1word

"Giulio said, "Maybe you and Rome just have different words."

"What do you mean?"

He said, "Don't you know that the secret to understanding a city and its people is to learn—what is the word on the street?"

Then he went on to explain, in a mixture of English, Italian and hand gestures that every city has single word that defines it, that identifies most people who live there. If you could read people's thoughts as they were passing you on the streets of any given place, you would discover that most of them are thinking the same thought. Whatever that majority thought might be—that is the word of the city. And if your personal word does not match the word of the city, then you don't really belong there."

Giulio asked, "What's the word in New York City?"

I thought about this for a moment, then decided. It's a verb, of course. "I think it's ACHIEVE." (Which is subtly but significantly different from the word in Los Angeles, I believe, which is also a verb: SUCCEED.)

My friend Sofie offers her opinion that the word on the streets of

Stockholm is CONFORM, which depresses the both of us.

"What was the word in your family when you were growing up?" asked Giulio.

That one was difficult. I was trying to think of a single word that somehow combines both FRUGAL and IRRELEVANT. But Giulio was already on to the next and most obvious question: "What's your word?"

"Now that, I definitely could not answer. And still, after a few weeks of thinking about it, I can't answer it any better now. I know some words that it definitely isn't. It's not MARRIAGE, that's evident. It's not FAMILY (though this was the word of the town I'd lived in for a few years with my husband, and since I did not fit with that word, this was a big cause of m suffering.) It's not DEPRESSION anymore, thank heavens. I'm not concerned that I share Stockholm's word of CONFORM. But I don't feel that I'm entirely inhabiting New York City's ACHIEVE anymore, either, though that had indeed been my word all throughout my twenties. My word might be SEEK. (Then again, let's be honest—it might just as easily be HIDE.)

"...I don't know the answer, and I suppose that's what this year of journeying is about. Finding my word."


_Elizabeth Gilbert--Eat, Pray, Love



Elizabeth Gilbert writes in her book, Eat Love Pray, about the concept of a word that identifies you. While some may argue that it is just too simplistic to define oneself by one word, I find it a very interesting concept that can be both enlightening and revelational. Choosing only one word makes it a introspective process to find a broad yet all the while objective word.

I loved that Gilbert shared words that she wasn't so proud of herself for, words that she used to be.

I think it is interesting to sit down and really think about where life has led oneself, to think about the WORD that we were all about in highschool, at the beginning of college, now..etc. The WORD that we overcame, grew out of, and even, the WORD that we want to be....the WORD God has spoken over us or called us to be.

and then, truthfully, the word we really are. Does this line up?

Think on it. Reflect on it. Pray on it.

So, what defines you? I'd love to know--whats your word? Be honest if you want to be, share. What's the word you want to be? What's the word you should be? What's the word your family has put on you that you don't fit with? What's the word you fight in your environment, workplace, or community?



The word I’ve fought the most in my life and still do is COMPROMISE. Compromise on dreaming so big. Compromise on the man God has for me, compromise and be more realistic about making money…etc I can go on…

The word that describes me and my life right now is YIELD. My first word would have been surrender cus that’s all that floats around in my head. Surrender surrender surrender, you’re not in control, everything will fall into place, I tell myself. Yield came to my mind and I think it is more fitting because I am relinquishing and surrendering everything to God, but surrender isn’t where it stops.

In traffic, when one car “yields,” it is proceeding with caution. It is stopping, but also expecting another car to proceed or come forth.

In engineering and in materials science, the yield strength or yield point of a material is defined as the stress at which a material begins to deform plastically. Prior to the yield point the material will deform elastically and will return to its original shape when the applied stress is removed. Once the yield point is passed some fraction of the deformation will be permanent and non-reversible.

In short, I am letting go, stopping, but am in full expectation of HIS coming-forth.

Ironically also, I am yielding to his mold. I do not want to be the stubborn “material,” if you will, that always goes back to the shape I was in. I want to let every “stress,” every path that he lets me walk mold me into the the person he has called me to be permanently.

Warm Whispers

That the end never justifies the in-betweens
Doesn’t always leave me wanting more,
Just wanting
To know

So tell me, how did it feel
When your walls fell
Or did they?
When you said those sentences to me,
Just a little?

Well I wanted to kick your walls down
Instead, I refrained.
Stood back
Only picked up a brick every other day,
Measured the burden in my hand.
Honey, I
Threw it with all my strength
As far as I could
Praying that it would
Forever change
The weight, the strength,
The height and force of your wall.
I was for you.

And you weren’t ready for
My weight, my strength,
My height, the force of it all,
But I know
You wanted

And when you look back
I know,
You know
I was for you.

We said goodbye
Without a breath

I lost you
And it was effort-
less

The possibilitie's over me

I have to remind myself that...life is happening.

"My Soul is thirsty for your lead. I'm running. My feet are burning with
desire. My physical spirit wants to plow forward, my emotional heart is
drenched with expectation."

-Rachelle Robertson.


Chances are, we'll be the combination. chances are....waiting to be taken.

Shine

Don't be hiding in sorrow
Or clinging to the past
With your beauty so precious
And the season so fast
No matter how cold the horizon appear
Or how far the first night
When I held you near
You gotta rise from these ashes
Like a bird of flame
Step out of the shadow
We've gotta go where we can shine

For all that we struggle
For all we pretend
It don't come down to nothing
Except love in the end
And ours is a road
That is strewn with goodbyes
But as it unfolds
As it all unwinds
Remember your soul is the one thing
You can't compromise

_David Gray

I pray

I pray for your path
I pray for your feet
I pray not for you to be removed from
Walking the path that brings Him the utmost glory and joy
Without me
I pray for your deepest affection, mind, and heart to be set on Glory

I pray for my path
I pray for my feet
I pray not to be removed from
Walking the path that brings Him the utmost glory and joy
Without you
I pray for my deepest affection, mind, and heart to be set on glory

At the end of the road
Our paths knotted
Our purposes collided
Our callings sure
Our faces upright
Looking not into one another’s
But deeply and intently into our Creator’s


Now and still
I pray for our path, I pray for our direction
I pray our path brings Him the utmost glory and joy

I pray the deepest of our affection, the deepest of our minds, the deepest of our hearts
To be set on Glory

Pieces of my Life

Jon Foreman. Possessed by Truth

There's so much I want to write. I know i say this a lot, but it's true. I am excited about school being over soon so I can devote more time to writing and posting some pictures of every day life on here. This has already been a crazy year and it's just began. I love every bit of it.


I read this post today written by Jon Foreman, singer and songwriter of Switchfoot.

It resonated with me and I thought I should share it until I can get my own thoughts together, heh.



Possessed by Truth


I am in seat 23 E on a flight from San Diego to Dallas. It's a middle seat. I'm trying to remain composed and tranquil; I am failing. As far as I can tell the baby behind me feels about the same way I do. I thumb through the airline magazine (my regular watering hole for current events), until I start to wonder what viscous substance stuck the pages of the magazine together in the first place. I put the magazine back, stretch into the seat, and rub a sore neck.

Out of nowhere, I am struck by a thought. A thought that has boundless implications. A thought that feels more important than the seat belt/life-vest exhibition. So I write the idea on the back of my hand:

"Maybe truth is not something that I can possess. Maybe truth is something which possesses me."

I look at the words now scrawled on the back of my hand. I think it over and look away. The clouds are turning colors, blue, grey, green, purple. The sun is setting off somewhere behind me. It's my favorite time of day. I look back at my hand and read the idea again.

"Maybe truth is something which possesses me."

To be possessed by truth rather than the other way round is a thought that goes against much of what I have been taught. In fact, most of my education has been presented as a growing accumulation of truth. Throughout public school, I was graded on my comprehension of the facts. The higher grades were awarded to those who really owned the material.

The idea that truth has no owner turns the whole arrangement on its head. Maybe the straight-A students were the ones who surrendered to the system. Maybe they became servants and allowed the information to become their master, devoting countless hours of study to prove their devotion. Perhaps I was too devoted to other things in high school; I was possessed by the Pacific, going surfing whenever I could. I would never say that I owned the ocean, but I would certainly say that the ocean owned me. I surrendered to its call and resisted the truth that high school had to offer.

We now have more information than thousands of years of humanity could ever dream of. Without any effort at all, we could know the weather anywhere around the world, the population of Taiwan, or the first lady's middle name (I'm going to look it up as soon as I get off the flight). With this sort of data at our fingertips, we truly possess more facts than past civilizations would ever hope for. And yet, the meaning of it all is just as elusive as ever. I'm still sitting on a plane unsure as to whether the middle seat is occupying me or the other way round.

The idea spins around in my head -- so I look to folks that are smarter than me. I turn my thoughts to Sir Isaac Newton and the physical law most commonly associated with his name: gravity. The basic idea of gravitational pull is simple to understand -- a clumsy step on the stairs could prove Newton right. And yet this awkward fall does not prove that I am now the proud owner of gravity. No, quite the opposite. I might have a bruise or worse to call my own, but gravity certainly possesses me. I am under the dominion of the truth of gravity whether I fully understand the law or not.

I look out at the fading hills and imagine someone driving home from work. He's going bald quicker than he thinks. He just bought himself a car that screams one thing: MiddleAgeCrisisSportsCar. He begins the drive he takes home from work everyday. The traffic lights, the cars around him, the flat tire...these are all facts that he encounters on the way home; this is the data that he is responding to. He is under the influence of the facts around him. It's not determinism; free will is still involved. And yet, rarely will he choose to ignore a red light or slam into the car next to him. He does not possess the facts, the facts possess him and he drives accordingly.

Our market economy is fueled by ownership. The water we drink, the land that we live on, even our ideas are referred to as intellectual property as our world becomes homogenized into merchandise. These products are to be bought or sold -- anyone's private possession for the right price. But from time to time we ask the question: Who owns who? Is the MiddleAgeCrisisSportsCar the possession of a man who's losing his hair? Or is our balding friend possessed by his MiddleAgeCrisisSportsCar? Does he give the car her identity, or does the MiddleAgeCrisisSportsCar with her sleek lines and bright red paint lend the gentleman her personality for a brief moment of remembered youth?

Yes, our possessions possess us far more than we'd like to admit. And yet, even in our capitalist culture, we don't think of our friends or family this way. Outside of the greek life at college, most relationships have nothing to do with money changing hands. Yes, you may possess friends, but you would never call these friends your possession. When we fall in love we fall under the spell of another. You might say that your buddy is whipped, "He is possessed. She owns him." The truth of the one you love is most certainly something that possesses you and not the other way round.

I come up for air as the lady next to me, in 23 F is rubbing the perfume from the magazine onto her wrists. Smelling her wrists. Then repeating. She is trying to keep the fragrance with her, to possess the essence of the advertisement. I feel a sneeze coming on. Yes. Here it comes. For a brief moment there, I possessed a sneeze. No, actually I think the sneeze possessed me.

The stewardess hands me my orange juice. She sees the writing on the back of my hand and throws me a Sarah Palin comment. Dang it. Chris Martin disclaimers were hard enough. I explain that I've been writing things on my hands for a long time. There, good. At least we have an understanding. Now she has the truth. I look back at my hand, even writing this particular truth down on the back of my hand is a reason to think: Do I now have possession of this truth, owning its understanding or am I now temporarily tattooed with this truth, subservient to its reality?

My thoughts drift to religion. These are the truths that people live by and hold dear. In many ways, these are the truths that inspire our best and worst moments. The truths that motivate Mother Theresa and start religious wars. How can this be? How can fresh water and salt water come from the same hose? Perhaps it has to do with this concept of possession. If I view the truth as my possession to keep safe, I might feel the need to protect my faith. But if I am possessed by the truth, perhaps this protection is no longer needed. Maybe I am set free from the need to defend the truth, rather the truth defends me.

The idea of defending an all-powerful deity feels a bit silly when it's put out in the wind like that. And yet, that sentiment seems to epitomize much of what religion has come to mean. After centuries of witch-hunts, inquisitions and holy wars, many are still fighting hard to defend their faith in an omnipotent God who has no need of our protection. Maybe we are still protecting our beliefs as though we were the owners of this truth.

The "truth" of loving those around me, the "truth" of seeking justice for the oppressed, the "truth" of a life of service -- these are truths to be possessed by: to be a slave in the service of the kingdom of the heavens, to be the servant of all. If the truths in this life have no owner then we are set free: free from the need to defend the truth, free to be possessed by this truth and simply live it out. Truth becomes much too large for me to possess; truth is the beauty and authenticity which possesses me.

Maybe the meaning of life is not something that I can control, but rather a reality which possesses me. Maybe there is no life guiding "fact" that I can put in my back pocket, as though I were the sole owner of the universe. Perhaps The-Meaning-of-Life-Himself is asking me the questions. When I look at a sunset, when I hear the songs of the ocean gulls, when I feel the warmth of family and friends, I am reminded of a story that is bigger than I am. Yes, this is my story but not mine alone. Truth was never mine alone. Truth is that which possesses me.

Oh and for the record, it's Michelle LaVaughn Obama. But I think that I might have already known that...



-Jon Foreman