Book Selection

(My apologies this is very short and a bit random, and has rant-ish tinges to it, but I've just finished exams, and I felt the need to write something without really thinking what I wrote.)

I have two rules in regards to books that I want to read or buy. If the book is worthy of being read it will:

1. Not have the author's picture on the cover. I never trust books that have the author's picture on the cover... somehow, no matter how great that person is, I always feel like they are trying to sell me their image rather than their thoughts. I'm paying for your words, not a picture of your shiny orthodontically perfected teeth!
2. Not have the author's name written in larger letters than the book title is. Unless you're Charles Dickens or Jane Austen and your books have been so popular for a 100 years or so, and you've earned the right to have your name big, keep your name small. Again, I'm interested in the topic of the book or its story, not who it's written by. Just cause you're a great 'brand name' (ahem... Tom Clancy, Nora Roberts etc.) doesn't make every book you write interesting or good.

Now I shall get back off my soap box and let the rest of you resume whatever more interesting things you were doing before.

As It Comes...

I woke up this morning feeling inexplicable joyful.

It may have had something to do with the fact that I had 10 hours sleep, that I dreamed of old friends, that last night I finally was granted the courage to start a new journal. But whatever it is, I'm taking it as it comes and revelling in it.

I've had some pretty 'down' moments over the last few months. But in the midst of one of them, I was reading John 16 and I came across this verse:

22 So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will
rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

It's definitely a promise that I'm going to be holding onto. I know that the way life is means we will face both sadness and joy and I will take them both in turn. But I will continue to look to the day when all my sadness is gone and I will have a joy that cannot be taken away.

Habit-forming

"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got til it's
gone..." (Big Yellow Taxi)

I've realised over the past couple of days what a creature of habit I am. But a bit of background first... A few days ago, I had my backpack stolen. In it, I had all the things a young woman who is a student normally carries around - purse, phone, USB stick, keys, diary - as well as my journal for reflecting on the time I spend with God and my Bible. Not to mention all my "little necessities" - lipstick, favourite pen, encouragement note from my bestie...

And it struck me today - not having all those things - how much I rely on "my things" to get through my day. I'm trying to study at the moment, and it was disconcerting - even distracting - trying to use borrowed pens. I let my lips bleed with the cold rather than put on a lip gloss that is not the one I like. But worst of all, I sit down to do my quiet time, with another Bible and without my journal, and my mind wanders and frets, because it's no longer my routine. And I wonder, when did I come to this?

I have a skill to re-learn, the art of just spending time with God. Not saying anything, not figuring anything out, but just being with God, dwelling in His presence. Letting Him be the balm to the cracks in my soul. Listening to what He wants to tell me.

It's going to be a worthwhile lesson.

Simplicity

I wish my life was much simpler than it is.

I wish I could amuse myself for a whole day without having to go on Facebook or YouTube or even Blogger.
I wish I wasn't contactable 24 hours a day on a little phone that fits within my palm, yet I feel naked without.
I wish I would read books instead of webpages, curling up in an armchair or my bed instead of a swivel chair.
I wish I would spend more time playing my own music instead of blasting it into my ears out of a little stick with a weird yet catchy name.
I wish I didn't use a headset and a webcam to talk to my best friends, whether they live on the other side of the city, or the other side of the world.

I wish my life was unwired, un-networked, uncomplicated.

Free.

In my backyard

When I think of hatred and violence, I tend to think of something far away... you know, it's in that country or in that part of the city... The people near me are good people, right? On Friday morning, I was witness to a very confronting incident on the bus really challenge my underlying attitude of "not in my backyard". I was catching the bus on the way to uni, when a youngish man boarded with a radio blaring from his backpack [This is actually illegal on public transport here; music is supposed to audible only to the person listening to it - i.e. used with headphones]. One of the other passengers requested that he turn it down, and was met with a barrage of insults, swearing and threats of violence, even after the bus driver's warning, that I was scared for the safety of the man who complained and for the other passengers around. It was such a small thing, and it unleashed such a lot of hate. Being me, I wrote a poem about it...

Bus is quiet
People silent
New passenger disturbs our rest
Loud music blares
Everyone stares
Til someone decides to protest
He swears and shouts
About to strike out
Bus driver issues a warning
Hearing death threats
What will come next?
Will there be blood spilt this morning?
I want to hide
Crying inside
Wishing it were all just a jest
There's so much hate
Love seems too late
For this morning bus ride in the West.

A Poetic Turn

This started off as something entirely different... it was originally a poem of thanks to a friend, but somehow became something else entirely. I'm not sure about a couple of the lines... but I needed to 'publish' it or I will keep using up time when I should be doing assignments tweaking it.


"Of Grace"

Out of the darkness you heard my cries
Fought a path through the forest of lies
Called me beloved and opened my eyes
To grace

You whispered of a Way and a Light
To lead my heart from its starless night
Having tasted it, my soul will fight
For grace

Unashamedly my soul now sings
For God has given this fledgling wings
My spirit soars free as each dawn brings
His grace

KJGH, May 2009

Chasing Sunsets

I catch the train home from uni most nights - around a 30-35 minute ride - in the late afternoon, which at the moment (as we're approaching winter here in the Southern Hemisphere) is around the time the sun is setting, and my train travels directly west, following the disappearing sun.

I was sitting on the train a couple of days ago, when I happened to look up from my book and realize that out the window behind me was an incredibly amazing sunset -an incredible red-orange sun illuminating pink clouds and sending off those visible beams of sparkly golden light. It was beautiful and the sight of it lifted away all the clouds of emotional worry that had been ruling my day up until then.

I turned back from the window to see if anyone else in the carriage had caught the same taste of glorious joy from the image of it that I had, but no. They all still had their heads buried in books, magazines, the newspaper, the PSP, the iPod. And I really thought at that moment... this is what our society is. We're so busy chasing after happiness from anywhere that promises it, that we miss the simple moments of true joy, in merely being a witness to God's magnificent creation.