my attempt at blending the arts I cherish
and sometimes, people wiser and older than you can say what’s in your heart far better than you could hope to. so, you breathe their words and sing their melodies as if they were your own. and your soul sighs in relief of the truth it has just met with. same old desire to cling to the past when coarse change rubs my tender heart, same strong push from Christ urging me not to forget his eternal faithfulness.
“The growth of all living green things wonderfully represents the process of receiving and relinquishing, gaining and losing, living and dying. The seed falls into the ground, dies as the new shoot springs up. There must be a splitting and a breaking in order for a bud to form. The bud “lets go” when the flower forms. The calyx lets go of the flower. The petals must curl up and die in order for the fruit to form. The fruit falls, splits, relinquishes the seed. The seed falls to the ground. . . . There is no ongoing spiritual life without this process of letting go. . .If we hold tightly to anything given to us, unwilling to let it go when the time comes to let it go or unwilling to allow it to be used as the Giver means it to be used, we stunt the growth of the soul.” Elisabeth Elliot, Passion and Purity
“One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one’s mind. Then, it may be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given. . . You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other. . .it is I, I myself, who turn from the good expected to the given good. Out of my own heart I do it.” C.S. Lewis, Perelandra
“Everyone’s trying to find
ways to fix it
You know in your heart what you need
to work it out
Looking away to a violent sky
there’s a deep dark river
rising on the inside
And you stand in the water
with your arms crossed groaning, “hallelujah”
and the trees bow to the east
as the sun waits under the sea
fall into that mystery
or it will pull you under” Matthew Perryman Jones, “Stones From The Riverbed”
what if poems could be symphonies, and people their orchestra?
My semester abroad living in Bath, England and traveling across Europe.
Beautiful photos of hiking and other outdoor adventures.
Art and Design by Kathryn Buncik
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"...that the Lord has made."
my adventurous semester across the big blue