Well, Helen came back from her appointment last week back with an ugly B-. I was mad and bummed and now that I'm a little calmer, I'm going to go talk to Dr. Mask. I think chatting together about her progress will encourage Helen. We shall see.
It's depressing for me to know that I'm underacheiving, especially when I have just begun to get back on top of my schedule (finally!). I am once again trying to pour myself out for others while allowing others to pour into me, as well - a neat phenomenon that hasn't happened for quite a while. I also thought I was beginning to manage my time commitments and examine my priorities well. BLAM! In comes a mediocre grade when I could have gone further. Poop.
But hey. I am not about to prostitute my learning for grades. I've learned a double heaping handful this semester. Life has been, as always, abundant. Here's my promise to all you bloglanders: I'm in it for the long haul. Can I get a witness?
Does anyone else feel clearheaded and more normal when there's fog about? It makes one feel glamorous, a privileged spot of solid color in all this mess of white. I'm going to go make tea.
so while she wonders why, I will walk down that road
because the road exists beneath the walking
and the walking comes when the wind blows from the west
that's when I finally get a relief from always smelling
the scent of the way things used to be
and get a whiff of how they might one day be,
the age-old promise of the shining west
the longing that every man feels to follow the sun
past horizon and into fulfillment
because I’m tired of walking alone
and smelling like the east end of morning.
(Needless to say, I'm still wondering what it all means. Any suggestions? Helen is going in tonight for some official review, and she's nervous. Maybe that's it...)
To whom it may concern:
It has recently come to the attention of the editor that not all readers have had the pleasure of making Helen's acquaintance. Helen is, of course, my SIP. That is, a large group of words have come together this semester to talk about a certain subject. 7,000 decided to stick around for the long haul and call themselves "Helen." She's a darling girl with an engaging personality, but she's getting larger every day...
This growth is a good thing.
If all goes well, Helen expects to offer a model for microfinance work in the diaconate by late January. She even hopes to represent the greater part of my Covenant College training to future employers. Helen enjoys peer review and outside advice as much as the next girl, but right now her focus is on gaining weight without ruining her girlish figure. Speaking on her behalf, I think it would be safe to say that she eagerly anticipates meeting most of you at some later date.
Feel free to look her up and encourage her efforts during the next few weeks.
Hoping to leave you more informed than I found you, I am
Very truly yours,
Editor Bob
...I'm back in the saddle.
Here are three haiku I wrote last year but read only last night to a writing group on campus. For the last year, I have been trying to understand haiku, and these were part of that process. Thoughts?
Love, Bob.
"exile"
Every moment swells
Red but withered like dry fruits
Leaves cannot hide them
:caught:
Rain drips from my branch
Harsh winds and frost glaze new growth
Fresh buds in limbo
- insomnia -
Cold walls are too thin
A silent child on the stairs
Waits for the shouting
The self-assured but insecure are loud as always, the quiet confident ones continue to avoid conversation, and the people who seem to have everything together cry behind closed doors. I reckon ther's nothing new under the sun, after all!
Still, I have seen the boisterous and blind move towards hurting people this week with astonishing sensitivity. I've listened with doubt-torn prophets as the whirlwind and the fire pass them by. Others have chosen to unveil scars both healed and unhealed. Wow.
I see the Holy Spirit's movement, blowing folks from here to kingdom-come. How wild is it that God would choose people like those with whom I've spent my week as His own? He's doing a grand job of being God, far beyond all I can think or imagine.
Coming attraction: poems and such that I may donate to the Thorn. Possibly bits and pieces from SIP-land. I covet the feedback. Shalom, kids.