Beauty in the Bleak: Heroes & Villains


Not all you see

Before your eyes

Matches what’s hidden

Beneath a guise.

For all the tales

Of villainy,

What it is

Isn’t what you see.

A wicked heart,

An evil fate,

A life that seems

Consumed by hate—

I think you just

Fell for the bait—

Of seeing only

Surface things . . .

Fascination with


And with rings.

A miracle,

A spark of light—

May yet conceal

A bit of spite.

You haven’t seen

What’s truly light.

For light illumines

All before—

Revealing treasures,

Revealing more.

You might not hear it

Knocking at your door—

In guise of simple

Woman poor.

(A ‘helpless victim,’

That’s for sure.)

But what is hidden

In her guise?

Is there spark

Within her eyes?

Far from flicker—

Endless light.

Eternal circle

Of innocence right.

She stares to deep

Within your soul;

She seeks your


Not control.

She longs to call

Your beauty forth—

To point a way

Unto due north.

But will you

Be fooled by

The lies?

Fail to see

Through her


For treasure

Worth it

You shall seek . . .

Beauty hidden

Beneath the bleak.

Nothing in Particular


Do you ever feel the urge to write, but have no idea what on earth you are going to write about? Well, it has been a little bit since I did a blog, and so I decided to start typing and see what happens. I am reminded of a time in high school when one of our teachers explained a bit about a style of writing known as “stream of consciousness.” Basically, in “stream of consciousness,” you write your thoughts as they occur—all randomosity included.

There is something beautiful about doing this. I feel a deep sense of peace. A consciousness of being. A consciousness of repeatedly using the word “consciousness.” A giggle at this seeming overuse. How deeply amusing life is . . .

I am watching a slideshow right now in my family room. Little moments—little glimpses into existence, experience. Growth, yet the same essence. I watch the progression of years. Growth, yet the same essence.

I wonder what Walt Whitman is doing right now?

I wonder if he’s ever met Walt Disney?

I wonder if they’ve ever done a waltz before?

Walt is a fun name. I like the sound of that name. Walt. So funny. So fun. I like “Walt.” It’s a happy name. I feel like dancing thinking about the sound of this name. It’s musical. I want to tap-dance. Walt. Walt—Walt—Walt—Walt—Walt!!! Hahahaha. So fun.

I’d like to give them both hugs. They’re my family, you know. Part of my big human family.

I like humans. They’re funny. They give me giggles. Oh, humans!



I really miss those pants.

Such fun I had dancing in those pants. They just would go *swish* *swish*  and swirl and twirl around me when I moved.

Such happy pants. 

Anyways, I am alive. I am alive, and that is awesome. My sheer existence is a miracle. I am irreplaceable. Did you know that you are irreplaceable, too? I know; I know. You may or may not hear that at your job. You might have that one relative who spouts criticism 24/7, it seems. But you are! You are irreplaceable!

You are one of a kind. You are full of glory. You could literally just sit there on your butt all day, and you would be breathtakingly amazing. (Not that I recommend that; you could get stiff after a while.) You are a treasure. You are a gem.

It is time that we tossed shame to the door. We do not need it. It is not humility. It is like an evil version of Pac-Man who wants to eat you alive and put out your fire. For those of you who need the reminder: God does not see you as a worthless piece of crap sinner who He looks forward to “teaching a lesson” or tossing into a hot, fiery pit of lava to scary little creatures with pitchforks. You are precious in the sight of God. God is not ashamed of you. In fact, God is delighted with you. Yes, go ahead. Get over your crappy self-perception!




(If you have not read The Choosing by Rachelle Dekker, I would highly recommend it. Stories, I find, have a way of communicating things to the heart in a way that your best sermon, newspaper article or inspiring speech do not even come close to. This book is no exception. And . . . its themes tie in with the topic of this particular blog post.)


Let us talk about value.

So, I was in my early teens when I heard Clay Aiken sing a song called Measure of a Man. It was nice listen. I would tune in simply because it sounded beautiful. But it is also one of those songs that gets you to thinking. You hear people say, “Well, you can tell what this guy is worth by _________ .” They could fill in this blank with actions, character attributes, social status, appearance,  economic status . . . and even how high one up one is on the FBI’s most wanted list.

Depending on who you talk to, you are going to run into different opinions.

If you are raised up in some degree of religiosity, you might even run into another fun little qualifier: your ability to please God. Now, certain people clue in a little quicker than their fellows to the reality that on your best day jumping through hoops and keeping commandments, this is futile. You cannot make God like you. God is either going to like you, or God is not going to like you. That depends entirely on the nature and character of the Deity you are worshipping.

And at some point, people may realize that the same applies to the rest of humanity. You cannot make someone like you. They are either going to like you, or they are not going to like you.

Who do you believe you are? Who do you believe your fellow humans to be? Who do you believe God to be? Your POV (point of view) is going to greatly influence how you interact with the world around you.

For instance, if your POV is that God is head-over-heels in love with you and the rest of humanity, it is probably going translate into how you treat people (including yourself). If you believe that there is goodness and worth inside of every human being, it is going to translate into how you treat people. You may give a few more hugs and words of encouragement. You may have more patience  with everybody (including yourself)—especially when tripping and falling over one’s own two feet occurs. You may be quicker to forgive everyone.

But if your POV is that God hates you and that you and your fellow human beings are worthless pieces of crap . . . I will let you use your imagination here. 

Finally, if your POV consists of measuring your fellow human beings based on some sort of standard you learned as a kid or made up in your head, and you measure yourself by this same standard, you are going to run into challenges. These are naturally complicated by believing that God who thinks the same way about everybody as you do. It turns into a rollercoaster of emotions.

He loves me. He loves me not. She loves me. She loves me not. 

We wonder why people have self-esteem issues. Mental breakdowns. Do crazy stuff. Maybe it has a little to do with this???


A Goat at the Masquerade


I would like to invite you all now to join me at a very peculiar party. All the other guests in attendance are wearing masks. You get the sense that such a thing is expected at this party. You feel the pressure to fit it in—to stand out. And yet . . . to not stand out at the same time. The desire to feel normally unique just like everyone else.

There are all manner of masks, and many have gathered about into groups—according to color, according to theme, according to size, etc.  You sense a rivalry between these groups. You notice how rarely they exchange dance partners with each other.

Other. Because there are others here. They fail to notice that all alike wear masks. All alike play false rolls in the silence of the shadows.

*Cue creepy music*

They are staring at you like you are naked. You do not have on a mask. Different groups quickly offer you one of their own in an attempt to “save your dignity.”

As if your bare face were something to be ashamed of. 

They call it a “covering.”

It is at that point that something rather curious happens.

A goat. 

*Cue party music with balloons*

With a loud, bleating “baaaaahh!,” the goat runs into the room with a pack of little goat friends, knocking people over. Masks fall off, and people freak—scrambling for their beloved face-covers.

It is at this point that you recognize a couple of your old friends—people quite dear to your heart. They are scattered across separate groups. You know that these people belong together. They are not meant to be as they are.

Everyone is suddenly united in one cause: catching the goat & company—and getting them under control. They must not be allowed to run about like that. It is too dangerous, too disruptive.

You decide you rather like the goat. It is a bit annoying and obnoxious to the ones who want to maintain the order and status quo, but it is cute and fuzzy and helping you see people as they truly are. It also nuzzles you affectionately and looks adoringly at your bare face.

And amidst all the “chaos,” people are starting to see each other’s again . . . despite their best efforts.

*Cue overly dramatic music*

To be continued . . .

“With” God or “For” God?


It might not seem like that big of a difference. Two words: “with” or “for.”

But they have made a world of difference to me.

It’s love-based relationship and communion vs. fear-based enslavement or servitude. If I do something “with” God, through God, in God—then God is here. God is participating. Present. If I do something “for” God, who knows where God is? Maybe a ways off watching. I’m alone. I’m alone and trying to impress God like the stereotypical woman who will do anything to get a man’s attention so that he will “love her.”

I know which one sounds like more fun.

We were talking. Yes, God and I talk. Some people call it prayer.

We were conversing on this very subject. I was feeling a bit depressed because I had this paradigm—that in many ways I am still learning to let go of—that says that I still somehow have to earn God’s approval. Who knows how many times I have had that crap thrown at me. Well, God was reminding me that’s a bunch of bull. Well, actually, below bull. There’s not exactly a proper swear word in the human dictionary to express how disgusting that idea is.

Do you think that I make crap? You (humanity) worship  Me. You (humanity) sing songs to Me, proclaiming how great I am. How wonderful I am. How perfect I am. You (humanity) then proceed to proclaim yourselves worthless little sinners unworthy of My love and grace. 

Dear ones, you’ve loss it. You’ve completely gone bonkers. I say that with the utmost affection. But your brain is as good as on crack when you believe this type of stuff about yourselves. I made you. I do not make bull-crap. (Well, unless you are literally talking about the stuff that comes out of a bull’s rear end—which is actually natural, not evil. Y’all just don’t a grid for a proper insult for the lies your have been fed.) I love you. You are precious. You can’t make Me love you any more or any less. Stop speaking smack about yourselves, and quit attributing that opinion to Me, as well.

That was the gist of what I heard. One little blurb in an endless, glorious stream of conversation.

So, “with God” or “for God”? Which God are you talking about? Can a good God be loving and hateful at the same time? Talk abusively and affectionately simultaneously to creation? Can God be omnipresent yet distant? (I am familiar with the concept of transcendence, but I don’t think that’s what it’s getting at.)

“With God” or “for God”? When you are really, truly in love, you do as an expression of that. You don’t have to be told “you must serve”—“you must obey.” All of your heart is consumed with lavishing affection on your beloved—your beloved who is present, not distant.

When such things are demanded, often the result is either rebellion or crushed spirit. Neither is God’s heart for humanity.



Hello, Again!


It’s been a while since I last wrote on here. I thought I would pop in again and say “hello”!

Life has continued to be one wacky learning adventure. My paradigm has been shifted once more—and I suspect that’s going to be something that keeps happening.

I wanted to talk about the joys I have discovered in learning today. You see, if you start off knowing everything (in the know-it-all-sense), it’s a bit of a bummer. What’s there to discover? What’s there to find? You can tout your knowledge, go about feeling all superior to the ignorant masses, and wind up miserable and lonely with no real, genuine relationships. But at least you’re better than everyone else? Right? Am I right?

What happens when you fail? You find out that you’re not as smart as you thought? (At least according to one of the many arbitrarily-made human standards out there!) Boom. There goes your value as a human being, you worthless little ignoramus.

I know what it is like to experience the pressure to perform like a circus-monkey. To please people. To “have it all together.” “Make a good impression.” To appeal and appease. To avoid making any single wrong move that someone could call you out on and thereby degrade your value as a person.

That’s all pure hell.

I’m going to know what I know when I know it. I may not always be “right.” I may not always be “correct.” I may even make typos. Misspell stuff because my brain feels sleepy. I may royally fall on my face a couple of times. But I am alive. I am learning. I exist. It’s a wonder; that’s what it is!

All this to say, you jolly people, you have permission to BE! Learn! Love! Have epic adventures, precious ones! And don’t be afraid of making mistakes.