sit down and write, do homework, read, work out...
and i just got called into work.
this is my life, right now. three jobs.
(from shore)
17.2.12
26.1.12
...new heaven, new earth
Previously, I had difficulty believing in heaven.
Now I do.
Simple reasoning: glimmers remain of the original glory of creation, and the brokenness of this world leaves me yearning to see the eternal restoration of all things. Even faint hope can turn to faith.
Now I do.
Simple reasoning: glimmers remain of the original glory of creation, and the brokenness of this world leaves me yearning to see the eternal restoration of all things. Even faint hope can turn to faith.
18.1.12
long-ending Layla...
I've not always been a girl who likes surprises, but there is one type of surprise I particularly enjoy: being surprised by beauty. Washes over you, silences your throat, harnesses your gaze, plants your feet--the surprise of beauty, indiscriminate and equal-opportunity.
Last fall I was caught in the middle of the mundane. The quotidian rhythm that seldom allows inspiration, revival, or even a depth-filled sigh. I inched my car into its space, following an early morning of class that was likely preceded by a late night of studying. Then it fell: surprise.
Having been listening to Derek & the Dominos' "Layla," I was hushed by the instrumental ending. I had never heard it before: perhaps the hustle of American life requires radio edits, or what is worse, perhaps my own lifestyle reflects a "failure to yield."
As the warm light enveloped my cheeks, I surrendered to stationary-living long enough to invite the music to dispel its magic. With tears fumbling carelessly to the surface, Layla soothed my heartbeat with an effortless tune. She dances a whirl of grace and ease. She embraces time without stressing the where, or even when, she closes her spin.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Th3ycKQV_4k
Last fall I was caught in the middle of the mundane. The quotidian rhythm that seldom allows inspiration, revival, or even a depth-filled sigh. I inched my car into its space, following an early morning of class that was likely preceded by a late night of studying. Then it fell: surprise.
Having been listening to Derek & the Dominos' "Layla," I was hushed by the instrumental ending. I had never heard it before: perhaps the hustle of American life requires radio edits, or what is worse, perhaps my own lifestyle reflects a "failure to yield."
As the warm light enveloped my cheeks, I surrendered to stationary-living long enough to invite the music to dispel its magic. With tears fumbling carelessly to the surface, Layla soothed my heartbeat with an effortless tune. She dances a whirl of grace and ease. She embraces time without stressing the where, or even when, she closes her spin.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Th3ycKQV_4k
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