Friday, May 23, 2008


I am antsy* today.

Given an unlimited supply of time and money, I think I would take a really long drive somewhere, and take a journal along and try to write stuff. Or maybe go somewhere pretty and quiet with lots of trees and take a long long walk. And then a nap.

This is certainly the strangest season of my life so far. I feel like everything is topsy-turvying, but for the first time that's exciting instead of scary.

And I am more convinced now that ever of the goodness of my Heavenly Father, and His plan and provision through things good and bad. At the same time, I am incredibly humbled by this season where I have been granted the opportunity to enjoy an overwhelming portion of good. May I remember this in the stormy days.
* American Heritage Dictionary attributes this word "perhaps to the incessant motion of ants." Maybe that won't be funny to anybody else, but it hit me as pretty funny.


Anonymous said...

i spent the morning at the park with semmi-lusia. it was so quiet and beautiful and i couldn't help praising Him for His beauty and goodness. i kind of wish i'd had a journal to write down some of the praises that came to mind, though i'm sure little hands would have wanted to "color" with it anyway. it's funny though your comment about this time being exciting instead of scary. i'm just now sort of thinking that way about my own near future. it's good to knowGgoodness and look for goodness and to be excited for things unseen and unknown.

Daniel Jackson said...

I'm trying to imagine an MLE version of Kerouac's On The Road.
Full of obscure poetic forms, re-imagined psalms, exegetical innovations, and reflections on the everyday minutia of desire and providence.
I'd buy it.

mle said...

Hmmmmm. Sounds like fun. Would I have to read Kerouac, though?

Daniel Jackson said...

The great thing about contemporary poetry/"modern art"/the 1960s in general is that it's very platonic: the important thing isn't that you read Kerouac's actual obscenity-laced 120-foot scroll of tracing paper and random bits of scrap, it's that you think the idea of writing about travel on a 120-foot scoll and restaurant napkins is in some way interesting. (Or that you recognize it as a valid "cultural artefact," or something.) ^_^
In any case, comparisons between your writing and that of Jack Kerouac are strictly illustrative and coincidental, and not intended to represent personal opinion, valorization, defamation, anthropomorphization, or any NIED.