A foreigner outside a window

I remember when I thought 'wisdom' a large word. I was short then, and infused with all sorts of charming antics that made adults remark on how cute I was. There was little in the world to trouble me; a scrapped knee, a lost toy, or a denied sweetie were enough to set my world rocking on its foundations. But what was that? Was that innocence? foolishness?

No, it was the reasoning of a child. A woman I know once told me that growing up is like looking through a window. When you are young you can only see the tops of trees outside so thats all you know. As you grow you realize that there is more and more to see outside that window tell you can step right through it. I am barely tall enough to peek over the window sill; I can not totally understand everything out there.

Something that is outside that window is wisdom. It is growing up tree trunks and entwining with rose thorns, it's thrusting spindly white roots deep into soft soil. It is there, outside. I see it now and it seems bigger then when I was little. There is so much of it out there, and the taller I grow the farther down I see its roots extending. Simply listening to adults and friends talking or reading a book causes realizations to burst in my brain.

One realization that has graced my being is that wisdom is entirely different from knowledge.

"Wisdom is not finally tested in the schools, Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof." - Walt Whitman

"To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must observe." - Marilyn vos Savant

Wisdom does not belong to the mind only. It seems to be a soup of morals, knowledge, open mindedness, and a ton of other factors not related to simply studying from books. Wisdom can be had everywhere! Ounce I found this out I have had an amusing time listening to random conversations in restaurant booths behind me and crowds in the streets.

You see, I am finding out how to sail a ship in a crowded sea. I am just a fool looking for a way to mean more to this world then an artist scribbling on papers. I have a feeling it will take awhile.

Inspirations of someone else

So in my many reading expeditions I have found an abundance of talented illustrators who's art I adore. They can capture a scene just right with the perfect shading and lines. But none have I yet to discover that rivals my affection for Keith Thompsons art. He is one of the greatest illustrators I have yet to see. Of coarse that is just my opinion, but i will not budge from it!

I found him while I was reading a novel by Scott Westfield. It is an easy but entertaining read, I would have read the other books in the series. They just wouldn't have been on the top of my extensive book list. When I saw the pictures I knew I was going to be a devote follower of this book. I just needed, in some way, to own this mans art. Gah! He is so talented!

The first book is Leviathan and the second is Behemoth.

These two pictures are from the second book in the series which I am currently reading and enjoying thoroughly.


These three are from Leviathan. Mr. Thompson works mostly with pencil, charcoal and erasers. It's no wonder he inspires me so much because those are my favored medium to work with. I just want to yell or somehow express myself vocally when I see his art but I can't. My sister laughs at me when react to one of his drawings, I usually end up flailing and saying "oh my gosh" and "It's not fair!". It is fair because he probably worked very hard to get this good. It makes me want to work hard too.

More please!

Her is more of Keith Thompsons art work. This art is so good! He can draw creepy things that are quite frightening but none the less superbly done!

This one, labeled The Scribe, is my favorite. a million stories jump into my head at the sight of it! Beside everyone of his pictures on his website Mr. Thompson writes a little story. This one is very intriguing!

So cool!
Another of my favorites, The Guardpost, it's story is quite fictionally pleasing! I love it!
The Mollusk Tree. So creative!

Whatever...

I don't know what to write.

Lately I have become such an introvert. When I got this big drawing table for my sixteenth birthday I rearranged my room. Now I have this corner that is dedicated entirely to art and my crafty side. This is awesome except now I do not want to leave my room . I feel like one of those hermits in movies that everyone thinks is a witch until the main character finds that they really have this amazing totally normal talent. I mean, I would feel like that... if everyone thought I was a witch. Maybe thats not such a great example. Oh well, who cares.

My sister is in my room at the moment doing embarrassing dance moves to get a reaction out of me. Those who know her can probably picture it rather well.

Well, I think thats all the randomness I can come up with.

bye ;)

A factual guide to feelings irrational

Alright, beware I am going to go all God crazy and spiritual beliefs on everyone just about now. I warn you I do not mean to offend anyone because I have no idea what, exactly, is about to come tumbling from my mind. If I do offend, that is your problem because I clearly stated I don't mean to offend. Don't take anything personally. This is what is on my mind now, so here it goes.

I must say, I am unsure as how to start. Maybe just being truthful would be best.

For the past couple weeks, me and God have not been on the best terms. I felt alienated from His presence. Every time I endeavored to stay quiet and listen for Him I felt so distracted; I would start thinking of friends or a movie that I had not seen in so long and I should probably vacuum my carpet, it is looking rather covered in dog hair, etc. etc. I felt as though God was so far away that I could no longer touch or feel Him in my life. I had not felt Him in so long, what was I doing wrong? Was He angry at me? Every time I prayed I would feel like He couldn't hear me. I felt so alone and I felt like I had no one to talk to, I felt frustrated, sad, isolated. I felt, I felt, I felt.

Did you notice that? All those "I feel..."s?

Well, I didn't until God finally had to smack me with His words. He, not very politely, informed me that I was being a self-centered whinny twit who was so concerned with how I felt that I was missing the facts of Him. Feelings and emotions had so infested my mind I could think of little else. My feelings would show me nothing, He said. Feelings could not inform me of Gods plan for me or anything else that would contribute something of value to my life. And they would defiantly not tell me any truths.

I am a teenager and strong emotions come naturally to my peers and I, but that is no excuse. No matter how emotionally prone you are, which is immensely in my case, wisdom and common knowledge can always be called upon to overcome those irrational thoughts. Even if it takes an insult from the God on High.

After this happened, I felt lighter. Conviction and grace had descended upon me at ounce. It was a lovely realization. Patiance comes more naturally now that annoyed feelings can just go hang themselves. Kindness and tolerance have first pick of my actions. Others centeredness is a lovely thing. Self-conciouse fears cease and freedom reigns supreme!

Of coarse, I will stumble and fall many more times. I am not perfect and I will never claim to be; if I do, I give anyone full permission to smack me as hard as they see fit. Ironically, lately my greatest stumbling block is over-emotional people who rely on feelings instead of thinking to figure out their feelings. Hypocritical, no?

It is very hypocritical, but indulge me for a second.

To think that just because you do not have a boyfriend at this moment in time dose not mean you are "unworthy to be loved." I mean seriously. Come on! With more then the majority of your life ahead of you that kind of thinking is just demented! We are teenagers. Yes, it is nice to have someone to speak your mind to and hold hands with, but being without one is not going to kill you. It will not mark you as "unlovable" or curse your love life for eternity. I am getting worked up. I do not want to offend but this is an occurring emotional instance that grinds my nerves to a pulp thus making it hard for me to find sympathy for the teen who is going through this.

But to that I am called time and time again. Some of my dearly beloved friends are having these thoughts and are seeking me out to talk about it. Dang it, God, You want me to get over this pet peeve don't you? Well, please guard my words.

Please, do not mistake my meaning. Feelings should never be stifled or purged from your life. They are essential to many experiences in life. Expressing yourself would be impossible without them. Many great masterpieces of music and art would not exist if their creator had no feelings or emotions. Falling in love would be incredibly difficult. And living a life without any intense passion for someone or something would be a life not fit to live! It would be like living John Lennon's Imagine world; which would be horrible, by-the-way. Ahem, I am getting ahead of myself, that is a topic for a future post.

Anyway, all I am trying to say is that God has revealed Himself, in the Bible and personal experiences, to be a logical God within the realms of Himself. I say this carefully because it is not very logical to many people to believe in something you can neither see, touch, taste or smell. Oh, how little those people know.

Let logic and facts be a guide to know Him more fully, feelings can not usurp the role of His Voice efficiently in your life. I pray my attempts in this won't turn into a sinners hash. God is the way and the truth and the life. How can a human feeling beat that? Only from facts can true emotions be born. Feel those and rejoice in Him who bestowed them.

"I shall live for ever and ever and ever!"

Well, The Secret Garden has come and gone. After I finished it I held my do-not-read-for-the-remainder-of-the-day fast. It is my way of saying thank you and goodbye to a book that really struck deep or was just fabulously written; this book was both.

It was just perfect! The delightful child characters developed and progressed naturally and smoothly. Frances Hodgson Burnett must have got along splendidly with children; she captures their play and attitudes superbly. It is no wonder when she was the mother to two boys. I felt like I was with them as they planted and tended the garden.

The adults in the story were wonderfully thick as well. By thick I mean full and completely developed so they seemed like three demential humans that had more to them then you, as the reader, could see. Oh! it was genius!

The story starts in the winter and when I started it we were in the throws of a Wyoming winter. As we drove toward CA the weather warmed as it did in the book. I was enchanted!

Make believe will always be too much fun

"Growing up is a barbarous business." - Captain Hook, 2003 movie adaption of Peter Pan.

Is it all that bad?

When I was younger I considered it the most aweful thing that could happen. The death of imagination is growing up, I thought. I swore I would wait for Peter Pan so that we could fly to Neverland and never grow up. I have a window that would be perfect for it. But he never came. I fretted about growing to adulthood and leaving the sweet world of innocence behind.

But now, as I reach young womanhood, I realize that retaining the mind and un-responsiblity of a child would not be so joyful after all. No, there are so many wonders that can not be experienced as a child that you do as an adult. Independence, individuality, opinions and knowing your own mind all come with the first growing pains.

Nobody stops growing up; no matter their age of a being they are still growing up. When you are little, you just have a much more acute sense of what is happening to your mind and body.

Growing up isn't bad; it means leaving old habits and feelings that have grown dear to you behind, yes. But there seem to be even greater habits and feelings to replace them. These new ones are broader, they are more filled and overflowing then the little simple ones of a little simple self.

Little ones are so adorable when they have their little dreams and fancies, which seem to them quite big. I loved being little! I have many stories and ideas because of that section of my life but shedding it and stepping forward has long past. Looking back fondly is all I can and ever want to do now.

Good Morning, Glue

Of resent events and non-happenings, these have been my joys and happy luxuries.

#1 - Collaging. I have been working on one collage for a few days now, it is nothing special but I have immensely enjoyed making it. I will post it on here when I get it just right. That will be a good day!
#2 - Norwegian Porridge! Oh my gosh! this stuff is the food of Gods! I need nothing else when I eat it; not comfort, not friends, not men!! Thats how good it is! Well, maybe that last one is a bit extreme, but this delicacy I could eat always! It is just rice, milk and water boiled together and stirred for an hour then smothered in butter, sugar and cinnamon! It is amazing!!!!
#3 - Waking up. Although I do not look like a photo shopped happy baby, I have been feeling happy when I wake up; I haven't a clue why. Maybe it is the feeling of getting to finish things that began the day before; yes, anticipating accomplishments and general business of the day ahead.

Well, thats that. It is currently 12:23 so I am going to crawl into my covers and wait for the sun to rise so I can wake up again. good night!

Photos: Loose Leaf Notes, Norwegian cooking, I have no idea who the baby is.

Some angels on the streets

Today was a day of great ordinariness. I am so excited because I had no idea that 'ordinariness' was even a word! Who knew, right? Anyway, I got up, I read my Bible, took a shower, then went down stairs to eat breakfast like any normal day. My mum (I prefer the way 'mum' sounds more 'mom' or 'mother'; those just sound so stilted) was down stairs with eggs waiting on the stove. I love her lots!Our kitchen is strewn with odds and ends; magazines and computer cords usually lie across the table like centipedes in a recycling heap. Books are easily found among assortments of clothes freshly tumbled and warmed from the drier. For a few days I had noticed a thin paperback book with a bright red cover which read One Lady at a Time. I had wondered what it was and mildly thought "what could that strange title mean?" but had never picked it up to find answer my questions.

This morning, while painting my toes a bright shade of sparkly green, the book was sitting on the table in front of my empty plate. My mum picked it up and started flipping threw it. My curiosity got the better of me,

"What is that book about?" I asked. My mum explained that it was a book written by the head of the Walter Hoving Home in Pasadena, CA and Garrison, NY. It is a home for women who choose to get out of prostitution and drug addiction. The couple who run it are strong christians who have two children of their own but choose to take care of these women as well.

This book, One Lady at a Time, was a collection of stories from the home or outreaches around it. My mum offered to read some allowed to me. I sat waiting for my toes to dry and listened to the simple stories of John and Elsie Bentons excursions to dangerous neighborhoods around their New York home.

They were by no means fabulously written, but their simple style lent a sense of humility and grace to the words. Gods love showed in Johns descriptions of the girls on the streets and the tenderness his wife showed them. These two people I have incredible respect for, How can they have such self sacrifice? I feel challenged when I now think of them. Greater humility, greater sacrifice, greater love, and greater obedience to God can only yield one thing; that is more fulfillment then any other practice on earth. God shows this threw the Bentons; two Jesus's walking around New York doing good and great things for women in need. They do God proud!

A blue dance

I have been leaving the windows open in my room. I am still existing within the pages of The Secret Garden which is causing me to nurse a feeling not unlike that of a caged animal.

The inside air is still, it is unchanging and stale. When I burst my windows open the cold beautiful air just covers me! It possesses the magic of a velvet dress; creating a new fresh sense of beauty that feels to wonderful to be unreal. The air outside is soft; it folds around you and washes you clean. I feel like a princess when I am dressed in it.

It has a lovely pale blue color to it, a misty color if you will, with a touch of silver. O! It is truly magical in nature! So natural, so perfect. And so generous to let me be part of it's enchanted dance. It lingers in me and makes me wish to fling my arms wide to take it with me wherever I go.

How can anyone care for the summer air when there is this delicious stuff in the winter?

Running with rabbits

I have found an artist that I absolutely adore! I found her through another artists blog I follow, Kelley Murray. Her name is Kareena Zerefos and I adore her art so very dearly! Her pictures bring back memories of when we lived in Burbank. We inhabited a tiny house with a huge backyard; though it was not ideal for our parents it was a magical place for my sister and I. Days of battling evil rats and hiding under mushrooms, or umbrellas, when it rained, also known as sprinklers.

It also excites the mind into insane inspiration that makes me want to sit down at my drawing table and work until my fingers cramp and paint stains my face and hands.

Anyway, enough of my nostalgia and more of these wonderful art pieces!

A grand intention

"A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man's mind can get both provocation and privacy."

-Edward P. Morgan

Edward P. Morgan captured what i realized today. I was sitting at the kitchen table reading The Secret Garden while I ate a delicious egg sandwich. I was not myself while I read. I had a feeling as though I wasn't anyone really. It was not a "Oh my gosh!!!" kind of feeling, just a simple relieving sensation. I was a conciseness watching and listening and being beside Mary and Dickon in the garden. I was not a spirit, just rather real in the book. Thats the way it felt, it felt like reality for a bit.

That was the safe haven that our friend Mr. Morgan was speaking of. I could easily think as though I was little Mistress Mary while I was hovering near by. I could know things about animals that I do not actually know.

Characters in books are interesting. Authors create them and fill them with thoughts to think and instincts to act upon, not unlike stuffing a teddy bear, then they lay them in pages to be looked at and studied. But what puzzles me is their openness. No matter how well rounded the characters are, you are able to apply a bit of something unique to them.

What I mean is, when you talk about a book with your friends their experience of it is always slightly different then yours. The characters can act as sheaths that are easy to fit into. When in one of these character sheaths I can contemplate emotions or evils that I haven't or never will experience.

So with these qualities of books I realized another one: books are not for finishing. To read a book simply to finish it is a sacrilege! An insult to authors and their art. Fiction, essay, fantasy, biography, information, etc. are for learning and experiencing. I am sorry to say I have read a few books to finish them but I vow to never attempt it again. Better to not read at all.

Read like you mean it!

New Years thoughts

A new year has rolled its fresh self around us. What will it hold for us?

Some of us will have adventure delivered in boxes with strange addresses. Some of us will receive love in pretty ribbons. Some of us will find intriguing opportunities laid out plainly. Others still will have joy tumbling down about them like rain.

I do not know what I will be given. These last three days have been filled with joy and accomplishments.(wow i can not spell to save my life, since when has that been spelled with two 'c's and no 'k'?) I have discovered that I can take joy from so many little weird activities. I adore rearranging(Gaah! three 'r's! really?) the books on my shelves, putting away groceries, cleaning my room or loading the dish washer. Then there are the less weird joys, such as collaging, taking walks in the rain, reading, dancing, listening to the wind, thinking about God and praying. There are so many delightful things that I could make this post as long as the Mississippi River(Ha! I spelled it right the first time!).

But something else popped into my attention while I was contemplating joy, Fear. We do not think about fear, at least we try not to. I find myself saying "Oh, I am not afraid of much, a few things here and there but nothing serious."

LIES!!

Fear is everywhere in me. It is there in everyone. I Fear so much it demands to be capitalized every time I write it. I feel it orbiting between my skull and brain. It covers my ambition(that is stupidly spelled. I mean, come on!) and it frustrates me!

Without Fear I would have accomplished grand things last year. I probably would have entered an art contest, or just painted more.

I am afraid of silly things that don't need fear. I Fear people I don't know, I Fear what they could think of me when they probably don't even think of me at all. I Fear being shallow. I Fear being fat. I Fear ordering my own food or coffee at cash registers, I am getting better at this one though. I found I have a legitimate Fear of zombies. These do not need my Fear.

Then I have the Fear of Failure. The classic Fear of Trying. The Fear of Not Being the Best. These Fears I hate. I do not need these Fears. I want with all my being to be a risk taker, an explorer of distant lands and activities. I can only turn to God when these fears set in. I have begged and cried before Him to take these Fears away from my flawed being. He has been good to me.

They are still there but they no longer eat at me. When I wish to take a risk at something or try something new I hold back. Hesitation, the child of fear, grabs me. I pray, hoping God will shake him off me. He does when it is His will that I take a risk.

The fears are lessening; I realize I have but to say Gods name and they will depart from me. I am being freed, I do not have to capitalize the name of fear. So there!

This New Year is looking up, have a good one all you cashiers and zombies. I will take joy in renouncing you! Look for grand wil things by Tallis R.D. in 2011!

Bye now