My heart
races when I
read Scripture,
for it is my heart,
and it has been
found out.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
My heart
races when I
read Scripture,
for it is my heart,
and it has been
found out.
As an ink pen,
you express yourself
in graceful, flowing strokes,
and I, your parchment,
would let you practice
your cursive
until you mastered
every letter.
(And, between letters,
I lament
that the alphabet
has only 26.)
The deeper
beneath the burden
you crawl,
the more
wisdom
you carry out
with you.
When you fall in love
with a monster,
you either become
a monster
or a monster-slayer;
what you cannot do
is remain who you were —
the former version
of yourself
was sacrified
the moment you let
a monster into your heart.
It seems
contrary to my faculty
to craft poetry
that uplifts
a reader,
rather than
pulling her
deeper into
introspection;
but it is likely
that I’m simply
overthinking it.
So, I’ve created a poem
to raise the reader
to heights of joy:
smooth coffee
dogs
radiant sunsets
good music
snow days
chocolate
captivating books
love notes
sandy beaches
inside jokes
new shoes
budding flowers
What simple things bring you joy?
It strikes me that
we should never
be broken
or shaken
by disparaging
words;
either the accusations
are true,
and we, should, therefore,
cherish the enlightenment
and be motivated to effect
interior transformation,
or the accusations
are unfounded,
a symptom of the evil
that plagues the accuser.
When untruths are
leveled against us,
it is only the slanderer
who is made less,
deadened (somehow)
even further.
I edit my work,
but not early
as often
as my work
edits me.
When the reader explores the thousands of pages covered in the magical adventures of Harry Potter, she cannot help but to learn something extraordinary, even if she is as reluctant to embrace lessons as Ron Weasley. Here are some things that I have carried with me long after leaving the Great Hall.
1. Creativity can be more powerful than magic.
Even when you’re crushed, cornered, or conquered, creativity can creep in unnoticed and trounce your oppressors. I’m thinking here about Hermione convincing Professor Umbridge to follow her and Harry deep into the Forbidden Forest, where, much to their chagrin, the Centaurs vanquish Umbridge for them. Harry and company were beaten, bested with no chance of recovery, except that Hermione had so much creativity it proved to be even more impactful than a magical wand.
2. Appearance is without value.
Of course, I would like to argue that I long knew this, but do any of us actually internalize it? What I think is unique about the presentation of appearance in HP is this: the ugly and the outcast are not always good and the attractive, alluring characters are not always bad. In fact, they’re not always anything. Hagrid is an honorable outcast, but Wormtail certainly isn’t. Lockhart is captivating, but craven and self-obsessed. Cedric is both handsome and heroic. Appearance, HP seems to say, is happenstance; character is the stuff of consequence.
3. Age?
Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore effortlessly unite to communicate a revolutionary idea: age is an illusion. So, age isn’t an illusion, exactly, but our understanding of age certainly is. We make two mistakes: we think elder people are superior and we think elder people are inferior. Yes, somehow we make both mistakes at once. We think children or young people are inexperienced fools who contribute nothing worthwhile while also considering elders obsolete. (We somehow find a way to devalue every human.) Harry and Dumbledore lay those mistakes bare. Harry and Dumbledore are two of the greatest, most impressive wizards we encounter — one a child and the other supernaturally advanced in years. It is not one’s rotations around the sun that crafts one’s ability, value, experience, or intellect — it is the composition of his soul.
What has Harry Potter taught you?
Beyond
spider’s silk,
diamonds,
and graphene,
it is the composition
of souls
that is the strongest,
most impenetrable
material,
unrivaled in its
integrity,
indomitable
in its endurance.
I ricochet
between
the feelings of
depravity
— the shame
of seeing God
yet still
choosing myself —
and the majesty
of there ever
being a moment
during which
self-interest
was conquered
at all.
How we
are irredeemable
and redeemed,
all at once.