, He is the God of sideways eights.  He will love me the same no matter my life circumstances.  There is life in this life.

So today another phrase entered my mind from what may seem like an outside source:

"And you shall be called, 'Not Abandoned.'

"Though you run far from your home and often find yourself lost in between vital moments, I will never abandon you.  I will show you that even now is a time to be found.  Even now is a time that I am working.  Do not fear for I am here.  Hear me, for I am."

So this stage in my life is not an in-between one though it so often feels as such.  I will keep moving and will be me today, not long for the me of tomorrow, nor overly reminisce on the me of yesterday.  Though I will move when it is time I will also be sure to make time to stop, listen, and be still because life isn't always movement.

This life isn't mine.  Empty me of me and fill me up with You.
Amen.

Armed Greek Soldiers and the Shell of a Horse

I'd try to keep it simple but this life isn't that.  It's a whirlwind of emotion and the words only come when I'm too tired to write them.  Though it also seems I'm often too tired to sleep and too lazy leap from dreams to reality.  Who will save me?

And my life is a movie.  Texas?  Living alone?  Graduate school?
Where did all of this come from?

I'm watching myself from the outside and it's quite pitiful at times.  Where is the joy in living here?  Is this it?  Is there something more?

And what about these numbers that fill my mind?  What are they doing here?  Where are they coming from?  What do they mean?  I'm often without words but my mind fills with numbers.  Or rather, the same numbers come up time and again.  What is the point?  Where is all of this leading?  How will I be able to serve those around me if I can sense the fracturing in myself?

It was a good week this week though.  I really had a good time until I got stuck walking back and forth in dreams this weekend.  I've felt useless.  I've felt like a polka-dotted zebra.  I know what depression feels like.  And yet, is this even depression?  Is depression just a symptom and not the real issue?  The same with social anxiety.  Could that be it?

Still, there's another image that's been in my mind lately.  Another image of what this depression (or whatever it is) looks like.  What it feels like from within.  That's just it.  It's so difficult to describe the feelings of depression.  First of all, it feels so different to different people, but here's the thing I've noticed: so often we think that depression is a gun pointed at the head when it's really not.  Instead, depression is the mind molding itself into that gun's form and pointing it right back.  It's not a weapon from the outside, but rather one from the inside.  It's a traitor in the mind.  A Trojan horse that we want out but it's fleeing all exits.  It has isolated itself on the dark and deserted island and claims it cannot swim.  It won't accept our help, though it expects us to know how to get it back to safety.

If you want to save us from this Trojan horse you'll have to help us find the source.  You can't expect the war to end if all you do is destroy the soldiers' shell.  Good, you've identified the way the enemy entered.  You've eliminated his means of transport, but now you have a century of men running in all directions.  How will you fight them?  How will you treat the mind that is fracturing itself further?  The medicine won't work.

It's so tempting to say that it's coming from the outside but at the same time it doesn't seem possible.  There is nothing that stays the same except the one who feels it.  And it is more than a feeling.  It comes and goes, but even then, there are still stains on the ceiling.  Who will save us?

If the tragedy of Troy was as visible as Pompeii, would there be more attention to this issue?

If you're going to destroy the horse, you can't just let the soldiers roam free!

Wake me up before I fall asleep

At the rate I'm going, this much more than a "Quarter-life crisis."  I barely move, and when I do it's rolling over.  Still, I'm not quite as obedient as a dog.  I say that mistakes are the best way to learn but lately I've been learning more than I want to in that sense.  The smallest molehills are hardest to climb.

Could it be that because I've had so much given to me that I don't know how to start on my own?  Or am I just afraid of growing up too fast so I either stay in one spot or look to the past and for something that's still here?  And when I'm not too busy dwelling in the past or future, I can barely live here.  If I'm not doing something, my head swells and I need a distraction.

Sometimes I claim that I have nothing to do, though I'm just looking for a distraction from a second distraction.  I like reading but sometimes it just feels like a waste of time.  I want to get to know people. I want to be where people are.  I want to invest in someone's life.  Reading helps me do that...
but
    it
     puts
          me
             to
               sleep...

The walls don't talk to me anymore.  The mosquitoes each my flesh and my brain cells don't mesh well.  What happened?  I know that I have a lot of potential but it's hard to keep going when everyone either says no or is speechless.

Does anyone have longer lasting tape?  My mouth is fine, I don't need it for that.  (Well, maybe you'll think differently.)  I've got working ears but there seems to be little use for them lately.  Keeping me balanced isn't even that important.  The pain in my neck keep me locked in one of a few adjustable poses.  Though I've moved down with the rain, I've gotten a few bloody noses.

That's not important though.  What can anyone do?  Written word.  My soul exposes.
I go from poetry to all sorts of proses.  Or the other way around.
Not seeing the problem that it poses.

Wake me up before I fall asleep again.  Will my life begin again?