Imitation of Yellow

Imitation of Scott Cairn's "Yellow"

She walks as window shopper up and down

the well-paved sidewalk worn by well-paid

shoes. Bright eyes sparkling behind the painted faces that

pass her by creased by worry, wrinkled with joy

no uniform reaction. Unique souls in

conforming bodies. She walks on brushing

shoulder with well-worked shoulder muscle flexed

strained by shopping bag’s heavy weight – a golden calf.

She walks, simply walks, enjoying the act

of being alive. Observing, looking,

breathing in and looking high above this  life,

this place of corruptible joys and goals and

battles. Lazy beams of sun and gentle breeze

contrast with the frantic hurried pace of

shoppers. She smiles. It is going to be

okay. And on she walks between furrowed brows.

motivation&writing

Often times, I feel absolutely no motivation. Some days it's all I can do to drag my lazy self out of bed and just get on with the day. Even once I'm up and about it's still a struggle. 
...But this how I know I'm supposed to write: even when I don't want to get up and deal with the whole " existence thing" I still have the desire on my heart, push, and love of writing. For somebody like me -- who feels numb a majority of the time -- having any such motivation is a huge gift. So how ungrateful is it of me that when I am given a bit of feeling and motivation I still neglect it. I think "Oh, I won't write anything good enough... I don't wanna rework my short story... or poems...or blog...meh"
He has put the desire on my heart to write. It's that simple. And all of the thoughts of not being good enough are clearly wrong. Why would He call me so strongly to something unless I could somehow do it? Hmmm.
It reminds me of some Beartooth lyrics "Give in you know it's your purpose even if you know you'll never deserve it." Yup. Perfect. My pre-med roommate and I talk about this all of the time -- there is so much work involved in living up to our calls. She often wishes she had an easier one, but she knows this is God's plan for her and so nothing else in this world will satisfy her heart so. As for me, I often think "There's no way that He could want me to do X,Y, and Z... no way." But then why has He put the desire with in me? I could never deserve to write beautiful things, but if He will do it through me, let it be done according to Your will.

Personally,

Personally,

Probably the most irritating thing

Is the inability to laugh.

The weights on either end of lips

Disabling smiles

When all the world gives cause for joy

And peace for awhile.

In those moments of crisp air sipped

Through nose as eyes take in 

Untainted beauty

Mind and bones are racked and shook

For appropriate response

Not found.

When soul admits not what the mind declares

Smothered in thickest fog

But oblivious bird

Chirps cheer ‘cross the sky

And the sunflower screams in brilliant yellow

“Have joy, damn it!” 

Humility

 This is a poem of hope. I wrote it one night as I sat before a nativity scene and was struck by my insane amount of pride. I begged to be simple, I begged to have my pride ripped apart so I could be free. And this is what I wrote:

Castle of straw so proudly built,

Work of rotting hand.

Fort of mortals, sheath of bones,

Built upon the sand.

Bar by bar, each hopefully snatched,

Blindly seen as gold,

Now revealed as cruelest steel

By choice was each one mold.

Numb I sit in self-made cage

Lost in easy pain.

Still I write my hope and life,

Blood scrawled across the page:

Rip me to shreds, I beg, I plead

Scourge this frozen corpse

Tear my heart and make me bleed

Shake me by Your force.

Make me small, a sliver of me

So I may freely slip

‘Twixt these bars that cage me here

Into Your loving grip.

solitude&prayer

"The whole value of solitude depends on one's self; it may be a sanctuary or a prison, a haven of repose or a place of punishment, a heaven or a hell, as we ourselves make it."

- John Lubbock -

 "Prayer reveals to the soul the vanity of earthly goods and pleasures. It fills them with light, strength and consolation; and gives them a foretaste of the calm bliss of our heavenly home."

- St. Rose of Viterbo -

I wandered around campus today and found a nice little spot behind the softball field overlooking the highway and the river. I sat down with back and head resting against the metal fence and let my music and the scenery flood my senses. As I pulled out my iPod to switch songs, I saw that it was 3:00. I pulled out my ear buds, put my iPod away, unwrapped my rosary from around my wrist and prayed a divine mercy chaplet. Solitude and prayer, peace and rest. What a perfect escape.

mini retreat

"JK I'll be there in half an hour"
Great. I was already to the JC (our student center) and didn't want to walk back to my dorm across campus just to immediately turn around and come back so I took a left and went to over the Port area. I was planning on going to my usual spot in front of the nativity scene but for some reason I decided to walk a little farther to the stations of the cross. Following the signs with the arrow pointing down the hill "First Station" I walked down the well-worn wooden steps built into the side of the hill. 

I walked. The warm autumn air picked up leaves to dance before me, around me, behind me -- I was walking away from the place of academic buildings and dorms and in to a place of retreat encircled by leaves of brilliant red and yellow. The fallen leaves left space between the trees for the outside world of roads and zooming cars to break through. It did not detract from the serenity of the place but provided comforting contrast -- a place of simplicity and beauty versus the hectic world of industry. I was in a safe place.

Reaching the first station I stopped and took in the image of our Lord being condemned to death.  I was struck again by the individual-ness and personality of it all. It is so easy for me to think "He died for us" but "He died for me"? Me, Liz Knab, the individual? Me? Really? Dang. 
I spend so much time thinking of how to lead others to Good. How to help them reach Him, what arguments could be made, and how to truly, truly love and care for others. I spend so much time worrying about the problem of conversion and praying for others' conversion that I begin to neglect my own relationship with Him. Staring at the image of Him I thought, "I want You for me." and it took me a second to tell myself that it was okay to think that, that I'm not being selfish. Yes, conversion is brilliant and must be done, but how could I ever do it effectively if I don't know Who I'm leading them to? 
I continued to walk the stations, winding my way back up the hill, and sat down in front of the image of Jesus comforting the women (how fitting, I thought) 

I just sat, soaked up the beauty of it all and relaxed.  It was a place of stillness and I was so incredibly grateful. 

humility.

Why do I so often shun hate a lovely expression of my God because it is shown through another person? Lord, please teach me to be humble.

Tonight, a girl from down my hall was in my room singing a song she just wrote. It was gorgeous. She is gorgeous. But my first reaction was to shut it out because of silly ol' envy. Sitting against my door with arms draped across my knees, I watched her and checked myself. I took a breath and actually listened to the words she sung and let myself appreciate the beauty of it all. Her words moved me to prayer and a realization about something I had been struggling with.
Pride does nothing to further our talents, gifts, or lives -- it only keeps us from enjoying the beauty of the variety of expressions of our amazing God. So just sit back, relax, and enjoy the goodness.