Empty Spaces

The Mall in a small town in British Columbia, Canada

“What shall we use
To fill the empty spaces
Where we used to talk?
How shall I fill
The final places?
How should I complete the wall?”

Oh! I know! How about social media! Yes, we can fill those empty spaces with Facebook. We won’t need to talk anymore. That will complete the wall I build around myself.

I can put writing on my wall, and post pictures of me and my friends and my family and all the fun things we seem to be doing all the time…

But it won’t really be me.

Or how about we don’t do any of that?

How about we find some empty spaces into which we can put ourselves?

How about we go out into the wilderness and fill the space between a handful of trees for a moment, touch their greens and browns, and drink in the sounds of their moving parts as their trunks shield us from the wind?

Or how about we walk in a field and make our silhouette become part of the landscape?

Or how about we walk down the paved sidewalks of town and look up at the sky, however much sky can be seen between the structures of what was once trees but now is wooden framing, what was once rock but is now part of the concrete, and what was once ore underfoot but is now steel? Weave through the structures of flesh and spirit that move past you. Touch them with your eyes and your smile.

(I couldn’t just put “Empty Spaces” on as a link. I needed to include “Young Lust”, for to leave it out would be an OCD faux pas.)

 

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Testing the comments section

Can you please do me a favour and let me know if the comment button even shows up under my blog entries? If you see it, can you please put a comment in? It doesn’t need to be big. A word or two will suffice, to let me know if it’s working. If the comment box is gone, I need to figure out how to fix that.

If you can’t find a comment box, but you know another way to contact me, please do so that way.

I know my writing is bad, but geeze, is it THAT bad that nobody comments at all, not even to complain? 😀

Discouraged or something

“Have I laboured all for nothing.
Trying to make it on my own.
Fear to reach out to the hand
Of one who understands me
Say ‘I’d rather be here all alone.’

It’s all my fault

I sit and wallow in seclusion.
As if I had no hope at all,
I guess truth becomes you
I have seen it all in motion
That pride comes before the fall.”

-From Jennifer Knapp’s “Whole Again”

Those words of a beloved song came to mind as I thought about how good it would be to reach out and be understood.

“Cheer up. Look on the bright side. Here’s what you need to feel better.”

Best intentions aren’t always a solution.

Sometimes a solution is not the answer.

Maybe there is a reason for the feelings. I believe I will know someday, and all these pains won’t even be worth comparing to the joy that is coming.

Until then, though, I ponder.

Why is understanding in such short supply? Or do I just not know where to find it or how to hunt for it?

So much in this life seems so complicated and only results in what feels like futility.

Maybe someone will think about me. Maybe someone will pray for me.

I think I need to go out for a walk.

Maybe I will think about eternity. Maybe I will think about the sunshine breaking through the clouds. Maybe I will think about mud.

Maybe I will think about this song:

(Jennifer Knapp’s “Whole Again” performed live, acoustic version)

 

Discouraged

“Have I laboured all for nothing.
Trying to make it on my own.
Fear to reach out to the hand
Of one who understands me
Say ‘I’d rather be here all alone.’

It’s all my fault

I sit and wallow in seclusion.
As if I had no hope at all,
I guess truth becomes you
I have seen it all in motion
That pride comes before the fall.”

-From Jennifer Knapp’s “Whole Again”

Those words of a beloved song came to mind as I thought about how good it would be to reach out and be understood.

“Cheer up. Look on the bright side. Here’s what you need to feel better.”

Best intentions aren’t always a solution.

Sometimes a solution is not the answer.

Maybe there is a reason for the feelings. I believe I will know someday, and all these pains won’t even be worth comparing to the joy that is coming.

Until then, though, I ponder.

Why is understanding in such short supply? Or do I just not know where to find it or how to hunt for it?

So much in this life seems so complicated and only results in what feels like futility.

Maybe someone will think about me. Maybe someone will pray for me.

I think I need to go out for a walk.

Maybe I will think about eternity. Maybe I will think about the sunshine breaking through the clouds. Maybe I will think about mud.

Maybe I will think about this song:

 

 

Scared Of It All

Robert Service says it well in his poem “I’m Scared Of It All”. For me, it is not so much a true fear, but it is more of a severe preference for avoiding the physical presence of much people while in this body on earth.

I’m scared of it all, God’s truth! so I am; 
It’s too big and brutal for me. 
My nerve’s on the raw and I don’t give a damn 
For all the “hoorah” that I see. 
I’m pinned between subway and overhead train, 
Where automobillies swoop down: 
Oh, I want to go back to the timber again — 
I’m scared of the terrible town. 

I want to go back to my lean, ashen plains; 
My rivers that flash into foam; 
My ultimate valleys where solitude reigns; 
My trail from Fort Churchill to Nome. 
My forests packed full of mysterious gloom, 
My ice-fields agrind and aglare: 
The city is deadfalled with danger and doom — 
I know that I’m safer up there. 

I watch the wan faces that flash in the street; 
All kinds and all classes I see. 
Yet never a one in the million I meet, 
Has the smile of a comrade for me. 
Just jaded and panting like dogs in a pack; 
Just tensed and intent on the goal: 
O God! but I’m lonesome — I wish I was back, 
Up there in the land of the Pole. 

I wish I was back on the Hunger Plateaus, 
And seeking the lost caribou; 
I wish I was up where the Coppermine flows 
To the kick of my little canoe. 
I’d like to be far on some weariful shore, 
In the Land of the Blizzard and Bear; 
Oh, I wish I was snug in the Arctic once more, 
For I know I am safer up there! 

I prowl in the canyons of dismal unrest; 
I cringe — I’m so weak and so small. 
I can’t get my bearings, I’m crushed and oppressed 
With the haste and the waste of it all. 
The slaves and the madman, the lust and the sweat, 
The fear in the faces I see; 
The getting, the spending, the fever, the fret — 
It’s too bleeding cruel for me. 

I feel it’s all wrong, but I can’t tell you why — 
The palace, the hovel next door; 
The insolent towers that sprawl to the sky, 
The crush and the rush and the roar. 
I’m trapped like a fox and I fear for my pelt; 
I cower in the crash and the glare; 
Oh, I want to be back in the avalanche belt, 
For I know that it’s safer up there! 

I’m scared of it all: Oh, afar I can hear 
The voice of my solitudes call! 
We’re nothing but brute with a little veneer, 
And nature is best after all. 
There’s tumult and terror abroad in the street; 
There’s menace and doom in the air; 
I’ve got to get back to my thousand-mile beat; 
The trail where the cougar and silver-tip meet; 
The snows and the camp-fire, with wolves at my feet;
Good-bye, for it’s safer up there. 

To be forming good habits up there; 
To be starving on rabbits up there; 
In your hunger and woe, 
Though it’s sixty below, 
Oh, I know that it’s safer up there!

by Robert William Service

http://m.poemhunter.com/poem/i-m-scared-of-it-all/

Frustration With Facebook

One of the most frustrating things about Facebook is the way so many people on my contact list go to it for a quick read and a quick click of the “like” button, but very few offer any written feedback and there is little to no communication.

When I deactivate my Facebook account, the absence of its accessibility is refreshing. I am then not tempted to click to open it and see if anyone is initiating conversation. I can’t be disappointed if it’s not there for people to ignore.

I am better off writing here in WordPress, where it is already expected, at least for me, that there will be little to no communication.