no sense.

 Recently I have been dreaming dreams of my potential, and what God has in store for me in my future. Its unsure to me; which feels as though my body has been ingested and spat out – a half digested, unrecognizable mound of matter. I dislike the unknown, as I dislike the quickly changing weather. I now feel as though I must walk through life blindly, with arms flailing frantically in front of me.

 Life doesn't make much sense recently.

The perspiration on the glass
leaves solitary trails.
My eyes will chase each to the last,
while biting nervous nails.

 Into confusion I am hurled,
wind sings a lonesome hymn.
I'm drowning in this frozen world,
I don't know how to swim.

Time is small and fits in my palm,
all tin gears and lost rod.
It ticks inside me like a bomb,
the end an act of God.

At times the past comes back for me,
I try to fight alone,
Instead I give it bitter tea,
and ask it in my home.

~C

just give me 'till then to give up this fight.

Love is a softly spoken word, 

That whispers to your soul. 

But to my ears is left unheard --

I cannot feel at all. 

I spin you tales of loss -- regret,
in hopes to bring you near.
Your fondness then becomes a threat,
I hide my mind in fear.

You were not who I thought you were, 

Nor I who I pretend. 

This brief affair was all a blur, 

perhaps is best to end. 

When in the dark I lie alone,

and think what could have been, 

if that one word could reach the bone

beneath my hardened skin. 

To you my lonesome heart is bound,
this love you must now seek.
For in a noose is tightly wound,
and raw and cold my cheek.

~

Beautiful days and beautiful nights. New experiences, new faces, new life. I seek to be better, I seek to find joy, I seek opportunities to serve.

1 Thessalonians 5:18.

I am thankful for so many things, but mostly, GOD. Without him I would have nothing else to be thankful for.

I am thankful for every break in my heart, every scar, for every page I ever turned, for every door I opened and braved, for all the bridges that I built and burned with pyromaniac enthusiasm, for tears from laughing too hard, or tears from hurting too much, for family, for yesterday, for today. For what is, what was, and what will be. 

I am thankful for you. 

~C

the wind knows my name.

The first snowfall was even more satisfying to me than I imagined it would be. 

Having not slept all night, in the early hours of the morning I pushed aside the slats covering my large livingroom window, and sat on the carpet wrapped in a heavy quilt. I watched a thick blanket of clouds embrace the valley from mountain top to mountain top, before releasing its delicate cargo.

Oh, how I love the snow. 

One of the things that I find most pleasurable about winter are the nights. Where the sky turns a rich plum color, with glowing orange hues; where tendrils of mist caress the sliver of moon that peeks shyly between the hazy sky – running wispy fingers down its silver spine. The air almost seems to shiver in delight. 

There is no peace I've known that can quite compare to the absolute still of a windless, silent winter eve – where the gently falling snow that melts on eyelashes and dusts your body invokes the deepest of thoughts with its graceful decent. 

As I sit here now, I close my eyes; and in a wave of longing I conjure you from my mind and recollect a night that has yet to happen.

We sit huddled together, the space between our blushing noses is shallow. The only sounds are the bubbling laughter and whispered plots that drown in the silence. Sounds that even the trees have to lean in close to hear – who quickly become enraptured by the melodic tone of your voice as your words melt the night – and watch enchanted, as our swirling breath meets and embraces, dancing to your lullaby, drifting gracefully into the atmosphere. 

My lips are chapped with cold, and wet from my tongue that pushes through them in a rush of words – as secrets tumble from the swollen spaces of my mind – forming letters that freeze and fall into your lap. 

And you gather them up, and put them into your pocket for safe keeping. The hands on the clock turn with the shifting of the earth, so we lose ourselves in the stillness of the night.

It is not winter yet however. But anticipation of it all floods my veins with a fire I cannot quench. But I am patient. 

November (n.): the last month of autumn, but the beginning of a new adventure; time to take risks and do the unexpected. 

I have been striving to get to know myself better. It feels like being reintroduced to an old friend you'd forgotten you knew. I am realizing with each passing day that I am more and more powerful of a being – and yet more damaged with a pain that demands to be felt – than even I had previously imagined. I may even be quite out of my mind, as I am currently lost in mazes built by a bitter past; seeking an escape. 

I see the world in a way that the normal, mentally healthy individuals surrounding me can't – wont. They cant see it, or feel it, because their senses aren't engaged and raw. They wake up in the morning, go through their day mechanically, and they never open their eyes. 

They are blind. 

By closing your eyes to the ugly and painful, you similarly close your eyes to the beautiful and pleasurable – the complex magic in the universe that you cannot see unless you deliberately seek it out. Then, and only then, will you be able to transform your tormented old soul, into ecstatic beauty. It is always easier to be miserable; because to suffer is often less complex of an emotion comparatively to happiness. It is easy to be piteous, and frequently it is unavoidable. But to use that anguish and transform it into a passion and a ferocity that only exemplifies the magnificence of our world – is a rareness indeed. And though I may oftentimes be unstable, fragile, flighty, sensitive, fearful, insecure, and uncertain – these terrible, ugly things – I still am able to look upon the earth unblinking, and intensely understand. 

And it fills me with peace. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, 
But I have promises to keep, 
And miles to go before I sleep, 
And miles to go before I sleep. 

~C

hearts hunger.

People are always waiting.

Waiting for the sun to rise again over mountains on the horizon. Waiting for sleep to consume troubled thoughts on lonely nights. Waiting for a phone call, for the alarm clock to go off, for the microwave to reach zero, for school to start, for school to end, for paychecks, for summer, for spring, for love.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Our lives are the night sky: filled with so much black and empty space – the endless waiting – and the little pinpricks of twinkling light, representing the anti-climatic moment of the finality of reaching what you've been waiting for. Only to continue on past that one fleeting moment to float around in the darkness; waiting once again for something to happen.

There are so many missed opportunities because we concern ourselves not on keeping our eyes focused on the road in front of us, but the destination in the future. In doing so, we miss all of the beauty, and life that surrounds us.

This is perhaps one of my greatest faults; I do this that I may always have something to look forward to – keep me pressing on when life gets hard. How can I give up if Halloween is just around the corner? Or piles of crunchy leaves? The first snowfall? The smell of Christmas? The sound of rain?

If I always keep my eyes so far into the future, then maybe I wont need to face the present. I wont need to confront the frightening realization that the reason I am not happy is because I am sitting at a bus stop waiting for the opportunities to come; rather than running to the bus station, stealing the keys, and driving that freaking opportunity bus to who knows where – to create my own adventure. I have gotten comfortable with being comfortable.

And that isn't me.

I woke up very early a few days back. I had this terrible unquenchable ache to run. Not the, "Oh gosh, I shouldn't have had so many carbs yesterday," kind of run. No, this was a sheer tidal wave of panic; my soul was demanding for me to do something so inherently ME, that I couldn't get out the door fast enough. Hair still damp from the shower I had taken the night before, my face bare, and with one limb still flailing to get into the other arm of my jacket, I ran quickly down the steps of my apartment and into the open air.

It was still dark outside, the sky glowing with a mere hint of morning light. The panic was building, and I ran faster, and faster; my feet followed only a memory of a place I had once gone to pick dandelions, sage, and lavender to dry for my medicines. I fell while climbing over the old wooden fence, scraping up my hands. I ran through the trees, pushing the branches out of my path and hearing them snap back behind me. The silence and peace of the dawning day was broken by the sound of alarmed birds as they took off in flight, my own heavy near-hyperventilated breathing, running sneakers, and an irregular pounding heart.

I kept running, and running, and running.

When the panic had been somewhat subdued, I defeatedly crawled between bushes and made myself as small as I possibly could. The screaming in my mind had been quieted to nothing but soft, dejected sobs.

What had happened to me? The things that I had always needed in life to be happy were simple:
1. The sound of the wind in the trees.
2. The smell of the air in a thunderstorm.
3. Timeless romance – whether to satisfy this need with the constant romanticistic narration in my mind, or in my current life story was irrelevant. As long as that need was met.
4. To be needed.
5. Sunsets. Always sunsets.
6. God.

I kept asking myself why. WHY was it that I had to grow up? That this list had changed to:
1. Paying the bills on time.
2. Having and keeping a job, where you do very little, and are easily replaceable.
3. Waking up – which was something I no longer looked forward to.
4. Being taken for granted.
5. God.
6. And sometimes – if I was lucky enough to catch one – a sunset.

Things used to be so easy. So simple.

I just want to cry, and scream, and kick the ground as I throw the most childish of any tantrum as I weep for the unfairness of it all.

My Dad would always say, "you'll understand better when you get older," in response to all of the questions that I would ask. But he lied. Everyone lied. I don't understand better. It only gets more confusing, and more complicated.

I was so angry. Because when I had finally felt what love was, it wasn't what I had always imagined it to be. My story of love had not been written the way that I had always wanted it to be, and it had become a nightmare rather than a fairytale. Because when I had finally had the opportunity to live my life without the shackles of this perception of this ignorant child, it wasn't the adventure I had always believed it would be; it was a doorless, windowless prison.

I realized that my whole life I had become so caught up in my own world, that I truly, and honestly believed that a fairytale life was more than possible. It was mine for the taking. But it had never been that way, and so I cant conceive as to why I would have believed it to be.

These things I had running through my head as I allowed the despair to consume me. With the agony of a broken heart in mourning of lost dreams, my heart cried out to God. To be perfectly honest, I don't even think that any words were formed. I just remember reaching out to him, my soul in utter torment.

I was suddenly aware that the sound of my muffled whimpers had stopped, and my panic, fear, and anger had disappeared entirely like it was never there. I opened my eyes, and was blanketed in a peace, and a relief and it was as if I was waking from a terrible nightmare. Completely calm, I sat quietly. Listening to the sounds only the early morning can bring. The thought came into my head, and I knew it to be absolutely true.

God loved me. This I knew, and had always known. He had created me, with my self proclaimed imperfections and all. If he had created me to be such a wild spirit, to have such an incredible imagination, an absolute raw power for creation, the passionate desire for true love only found in fairytales, and the essential need for utter freedom; would he really create this soul only to trap it here on this planet without the means for fulfilling those necessities?

No.

I stood up, wiped my eyes and shook the leaves out of my hair and began to walk home.

I have a future ahead of me. I cant afford to wait for it anymore – I need to pack a bag of the sound of wind, the smell of rain, sunsets, Jane Austen (she will do for now). God, and people that need me – and find it.

You are the books you read, the films you watch, the music you listen to, the people you meet, the dreams you have, the conversation you engage in. You are what you take from these. You are the sound of the ocean, the breath of fresh air, the brightest light and the darkest corner. You are a collective of every experience you have had in your life. You are every single second of every single day.

So drown yourself in a sea of knowledge and existence while you still can. Let the words run through your veins and let the colors fill your mind until there is nothing left to do but explode in a shower of beauty.

There are no wrong answers.

Inspiration is everywhere.

Sit back, relax, and take it all in.

Now go out and create something.

~C

no smile like yours.

Fingers trace the lines of your mouth,
Behind which are shadows of myst'ry.
I learn the taste of the warmth in your skin,
As the curves of your lips re-write history.

With a shape like a wind curled over the sea;
Where whispers have music in sound,
Like laughter that crashes like waves in my ears,
In midst of the darkness are found.

Your song is the moonlight that melted the snow,
Enchanting my heart for to dance,
In your lullaby lost by the turn of the clock,
And with sly, subtle gazes -- romance.

I believe that as beings that are capable of complex thoughts and opinions, we have a tendency to over-complicate things. The search to finding true happiness is the age old question, that has puzzled so many for so long. But the answer is ultimately so simple – so elementary of a notion – that our intricate minds are unable to gather together the strands of the simplicity of it all to recognize such an idea. We become so caught up in each specific, minor detail of our somewhat insignificant lives that we forget the absolute most natural belief ever conceptualized.

 Find who and what makes you happy, and stick with them. As a dear friend of mine once said to me, "The best things in this world are always worth fighting for."

 Oftentimes I find that I have a habit of living through the happiness of others. I live to make sure that the people that surround me are able to find their own joy, but have taken little time to even think about what lightens my own heart, and stirs my own soul to move. So, I have compiled a list of five things that I love most ardently – with the pure intent of never letting them go from my life.

 1. God.

The number one thing that makes me the most happy is God. All of the other things on my list could slip through my fingers, but if I continue to have Him in my life, all is well. I am changed spiritually as well as physiologically, and through my eyes He softens the harsh lines of the world. When I intentionally seek Him out, I am always greeted with patience, kindness, love, and forgiveness; and I am humbled.

 2. My Only.

The thought of you helps me to have the insatiable desire to be better; to grow stronger – that I may indeed be strong enough to help lift – or carry – you through the darkness when the world becomes too much for you to bear. You bring a light and true happiness to my life through your patience for my flaws, and gentle willingness to understand what you do not. I will never be able to repay to you, what you have given me.

 3. The night.

Mystery. Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving and dreaming. At night, everything is more intense, more honest. The echo of words spoken during the hours of the sun take on new and deeper meanings. There are secrets in the shadows that pique curiosity, and causes  your heart to skip a beat in wonderment.

 4. Words.

Words make me happy. Which is why I always want to know the thoughts of others. To have an emotion or a flash of a dream pass through a minds eye, and I feel compelled to know what it was through the magic of words.

Words that can paint a picture that is more beautiful than anything you have ever seen with your physical eyes, or cause an onslaught of an incurable fit of the laughter and mirth, or words that can writhe in your heart bearing the fruit of screaming, or cause a love and bout of passion to be set afire.

5. Light.

Contradicting perhaps to my love of the night, you may assume. But I am not referencing the light emitting from the tendrils of the sun that melts on your skin like butter, or the light of a comforting lamp in a quiet room, or even a gentle flickering of a sighing flame. As much as I love all of these, the light in a soul is more beautiful to me than all of these. It shines delicately through the pores of your being, and bathes every passerby in its warmth. It cleanses the cold and damp places of a heart with love, and replaces that emptiness with peace.

Five simple rules to happiness:

1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.


~C

*Photo credit: 2, 4, 9 taken by Mike Harman. The rest are, as usual, my own.

This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.

Lately my time has been consumed mostly by modeling gigs, seeing as my two other jobs are barely making ends meet. Its been a wonderful experience to be so immersed in something so wide reaching, and I don't know if I am capable of expressing the feeling – the rush – of being in front of a lens.

I have all of these insecurities, and parts of who I am that I dislike. You would think that I would feel the same way – perhaps even more so whilst someone is snapping pictures of me – but it is the exact opposite. Once you are at the location, you are at the location and there is nothing that you can do to change the way you look because its too late – and all of your personality flaws, all of your faults and limitations can be hidden and you can become whatever you want to be. Its such a freeing feeling.

Its been hard though because I tell every photographer that I do not shoot nudes, that my clothing must be that in accordance to garment standards, and that I do not even do implied nudes. Very few photographers are willing to pay well for that kind of a standpoint when they can get other models to do what I do for free. I would prefer to have people want to work with me using the art that I am able to create be that of sheer talent, rather than to be much desired for my little talent but amazing body that is used solely for objectification purposes.

I felt so wonderful. I felt as if I was finally making my little mark on the world. I haven't accomplished much, and almost every day with my surroundings, my lifestyle, my family; I am reminded of what a failure I feel that I am. And once I began this journey, I thought for sure my family would be proud of me for once. My Parents would proudly say, "That's my girl, the model." and that people would never again say "Thats Karen's sister." or "You will understand when you get older." Because I will have a well respected title.

But I was very wrong.

I finished with a shoot today, and I was telling my Dad about how well it went when he interrupted me. "Cate, I am beginning to like this modeling business less and less." I paused, feeling a little hurt when I said, "is it because of me?" He nodded and then went about to tell me what a disappointment I had become. He felt that my standards were beginning to dwindle away, and that he believed me to be better than this. I went home and cried. I honestly don't know what he wants from me anymore.

I love my Dad. I used to believe that I was his favorite child. But about a year ago, when he was told the truth of my past – though he says he loves me just the same – has never looked at me the same way again. Despite what I do to please him, he never seems to see me as what he used to.

And I hate myself everyday for that.

~C

i can see a lot of life in you.

Who am I?

Who are you?

Perhaps  you've never thought to ask this question to yourself. You might already think that you know and understand exactly who you are.

If you do, congratulations. You have achieved a pure state of self-actualization that very few that have ever lived on this planet has accomplished.

However, through my own journey through soul searching, I have come to my very own understanding of life. And I believe that the previously stated self-actualization is indeed: impossible.

Yes, that's right. Your psychology textbook is lying.

I don't believe that you can ever really know who you are, because you are always changing. You are always thinking, always growing, and always learning. Your priorities change, your goals are fulfilled or set aside for later discovery, you obtain new ideas, and preconceived notions and opinions can be re-written or simply misunderstood.

People are complex beings.

The best things in life are always the nearest: Breath in your lungs, light in your eyes, ground beneath your feet, potential at your hands, a God above your head, and the path of right just before you. Every day you may make progress down this path. Every single step and solitary movement may (or may not) prove to be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know that you will never get to the end of the journey; not really. But that this, the twists and turns, rocks and mountains – that have been so ultimately discouraging – only adds to the joy and glory of the climb. It is not always the fight to touch the stars, but to do life's plain, common work as it comes. For more often than not, the struggle to accomplish the daily duties and earn your daily bread, result in the sweetest things in life.

I was talking with a friend who was engaged in the daily battle of survival, and we had an interesting discussion while sitting on a blanket of grass under the night sky. He said that he wished that he could always know when and what trial that the Lord was going to send his way, as well as the outcome; that he might be prepared for it. I thought about it, and realized that life, for me, would no longer have any sense of meaning at all. If I always knew who was going to win at a board game, what would be the purpose in playing it? If I knew the whole story of an unopened book, why read it? If I knew that I would have an experience that would result in a broken heart, why pursue it?

It is seeking out the unknown that keeps us feeling alive. It keeps us in this constant and continual state of movement. Had I known where I would be now, and all of the pain life has put me through since moving down here, away from my dearest friends, I might not have even considered the notion at the time. But now, as I look across the lake at where I stood, I can see that although I still struggle (as I am now), I can see just how beautiful and lovely learning really is.

The Lord is good to me.

~C

the whisper.

I wanted movement and not a calm course of existence. I wanted excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for love. Have I allowed such opportunities to brush by me without even a second glance? Perhaps. But it is becoming more apparent to me, that since I cannot rise to a state of being, nor collapse into nothingness, more than ever I have to hear, not merely listen.

In a world that seeks the flawless, my body is a stain,

That with blemish chase the solace, against your thrashing chain.
When into a small space I hide, to gather with the dust,
while in my mind is filled with cries, my bones are left to rust.

Surrounded by the past am drenched, in fleshy rotting skin,
Though this could never mask the stench, of emptiness within.
Amass myself with faceless prey, amongst the lost of men,
as though I'd ne'er been gone away, to him fall once again.


My eyes will never be revealed, nor shall I take a breath,
Until the day my heart is healed, and weakness put to death.
Though to be alone forever, I do not think I'd mind,
If the greedy hands I sever, and wand'ring eyes I blind.

wishing on the sperm of dead plants.

 Happy birthday to me. Well, a few days ago anyways. It really wasn't terrible. I typically dread them because they have a tendency of ending so badly. I spent most of it by myself, really.

 I played with fire.... And scorched my kitchen chairs.

Flowers. Delivered without a name. Mysterious.

 Birtday cake.

After a long weeked -- of both the good, the terrible, the better, and the beautiful -- the sun set. Before I blinked it was over, and time ticked on. Before I knew it, the day that is representative of the day I began my test in life was finished. I don't feel any different -- if you dont count the panic. I am 1/4th dead. I have one arm in my grave. Why did I spend so much of my time wasting away, and worrying about things of so little consequence? Did I do everything I wanted to do? Did I do anything important or influential at all? Did I touch a soul? Did I change a life?

I don't think I did. But hiding under my blankets (as I am now), will probably not change that outlook. Should I make yet another promise to be better only to feel as if I have failed myself once again, or should I make no such promise and feel accomplished when I succeed at being nothing?

~C

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QyVfs5G2uA&feature=relmfu