not much

i was sitting on my back porch tonight, well after the sun went down. the sky was deep purple. the dark greyish sort that is still definitely purple. the night sky is a strange, illusive thing. normally blackish-blue or navy. but sometimes there is another hue, like purple or a strange teal. but it's just a hint. you have to be sitting there looking at it to see.

whenever i sit outside by myself - especially at night - it's like i'm in a moment connected to a succession of previous moments like that one, where i'm sitting on a back porch or front porch, not looking at anything particularly beautiful and yet there's that bit of sky there and the way the neighbour's light is glinting off the silver wind chimes in my yard. and i'm not one for talking on the phone, but there are a few friends with whom i can chat and it's those whom i call at times like this and even when i can't reach them, it's like they're sitting there with me and the conversations we've had before are hanging from the branches of the trees.

it's not much. but it's nice.

yet

it's funny because patience isn't necessarily easy for me, but i am intrigued by "not yet". it's one of my favourite things about traveling -- saving something for next time. four years ago when i was last in ireland, i finally made it to the connemara region north of galway. i'd written a story in college set there, but hadn't yet seen it for myself. the day i went was overcast and as the region is all hills, i missed out on part of its glory, yet...that meant there was more for another time. this time, i'll have a few days to check out the area, so hopefully i'll catch a clearer glimpse.



the other day i had a thought, which seemed like a perfect quote. so i figured it already was one and i was just remembering it. i googled it and found nothing. which at least means it's not a very famous quote if it is already a quote. i know the concept has been noted before, but perhaps not this phrasing...

the story isn't over until the end.

yes - it can be taken rather trite, but isn't that because it's true?

imagination

driving home the other night, thinking about words, i realized that people often use the word 'imagination' to degrade, cheapen or void what someone has said, thought or dreamed.

"you only imagined that."
"it was just your imagination."
"and how do you imagine that's ever going to happen?"

imagination is infused with hope and faith, none of which can be fully seen, explained or understood. it is not easy to hold this mysterious gift loosely; it can be confusing and lonely. but without it, i wonder if we kill off one of the central parts of our identities as God's children -- that of creators.



as a lovely British man i met once said, "dreams? God loves dreams. He's so good with them." He's certainly much better than i am. He breathes life into dreams, lets them grow into bigger things than i would ever trust, doesn't hedge them in mercilessly, or make them dependent on a list of ten steps.

from phantastes by george macdonald:

"do you not know me? but you hurt me, and that, i suppose makes it easy for a man to forget. you broke my globe. yet i thank you. perhaps i owe you many thanks for breaking it. i took the pieces, all black, and wet with crying over them, to the fairy queen. there was no music and no light in them now. but she took them from me, and laid them aside, and made me go to sleep... when i woke in the morning, i went to her, hoping to have my globe again, whole and sound, but she sent me away without it, and i have not seen it since. nor do i care for it now. i have something so much better i do not need the globe to play to me, for i can sing. i could not sing at all before. now i go about everywhere through fairy land, singing till my heart is like to break, just like my globe, for very joy at my own songs. and wherever i go, my songs do good, and deliver people..."

she went like a radiance through the dark wood, which was henceforth bright to me, from simply knowing that such a creature was in it. she was bearing the sun to the unsunned spots. the light and the music of her broken globe were now in her heart and her brain.

words

words are important to me. each one has its own meaning. this can be altered by context or nuance; by tone or additional body language, if spoken. but people seem to have forgotten that words have meaning. they toss them about, misuse them, overuse them, until they become meaningless. or trite.

the other day i was about to remark that something was wonderful when i simply meant it was good. to be wonderful, a person or thing should be full of wonder. or full of something that incites wonder. if we only used 'wonderful' to describe such people or things, i kind of feel the world would be a better place. this is a tiny example, an almost ridiculous one. yet to me there is something sad about words not really meaning anything any more.

if people actually did what they said they would do, they wouldn't have to swear or promise or prove. they'd just do it.

i choose my words & try to mean what i say but sometimes it seems pointless because if people discard or cheapen meanings are they hearing any of what i intended? nevertheless, i am going to try and reclaim 'wonderful'.

emotional onomatopoeia

petřín gardens (prague)

prepare yourself to comment...

as onomatopoeia refers to words that "imitate the sounds associated with the objects or actions they refer to", i think there are words that somehow imitate the emotion or the meaning of what they're referring to.

alas - every time i say this word, it is exactly what i feel/mean.
wisp - the sound is the image
lovely - the word embodies what it's describing
daisy - it is that cheery simple flower

these are the ones that first come to my mind. i know i've had other moments with words like this. i'd love to hear some of yours...

comfortable silence

petřín gardens (prague)

if you can sit in silence with a person for half an hour and yet be entirely comfortable,
you and that person can be friends. if you cannot, friends you'll never be and you need
not waste time in trying.
- lm montgomery (the blue castle)

i'm rereading several of lucy maude montgomery's books (most famous for "anne of green gables") - and am currently in the middle of one of my favourites, "the blue castle". right before the above quote, two of the main characters are just getting to know each other and run out of gas on an abandoned road. the guy says, "we'll just sit here, and if we think of anything worthwhile saying we'll say it. otherwise, not."

i think heaven will be like that. full of lovely silences that speak their own depth and joy. and only words that are aptly spoken.

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missing lloyd chudley

i was just checking some film info on imdb.com tonight and came across a new film coming out based on a philip pullman book (the golden compass). well, he's the author of a victorian mystery trilogy that i'd hoped to write screenplays for one day, but i was beaten to the punch this last year when the bbc put out a tv movie of the first book, ruby in the smoke. tonight, this made a connection in my mind to lloyd alexander another young adult author i love, whose books i hope to write screenplays for one day. to my dismay i saw a beginning and ending date by his name. no, there are no movies in the works (according to imdb) but this was no longer on my mind.

lloyd chudley alexander died on may 17th. just a few weeks ago. a few months back, i'd gotten an address for him from his publisher. i'd wanted to write him and tell him how much i loved his books and check on the possibility of obtaining rights to write a screenplay. i know the latter part can be done through others; i know that authors probably get loads of letters - but i felt saddened to think, that i had a small window of time to get a letter to him, and my brief delay had cancelled that possibility. how can you not love an author who describes one of his main characters like this:

as for theo, he loved virtue, despised injustice, and was always slightly hungry. apart from that, he was reasonably happy.

i named my first cat after theo when i was ten years old. hopefully one day i'll be able to dedicate a film to lloyd chudley.

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light

i love that God often uses light to describe Himself. there is so much beauty in real, living light. the sun. wow. after weeks and months of winter to be walking around in a jacket in the SUN. amazing. crazy work schedule and car in the shop AGAIN can be shoved in their proper place in the presence of such bright and glorious warmth. the mysterious glow of the moon and stars.

fire. that dancing, living flame. i was at church today for noon prayer and i was happily contemplating the candles, when the most brilliant idea came to me. wouldn't it be wonderful if we could hold flame in our hands. that jolly little swaying flame, resting right above our palms. how glorious it must have been for shadrach, meshach & abednego, walking around with Jesus in a furnace of fire. and how wonderful that the Holy Spirit came to the disciples at pentecost as flames above their heads. gives me reason to hope that maybe in heaven, i can hold it in my hand.

-may the LORD be with you during this lenten season-


a little light

sometimes so small – a mere pin prick –
and you feel no warmth, unless you
could sit in the flame, fit in the flicker

the glow holds you – no matter where you
look in the darkness – the glow holds you

how can so small a light
conquer so vast a darkness

yet DARK is beaten when
even the tiniest bit
of nothing becomes the tiniest
bit of something

a little
light goes a long
way

post script

so - with my altered angle and specific focus, i have noted two positive changes with my new steering column:

1) i feel like neo drives smoother

2) the heat on my feet works WAY BETTER (now, i have no idea why this would be the case - but i swear it's more & it's hotter; which is a blessing in this frigid cold weather)

angle-n-focus

whew. a positive attitude is a beautiful thing but it's finally hitting me how difficult it can be to maintain in the midst of "the way the world works". i got back some photos the other day and the one above struck me. its simplicity. softness. i remember using my zoom lens and i think i audibly sighed when this came into view. just a bare branch against a softly fading sky. i wish i could view the world like this sometimes (without looking through a camera).


i got my steering column fixed today after driving with a screw driver for nearly two months. thought i'd feel more of a sense of completion. but now the key kinda sticks. and when the driver door is open it dings like the key's still in the ignition - even though it's not. and so the screwdriver almost seems preferable to the key.

i'm trying to reform my thoughts the same way that i look for photos - with unique angles and specific focus. hey, it's worth a shot. :)

snowy musings

i miss my old relationship with snow. that tingle of excitement when i first saw the flakes or heard someone call out "it's snowing!" no other type of weather in my experience, brings about that same childlike exclamation. you don't run to the window and shout "it's sunny" or "it's raining" in quite the same way.

there's more a sense of awe or magic to snow, somehow. perhaps it's the delicacy, the bright whiteness, the fact that it makes something beautiful of the painful cold. but i never recall being upset about snow as a child. it meant any number of good things: no school, building snowmen, snowforts, snowball fights, bundling up and simply crunching through the snow, snow angels, sledding, snow ice cream (did anyone else do this??). okay, i thought of one thing that might've disgruntled me - shoveling the sidewalk & driveway. but that's just one thing. and that often ended up including a snowball fight - so not all bad.


now, snow makes me think of: scraping my car windows, super slow driving, car accidents, nasty grey slush, wet jean legs. last year when i moved to LA - i was so excited that i'd never have to scrape my windows again. (alas)




i still can't help but appreciate: the colour of the sky and the deep silence of a snowy night, snow falling, the crunch of snow underfoot, how my cheeks sting when i enter a warm room after walking in the cold, the moment before there are any footprints in the snow, ice-encased nature.

i just wish my initial reaction was still excitement and wonder.

(maybe if i had a chauffer?)

hope

i've always loved crocus. growing up, the corner of our lawn bordered by the house and driveway was the crocus spot. every year i would expectantly await the first signs of life in that little patch. the blooms themselves don't stand out against more popular flowers, but there was something inherent to them - seeing them blooming out of snow, before the grass turned green, when all else seemed dead.

i think the colour yellow is somewhat similar to the crocus. nice in itself, but set against colours like red - it seems common or insignificant.



i watched "the last kiss" with donna this weekend. i wouldn't recommend it, but there was one line tom wilkinson's character said, that i really appreciated: you can't fail, if you never give up.

i think it's easy to see this "never giving up" as something extravagant. last january, i moved to los angeles to pursue my dream of working in the film industry. now i'm back in kansas city and don't know what i'm preparing for. that may appear to be giving up - but i think there's something to the crocus, lying in wait under the ground, holding out through the winter, knowing it will be ready when it's time to bloom.

faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen.
without wavering, let us hold tightly to the hope we say we have. for,
God can be trusted to keep His promise. hope that is seen is no hope
at all. wait for the LORD, be strong and take heart, and wait for the LORD.

[heb 11:1; heb 10:23; rom 8:24; psa 27:14]

such an end

so i tried to hold out against the sunset tonight as i drove home.

i kept telling myself, sunsets are always beautiful and you can't photograph every one. it's annoying to stop on the side of the highway. as soon as you stop it's only going to fade. any minute it's going to fade.

but the sunset did not go away. it kept getting better and better. and there really never would be one quite like this. so i thought, i'll take a quick shot whilst driving. i kind of have a knack for it after my two long drives to california & back. but even that wasn't enough.

so i ended up stopping on the side of the road for a few brief digital shots.





and decided that in the near future, i'm going to have to take my good camera and drive out to the kansas countryside and set-up for the evening to capture an entire sunset.

hidden treasure

a few weeks ago i stopped by the irish store, just blocks from my house. i came across a wall hanging with a quote on friendship by george eliot, i'd never read before. i looked it up on the internet and discovered it's actually by dinah craik, from her novel, a life for a life.

i was intrigued. miraculously got it through interlibrary loan (brilliant!) and had two weeks in which to read all 400ish pages.

to begin with: the book i received was the "new" edition, published in the 1860s. (the original was published in 1859) so i have this hundred year old book, beautifully printed.

then, the preface alone amazed me. the author confesses in her first edition she changed her story slightly because she feared the public would never bear it;--would never endure that a man-slayer should be represented as a hero, invested with all moral virtues, and finally be loved. however, in her second edition, she declares she is not afraid now. and so attempts to portray in her novel what the most sinful man's life could be made to be--through the one Christianity which was sent alike to both the righteous and the wicked.



and the novel only fulfilled my hopes. this is an astounding book. beautiful, simple, intelligent. full of honesty and hope, love and hardship. emily brontë describes dreams how i'd describe good books - that they have stayed with me ever after; and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind. craik's novel is among these. i will forever be thankful for the nudge that lead me to delve into the origins of this quote.

oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one’s deepest as well as one’s most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort—-the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person—-having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

you can read the novel online, here. but, if you ever see an old version for sale that looks like this and it's not too ridiculously priced - let me know!! i'd love to own this old beautiful copy.

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same temperature

i realized something today when i walked out into the cool autumn morning, dressed in jeans and long sleeve shirt and wrapped in my chunky brown sweater. this is the exact same temperature i run out into wearing shorts and tshirts in the spring, exclaiming about how warm it is. bizarre.

do a generous story.

i love this shirt. i think it is the BEST shirt ever created. i wish there was a more fantastic word to express how much i LOVE this shirt.

even better, just below this cursive bit - it repeats the sentiment (word for word) in small "typewritten" paragraph form.

i bought this in thailand a few years ago. the thais love english, but don't necessarily understand its grammar or spelling. that's what makes this oddly phrased bit of loveliness so wonderful. there's good meaning hidden within these jumbled words.

sadly (for me) this "one size fits all" t, didn't fit me. but that allowed me to share it with one of my favourite people, who can actually wear it and share it with the rest of the world. so thanks, hannah. :)

mi familia

i called my sister (in-law) the day i arrived in california. apparently the two previous nights my nephews had read the two books i wrote for them, one about my first trip to ireland and one about my dreams to move to california. after reading the second one, william turned to my sister and said, "maybe aunt beth will do that someday." my sister smiled and said, "she's doing it right now." "that's cool," he responded.

my family is a keeper. we're all quite different and have literally gone different directions, but there's still genuine connection among us. i love that even though they don't always understand what i'm doing or why i'm doing it, they trust me and believe in me and care. plus, we can always make each other laugh.

a few fun memories...
* listening to my dad sing jim croce songs
* listening to my mom read books aloud
* poking & tickling wars with chad
* making ben laugh
* cooking with sarah
* anything with will & jon :)

write it on your doorframes

i have to say it. cheezy or not. i have been overwhelmed by my friends. i always think i have the best friends ever - that i could run them in a contest against other people's friends and come out way ahead. but leaving my home, i was shown on a larger scale how true that is. the dinners, parties, cards, hugs, prayers, looks, smiles, words. all of these meshed into the moment when a few friends prayed for me after church my last sunday. the weight of their hands on my shoulders is something i shall never forget. someone said, it is your friends who make your world. now my world has to stretch to include california - but i think with my friends, that can be a reality. and i'm still hoping a few will literally join me out here.

as some of you know, i got my irish tattoo (above) to "remember" what the LORD has done for me, as moses tells the israelites to do in deuteronomy. what i love is that the LORD doesn't just do one or two things that i have to hold onto for the rest of my life, waiting for some future day when i can finally be blessed again. He's continually adding blessing to blessing. my friends are now a part of that story. kansas city is added. jacob's well. kerry & i's bible study. my time at devry. and there's more yet to come here in la.

one more thing - i was reading in my utmost for His highest on sunday and loved it. oswald references isaiah 45:22 - look unto Me, and be saved. he says, "the great spiritual difficulty is to concentrate on God, and it is his blessings that make it difficult. troubles nearly always make us look to God; His blessings are apt to make us look elsewhere...look unto Me and--not you will be saved, but you are saved. the very thing we look for, we shall find if we will concentrate on Him. we get preoccupied and sulky with God, while all the time He is saying, look up and be saved. the difficulties and trials--the casting about in our minds as to what we shall do this summer, or tomorrow, all vanish when we look to God. rouse yourself up and look to God. build your hope on Him. no matter if there are a hundred and one things that press, resolutely exclude them all and look to Him. look unto Me, and salvation is, the moment you look."

cheers, oswald.

gratis

tim preached on gratitude today. after finishing "the hiding place" on friday, i have a better understanding of what that really means. and how important it is in all things - big or small, hard or easy.

like walking home from church, crunching through leaves. my heart was buoyant. was it the sound of crunching leaves? no, a bit too crackly -- not the warm, rich crackle of a fire, just crackly. then, i caught a whiff of fragrance as i crunched through them. that smell. i love that smell. i thank God for thinking to let the old fallen brown leaves, which no longer look beautiful and now seem a mere annoyance to most adults, to have such an inviting fragrance.

i've never understood how some people can be unmoved by nature. its beauties and mysteries - so wide and deep.

leaves

what is it about autumn leaves? every fall i am amazed at the colours. today i was walking past several trees whose leaves were strewn about the grass. i kept stopping to pick up different leaves that caught my eye. i'd look each one over and then let it fall again. i wished i could look at every leaf; they all deserved to be seen individually. i continue to think about how i can save them. a couple years ago i laminated a few, hoping they'd retain their colour, but they still faded. they truly are around for just a season. you can't create them in a hot house. and that'd miss the point, anyway -- it's the large scale, the random placement, the surprise blast of colour around a corner, a whole block lined with multi-coloured trees, lawns strewn with multi-coloured leaves, clouds of multi-coloured trees covering a cityscape. perhaps it's the momentary nature that makes it so wonderful.