A word, a word, a word. With no pictures to display what is pride.

Too many times have I sat at this screen ready to express the abundance of gratitude, joy, emotion and a million other nouns that overwhelm, that sweep over my heart like a dust cloud over the desert. Too many times do I begin a word, and find myself frozen in that moment, incapable of expressing this and that and these. The school year hasn't ended, and it isn't coming to an end, but my hands feel the need to write, and my mind the need to debrief. Yet, again I find myself incapable of expressing anything. How can I? Words are great, words are beautiful, but words cannot express the mind and words cannot explain the heart. I long for space, I long for family, I long for time, I long for inspiration. I hear "Age of Adz" by Sufjan Stevens. An interesting piece. Confusing, chaotic, and messy - I can't help but wonder if it reflects the soul of the artist. It seems as if Sufjan has opened up his mind for the world to see inside: a disarray of colors, sounds, shapes, and objects. And isn't this the mind of us all? Cluttered with the tension of misunderstanding and a desire to understand. A mess of thoughts and feelings that cannot be described in any other way than disorder. Yet here is the climax, the contradiction if you will: there is harmony. In the state of unrest there is harmony; there is melody; there is structure; there is balance; there is peace; there is concord. I could type a series of sentences, I could type a series of words, I could type a series of letters. Because I am in a state of mind. My mind is in a state. I don't know, but you can. I can describe to you, I can look at you, and there is understanding between us. Because we are made of colors, objects, shapes and sounds. Bodies that house confusion, and order. So here is the mind. Here it is, at Your feet. My understanding is limited, but my growth is infinite. So here I am. Here I am, at Your feet.

Tess, and longing for that book club

this along with Tess of the D'Urbervilles.
waiting for summer and days to read...

A Good Thing

A great song covered by a great artist

A place, a place

A trundle bed, a dog.

A window, a pillow.

A home, a family.

A place, a place.

With every new place I find that my desire to learn is camouflaged by a desire to morph - to change, to mold into who people are instead of who I have yet to be. From where do these things come? Where do they find their roots? And will they ever be choked out by an overwhelming contentedness?

In Indiana, there is space. Standing on a small hill, I can look out over the vast expansion of crops at rest in the winter and think. But bitter wind and cold air has prevented me from doing so thus far, and so I will have to wait to think. I will have to absorb and experience until I can think, but then thinking will be great and my heart and mind will be at a better place to grow and hear.