Hopelessly Hopeful.

Every once in a while, the expectations we have are not met.  Well, more often than once in a while; it happens on a regular basis.  But we always have those events that are particularly close to our hearts, those event that singularly define moments of our lives (although we might think they define the entirety of our lives in those moments).  And when those expectations – some say “hopes” – are crushed, what becomes of us? We sulk, mourn, and feel depressed, confined to our thoughts and constrained to defeat.  Some feel the waves of sadness to a deeper extent than others, but the sorrow is made universal in all failed expectations.

And yet, how can this be called “hope?” Hope perseveres through trials and tribulations and it is the color palette of our reality.  When our expectations aren’t met, it simply puts a temporary grayscale on our reality.  However, hope takes that and continues to provide light and dark, shining through our sadness and piercing the pessimism that drifts over our glazed eyes.  To be called “hopeless” is truly a desperate situation, for without hope, what then prevents us from our untimely mental suicide? Yet how often is that term thrown around, particularly in the phrase “hopeless romantic?”

But to be hopelessly romantic is not such a bad thing; it simply states that one is so romantic to the point of having no hope in not being romantic.  It merely intensifies the love of romanticism that the phrase is affixed to and, in such a usage, becomes a rather positive force.  Yet in romanticism, there is still fallibility – should one chance to be unfortunate (or fortunate) enough to remain single his whole life, then the romanticism was merely a fanciful figment of the mind.  Even stronger than hopeless romanticism, in my opinion, is to be hopelessly hopeful.

This is the characteristic that believers should have if strengthened enough in faith: hopelessly hopeful.  They have no other hope than to be hopeful because of the many things that are guaranteed them as the fruits of faith.  While sadness may certainly strike at any point during the Christian experience, we ultimately cling to one unshakable hope – the return of Jesus Christ.  This hope should engender within us the desire to be hopelessly hopeful, to have a hope that overcomes and overwhelms every avenue of our life’s experience.  Some say that having this faith in Jesus Christ’s return restricts us from doing many things as Christians, but it is having this transcendent kind of hope that we are set free from the shackles of doubt purveyed by this world.  And it is by this hope, we experience joy and happiness in all circumstances, big and small.  So if we let whatever is plaguing us be placed before God in the hopes that He will make a way, we do ourselves a great good and conform to the pattern of His will.  It’s just a matter of being hopelessly hopeful and living that life in Him.


Take a Stab at It.

The hour late, a great big weight

has a bearing on my heart.

My mind enslaved, a tongue to slake

with empty shows of loving art.

Mind unlocked by lack of sleep

tongue loosed to slowly sweep

the dusty grounds of hidden thought

where darker shapes fester and rot.

I bared my soul for one to see,

Indulging possibility.

It ended well; my heart a kite,

optimism bringing light.

Awaiting a reply.

Twenty and four hours passed

Since that fateful leap of faith.

The feeling, hope, it did not last

and gloom came in just like a wraith.

The words were sent into my ear

assuring me of my small fear;

it was not to be, I would be hurt

I guess it was my just desserts.

While sighing and a weight appeared

A glimpse of glory now it reared.

Pure love to flood within the pain

and wash away the stain like rain.

A stab I took, nevermore to try.

On Waiting.

In a society where “time is of the essence,” waiting is often viewed as a wasteful consumption of the precious moments given to us.  From waiting in line to waiting for our Internet to load the next webpage, each second, minute, hour spent waiting seems like a loss to us.  It is the ultimate manifestation of passive living.  However, waiting is such an incredibly integral part of our Christian life and it is anything but passive.

In our Christian walk, we are constantly waiting for things to happen.  Sometimes, that waiting seems very passive indeed, but what goes on during that waiting is spiritual growth, prayer, and direct communication and understanding of God’s will.  We wait in love and in expectation for our Lord’s return.  We wait for Him to make His will clear in our lives.  We might even wait for Him to create a change in our hearts.  No matter how we wait, however, He is working with so much foresight that we are incapable of comprehending just how active of a wait we are partaking in. The main aspect of waiting that makes it so active is perhaps the love that grows within that waiting.

Love.  As I grow more and more, I realize that it is indeed a choice, and one that leads us to the waiting of our spiritual lives.  If we are willing to love, we are willing to wait.  If what we love is truly ours, it will eventually come back to us even if we let it go.  Love is mutual and so is waiting, for in waiting, just as in love, a response is awaited.  Let us continue to wait on the Lord not out of obligation or any doctrine, but because of love. And He will come to us because He loves us.

Amazing Grace.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

to those it haplessly has found?

Yet this grace the “found” do hold aloft

in faces of unsaved they scoffed.

They shameless sneer at fallen forms

Loving Him yet sinners scorn.

Were they a mirror of His grace

It were a miracle to see His face.

Judgment theirs due to their claims

to conform others to their aims.

Yet aim for God, who reigns above

Not in judgment, but in love.

The fallen, blessed, have condescended

when Christ, who came in flesh, descended.

What amazing grace is this of Christ

His, and His only will suffice.

Time Goes By.

Every second wasted breathing purpose

is an hour wasted feeling nervous;

do I deserve this, a flow of constant thoughts

allowing them to move around as my persona rots,

trots, slots, and tater tots tossed.

Allow me to show you how much I have flossed

with a smile big as the hanging moon above the floating skyline

shining down with lucent beams, almost as bright as I shine.

Black drapes, curtain call not knowing what will befall

an order tall, a man too small, an idea waiting to enthrall.

Hear the beck and call of the wild within the child

Rarely looking angry, yet they dial into the smile.

Mind runs out with the time runs a mile a minute

Making money saving honey is the trick within it.

Mental vomit onto pages sticky green with ill deceit

Green like the money pages inking out a white receipt.

Time goes by as my fingers click clacking sound

“Life goes on” was the message that Tupac had found.

Point of Authority.

“Anyone who conducts an argument by appealing to authority is not using his intelligence; he is just using his memory.”

The above quote, by Leonardo da Vinci, reflects something that was somewhat brought to my attention during the movie The Words.  If there are writers who muck around in the mire of anonymity have good things to say but are restricted by the system of fame in society, how many have previous generations been blind to?  Many times, those of us who are more obscure in the eye of society come upon diamonds of knowledge and insight, and a select few of us choose to write about those diamonds; however, our words are like feathers, holding no weight because we lack prior authority in our speech.  And where does this authority come from?  It comes from cleaving to society’s desired perception of itself and what it wants to see in terms of progressive thought.  There is only so far that people can go in terms of developing new and interesting thoughts before society is either bored, annoyed, or uninterested with what they have to say.

However, in the classroom setting, I often find that what my peers have to say is far more interesting than what philosophers and great thinkers have to say; it may be due to the bias of my position as a student with regards to the material at hand.  However, writers who are my contemporaries, who also have their own musings upon certain topics of great interest to me, delve into things such as romance and conflict in greater depth and with deeper insight.

Thinking more upon this topic, I realize that it could be borne of a personal pride in the force of my own thoughts.  By elevating the work of those around me, I myself elevate my own position.  However, I still believe that seeing the name of a person shouldn’t influence our enjoyment of his thoughts; how enslaved to society do we make ourselves if we only pay heed to the name and not the quality of his content? This is not to discount the accomplishments of those who are recognized by society because there is certainly some merit in what they do in order to gain society’s respect, but it is a way of bringing to light the possibility and existence of great thoughts that are not, perhaps, in the mainstream.  My use of da Vinci’s specific quote was a kind of irony; in that great name, he recognizes that his points shouldn’t be accepted based on his name, but by virtue of reasoning and understanding.

Writing 160, Swiftly.

This quarter, I’m taking a class called Writing 160: The Theory and Practice of Writing Center Consulting.  And frankly, I fell in love with the idea of the class from the moment I signed up for it.  Essentially, the class teaches you how to teach people how to write and this is exactly the class that I needed to take to provide me with a rejuvenated sense of passion for writing.

In our first session of class, we learned about first- and second-order thinking and the benefits of both.  In first-order thinking, it is just your creative juices flowing out onto the page, without inhibition or restraint, with no set formula or structure except the structure of natural chaos.  In second-order thinking, the critique comes in and the writer decides which ideas are worth expanding on, how things should be ordered, and even the specific wording of certain ideas.  Although on my blog, I have mainly done first-order thinking in order to hurl my ideas into internet-space and try and decipher what I truly think about topics, there is still an aspect of second-order thinking that plagues my creative ability.  This isn’t to say that second-order thinking is any less generative than first-order thinking, but that in terms of allowing the box to be thought outside of, it creates a box for decorating, marring any potential for that box to become a sphere or a pyramid.

In that idea alone, I was freshly stimulated with regard to the act of writing.  It opened my mind to the various nuances of writing itself and it allowed me to posit questions from an alternate point of view – the point of view of a teacher.  This allowed me to really ask some interesting questions about writing itself, as if the imagined authority of being a teacher somehow elevated my mindset to one of having extensive knowledge of and insight on the topic, but still remaining humble in order to learn all the small lessons that life provided.  It brought me to the thought that as a writing tutor, I had to first be teachable in order to teach; I shouldn’t have an excessive ego that transplants itself into the mind of my student, and therefore muffling his own unique voice.  It was greatly refreshing to me to finally find a class that I had a great affinity for, and I am looking forward to giving that class my best effort in a quest to become an effective writing tutor, not just a good one.


I rise up, cheerful, smiles to purvey

Greeting friendly faces without a slight delay.

I whistle tunes of joy abounding

Echoes of delight resounding.

Noon soon comes and fun now leaves

Slipping away like treasures and thieves.

Grumbles set in and hot temper flares

 Stress causing whit’ning of fast dwindling hairs.

But soft, the solar sphere wanes low the line

of sight, yet the fury is still smold’ring fine.

Away, I pray; I shall not keep this rage

And so to God I go for help to turn the page

on past bitterness, angst, anger and resentment

that might cause me great sorrow and cloud my discernment.

The sun has gone down, angry I am not

though wary to be righteous when and where I ought.