On Light in the Darkness

The moon stood stately amidst a court of clouds--a cold queen--her silver purity so unattainable that all the fragile humans looking up must fall before we reach her. But when she surveys the land with such a keen glance, with such a grace, I know that there is love in her heart. Love for all of us stumbling around and staring with our mouths agape. And she will take us into her smooth embrace and raises us to her sphere among the stars.

On Some Recent, Disparate Thoughts

The sky is so beautifully impossibly big.

As I look to the future, what if the one prospect that scares me is the one I am supposed to pursue?

What is a line?

I think it took leaving my home and finding a home thousands of miles away to make me understand that I have no real home.

Is my identity defined by my beard? If not, then why don't people recognize me now that it is shaved? Am I not me anymore?

There is a person who is me sitting on the tip of my tongue waiting to be uttered into existence.

What if balance is everything?

I want to go to Tehran someday.

Is there a difference between dissatisfaction and discontent?

Autumn is beautiful, and the beauty of Autumn is the beauty of death, and truth is beauty, and all truth is God's truth, so what does that make death?

I have never felt more like a stranger in a foreign land than I do at this point in my life.

On Flash Fiction: A Follow-Up

Hey guys, you can totally check out my new website for short stories here.

On Iliads

I have been fortunate this semester to be in a class that forces me to write poetry. The professor who teaches my course in world literature likes making students apply and reflect on their knowledge of a text in multiple ways, including creative means. It was for this course that I wrote the prologue/poem I posted earlier, and now we had the opportunity to write another, writing in the voice of a minor character in Margaret Atwood's Penelopiad. I was, for the most part, pleased with the results of my efforts, so I have decided to post it here.

Kleos

All the tales they tell are told of men:
men who win wars, rape women,
sack cities, and take wives. For this
the people write poems, sing songs--
and for this their sons are raised. But what
of their daughters? What of we, their women?
We are our bodies, and if we are lucky,
we are wedded, though even marriage
carries with it a doom: making us mothers.
We are fated to be nothing more
than some man's bride, and some man's mother--

But not I. My name shall be my own,
and I shall be known as slayer of men,
destoroyer of cities, worthy of war. I am
Helen. I too shall be godlike. I shall be
Aphrodite and more. I am woman--
the beauty of woman is mine, and I shall be all
beauty. The beauty that men sell their souls
to love is mine. The beauty that women
kill themselves because they lack is mine.
They shall call me slut and whore and worse
because women may not be heroes--still,
they will remember me.

On More Reflection

I'm not entirely sure where this post is going, but I felt like my previous post needed some kind of follow up, so here it is.

Last week, I was talking with a friend who mentioned how I am good at a lot of things. I tried to downplay it and change the subject, which led to a discussion on why I struggle taking compliments. I didn't really know. I always have. This led to some reflection, which led to my last post.

When I was in elementary and junior high, I was one of the smartest kids in my class. Eventually, I gained the nickname, "Genius" and came to be sort of set apart from my classmates. Granted, there are worse nicknames out there. Many people have told me that. But pejorative name-calling is pejorative no matter what the monicker. And furthermore, feeling like you don't fit in with your peers is difficult for any adolescent, no matter what the cause for the isolation. I was the nerdy kid. I was too smart. Even when I changed schools freshman year, I got labelled a smart kid. Is this why I avoid praise? So that I feel like I don't stand out? So I will fit in with everyone else?

Another thing that has always bothered me, is that I have never felt worthy of the praise I get. This has been especially true of any time I was called a genius. I am not a genius. That is just a matter of fact. If people called me stupid, that would be mean, but at least I would be fairly confident in knowing it wasn't true. But this is where I begin to wonder if I have self-esteem issues. I don't feel like I deserve a lot of the praise I get. This is most often the case in the areas about which I care the most or about which I am the most passionate. A lot of the time, I just attribute this to an artistic temperament of always noticing the flaws in my work and being my own worse critic. Sometimes, however, I think it is more than that.

I call it humility. Is it self-depracation? One thing I have learned well in the last few years is that I am much too hard on myself. I weigh myself down with guilt, I agonize over how my decisions affect others, and I so often look for flaws in myself that I can eradicate. Even now, as I examine my self-esteem, I am viewing it as yet another flaw to eradicate.

Sometimes, and I think now is one of those times, I forget the promises of God. I forget that whether my surface attributes and accomplishments are praised or put down or worthy of any of it, what matters is that I am created in the image of God.

He delights in me.

A dear friend of mine told me that once, and the Spirit of truth overwhelmed me so much in that moment that I wept--and I am not prone to tears. How could I forget that?

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful. I know that full well.



As a bonus to this post, here is a link to a song that has very much been on my heart lately. And a special thanks to the friends responsible for introducing me to it.

On Some Reflection

Sometimes I think I might have self-esteem issues.

Maybe more on that later.