two hundred. sixteen.

This morning I wanted to finish both the books I've been reading and I've done just that.
One was Toxic Charity [giving to those in need what they could be gaining from their own initiative may well be the kindest way to destroy people.]
and the other was a novel called To The Wedding ["It is strange how the place, where music comes from, changes. Sometimes it enters the body. It no longer comes in through the ears. It takes up residence there. When two bodies dance, this can happen swiftly. What is being played is then heard by the dancers as if it were a recording, a millionth of a second late, of the music already beating in their bodies. With music, hope too enters the body."].
Some good reading.

This week has been so busy. Decorating fever - I am redoing a room in our house and it's become quite involved. On the plus side, the window seat has officially become a window seat, and I've been delighted to find that I am a perfect fit encased within the wooden frame.
It is my new favorite place [nearly in the whole world, but not quite], and I'm so ready to watch the first snowfall from this massive, glorious window.
More perfect fits: a new white dress, a picture in a frame, the smile on her face and the way the sunset held us.

I told Tai yesterday that I keep thinking of being swallowed, and I do. There is a restrained frenzy in certain moments and all I can wildly hope for is to be swallowed whole - by waves, or the sky or the earth.
It's strange.
But it was the first image and the only recurring one that's come to my mind.
[to clarify:: i don't mean swallowed necessarily with a sense of grimness, as if i visualized my death. there's a safety to it - a stillness. like jonah.]

There is change.
Here at the beginning of the summer when we settle into the sweltering heat, ready only for the same for the next several months,
there is change.

There are evenings where all we can hope for is a place to dip our toes in the water.
So Tai and I drove to the nearest body of water, sat on the pier and did just that.

two hundred. fifteen.

I'm still disoriented by the light in the early mornings. My brain is so used to the quiet, darkness of winter dawn. I know just when I've gotten used to this brightness it'll switch back, and I'll be groggy and confused. For now, I wake in a panic. It must be so late! But no, that early morning glow is the sweetest assurance that I have 7 minutes left to lay in a peaceful doze.
The downside to this is that the sun is right in my eyeballs as soon as I open up shop. I force customers to stand in such a way to block the blinding light. They are usually obliging enough, but there are those early morning folks who haven't had their coffee and truly can't comprehend anything quite yet. So I blink furiously and hope that I give them the right change back.

[Such a great thing to remember where I stashed a bar of dark chocolate.]

I have been reading more & writing less.
Working more too - at the coffee shop and here at home. We're moving a few rooms around and packing up millions of books to put them in different places. I could Hulk out at any moment with the strength I've gotten from toting around boxes of books. If you're looking to pick a fight, look elsewhere.

Perfect weather today. I read a bit under a tree. Looked back at my journal and found this from 4.24, just after Arkansas:

I crave the light
so I turn myself out of doors.
I need some space to stretch my arms.
"You look so refreshed," said Joe today.
"I am."
Something about camping and climbing leaves me feeling full
& longing
which is always the best place to be.

Other old journal bits - some of the words aren't mine, just things I wanted to remember:

//Ebbing, I've been swept
down the wrong way.
The water is descending so I'll have to
beat myself bloody
to get back to you.
I should.
But I'm weak & lazy.
And I find myself instead wanting to crawl back
to when we didn't have to be holy.
Just happy.
We just had to make each other laugh.

//And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.
Do not be afraid.


"Too long we have been waiting for one another to begin!... Should such men as we fear? Before the whole world, aye, before the sleepy, lukewarm, faithless, namby-pamby Christian world, we will dare to trust our God, we will venture our all for Him, we will live and we will die for Him, and we will do it with His joy unspeakable singing aloud in our hearts."  -C.T. Studd.

Wondering lately about why all I do with some truths is defend them staunchly when attacked, but then the rest of the time act like they aren't even there. 

Sometimes I read the back of books, and while sitting there, begin to read because it is a book for stillness.
Other times I read the back and the first few lines and tuck it away. It's a train and traveling book. It must read moving and in new places.

[We taught each other to see beauty long ago. Now we find ourselves overwhelmed by it, missing it. Always, I see the hunger in your eyes.]

& what if we stopped asking what would fulfill us?