Dear Dream of Someone (Letter #9)

This is an excerpt from a current project I'm working on called "Letters to the Dream of Someone". It's about a girl who is writing to her future husband. So, enjoy.
#9
Dear Dream of Someone,
Summer is a good time. Oh boy is summer a good time. I was riding my friend’s bike through my old junior high school on the last day of school, and all I smell was the beautiful strawberries blooming in the west. And possibly the cinnamon bathroom scents they stuff in the porta potties on the blacktop in case of school-plumming issues and for the people that mow the lawn on Fridays, but it all came together forming a familiar mixture of my favorite smell of all time: the smell of summer.
Do you have a favorite smell, Dream? I probably know it by now. That’s something I’d really like to know, it’s important for me. I mean, if you are the “working-father” or even the “stay-home father” I’d like you to be surrounded by your favorite smell at all times so you can go back to a favorite memory of yours anytime you want. That’s what smells do for me. I guess they can take you back to not-so-great memories too, but why would your favorite scent be of something you don’t want to remember?
Can I relate to that in a bit? Somewhat. A few summers ago, wow; maybe five summers ago now actually, my dad was very very sick. Later that Christmas when he was feeling better (praise to God.) he said he was sure he was at the end of his life. But somehow in the midst of all his terrible cries I can never forget if I tried (have you ever heard a man cry? Especially your own father? I can describe it perfectly but I definatley do not want to.), in the midst of all the times I cried because all I could think was “God please oh please heal my father.”, in the midst of all the times my parents would encourage me to go have fun because they want me to of course but also because they did not want me around my father; my mother sat me down on the couch repeating to me “He’s not going to die. You’ve gotta have more faith than that.” And not only that, but even though those twist of events were most intense in that summer five years ago, the scent of summer in my house is STILL my favorite smell.
You just can’t change a person’s favorite smell. Of course, you can add favorite smells, but I don’t know if you can change them. Or at least, you can’t erase the memory a person gets when a certain scent is current.
On a different topic: Dream, I will confess something to you. My family, my house; is not perfect. In fact, it is messy. Yes, it is. The wood floor in my small kitchen is starting to tear and rot because of my leaking refrigerator. The rug of that same house has stains from when I was probably twelve years old. And the countertop is overflowing with dishes and my dad’s vitamins.
But you know what, Dream? My family is perfect to me, and for me. My house is perfect to me, and for me. My mom and I, we just spent a half an hour working on dinner and harmonizing hymns together. I walked across the rotting wood not caring about it at all because I was at peace lying on the support of my mother’s harmonies and melodies. I shoved aside bottles of vitamins and chopped lettuce as my mom and I sang “Amazing Grace”. And everything in the world was right, in that moment. And that moment will continue to keep everything right, when I look back on it and smile, everything will seem right.
You know what, Dream? Nothing is perfect. But that does not mean everything is not right. Everything is right. Every scent we experience, every piece of rotting floor we walk over. Everything is in it’s place for a reason, every person is in their mood for a reason (maybe they need to be a taught a lesson but that in itself is a reason,) every person meets someone else for a reason, my mom and I sang “Amazing Grace” for a reason.
And I wouldn’t change a thing.
I met you for a reason, didn’t I, Dream?
Love, Me

The New Wave (Year)

Happy New Year!

I established last year that the beginning of summer is like the beginning of the new year for me. I'm usually happier in June rather than January, so what are you gonna do?

But it certainly feels that way already, and we're only three days in. Whether my soul is being renewed by screaming random crud at the sky surrounded by your closest friends, or helping out with Jr High at church (yes! it's true!! so exciting), or on the second day of school smiling at the sight of a girl picking a flower.. and thinking how much we could learn from that one.

Summer is also a time of thought, of standing on one side of the reflection. The past few months have been a time of reflecting, seeing what I "missed" out on, looking at the mirror and thinking "dangit. dangit. dangit.", looking at the people standing behind me and seeing that they weren't ALWAYS happy like we all wish and chanting "dangit. dangit. what am I doing wrong now?"

but Summer is standing on another side of the mirror. The one people usually don't see. It's one of those see through mirrors, where you look in the mirror on one side but the other side you can see through the mirror into the person looking in the mirror.



and summer is also the time where I can look through this transparent mirror, and start to be okay with things. happy with them, quite frankly. of course, i continue to dream of how I wish things could be, but you want to the truth? I think i take joy in dreaming so much that when dreams become reality, sometimes it takes the fun out of it.

a poem once stated,

"Are you the shore
and I'm the girl?
In your waves
Should I twirl?
I've yet to see them
In the night
But I hear them crashing
'Til we see night.

It is winter,
I feel like just watching your waves
Behind this raindrop blanketed
Window
For now."

It's not winter right now, but this is how I feel. I love doing, going, loving, doing actions; but in all of these actions, watching and observing. Creating new things to reflect on in the future.

Summer 2011, I have no clue what you have in store for me. What people I will meet. What opprotunities I will have. But I'm ready to watch and act on what is planned.

Chrissy Z

Seventy Eighty Ninety

the day's length is seventy years,
or eighty, if we are strong.
but these days are only trouble and sorrow
because they quickly fly along.

we finish our days with a stretch-ed moan
and this anger built up holds Power.
teach us to number these days aright,
not Simply by minute or hour.

we rise And sing when morning comes,
does this rejoice hoLd some power?
we break liMits thinking how long it will be
'til we reach the minute or hour.

our secret sinS are shown in the light
as trouble spreads over the lands,
as well as that day, like a trying plague
please establish the work of our hands.


90

[cov·et]

Do you have that one friend where you are constantly looking their approval or acceptance?

It dosn't necessarily have to be the case where you say, "He's pressuring me into pot, so I think I'll try some."

This friend can just be anyone, Christian, Muslim, Black, White, Girl, Guy, pastor, king, random hobo you made friends with walking by a stopped train one day.

But you have this friend, you might not know it, but you could possibly have a friend like this. And you are either in one of three stages: the stage where you have no idea what I'm talking about but are blindlessly doing things to try to gain their heart's approval of you, the stage where you are reading this going "...Oh. I might be doing stage one...(well, now you're doing stage two by realizing that.) or stage 3, where you are saying to yourself "ohhh yeah. been there, done that. and now I am..."


and now I am, dot dot dot. What are YOU doing about this friend now? Are you still seeking approval or acceptance? This person is something special to you, maybe romantically, maybe because you really wish you were like them, maybe just because by being accepted by that one person it's your gateway to being accepted by others. Maybe this person makes you feel your most extremes; what I mean by 'extremes' is that they make you feel REALLY happy! or REALLY angry! or REALLY sad! or REALLY confused. but all you know is you want them to LIKE you, and maybe once in a while tell you how much they appreciate you.

now step back. take a look around. just step back from that person for a second and consider this: have you recently brushed or shooed someone's positive comment off? is there that one friend who ALWAYS says "hi, how are you?" while the person who you're trying to gain approval all just glances at you? maybe she/he is doing it in a jokingly way, but you know that there are other people who actually do care about you and appreciate you. and they tell you about it, too...

i've realized we live in a society of coveting. all of America is this way in general. we are spinning backwards trying to get the latest iPhone, "oh wait i thought you just got a new one two months ago?" "well yeah but this new one includes..." dot dot dot. we want things we cannot have.

and yes, God does play a role in all of this. He is constantly giving and giving, and what do we do? "God, i'd like to put in a request for a new iPhone, please." "God, i'd like to put in a request for a new boyfriend, please." "okay God, I know i prayed for a new boyfriend like yesterday and You gave me one but i don't like him that much anymore. i want THAT one."

that is why we want people's approval. because we want what we can't have.

i've learned that patience, time, God, and healing can change that.

Real Music

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_CDLBTJD4M&feature=player_embedded

Bach's Cantata 147, "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring." This, my friends, is real music. Phenominal. I don't even know what to say except maybe with minds like these their is hope after all. Please watch,

all my love
Chrissy Z

My Father and the Coach

We are running a race,
and your a bit ahead
I am stumbling to catch up
to you,
I am spinning in circles
biting my tongue
flapping my arms hoping that
maybe I can fly in the end
to catch up
to you,
thinking maybe if I meet you
at the end of the race
that'll show what I'm really worth,
to not only you but to myself.
when you tell me congratulations
shake my hand, then my brain,
then my heart
that'll show what I'm really worth
to not only you but myself
and for right now you are
a blinded coach,
you don't know you're
coaching me
but the truth is
I don't even know where
or when
this race ends,
I'm just following you.

But in the back
of my mind, there is
a truth
that I know.
My Father said not
to follow other coaches
without His consent.
I've rejected coaches before,
maybe I've rejected you before?
Oh Father,
I don't know if he'll really
coach me correctly,
should I really be
trying to catch up to this
blinded coach?
Do you yearn for me to even
follow after you, oh coach?
Would you capture me
if I tripped on the track
with bruises and scrapes
dripping down my back?

My Father seems to always know the
answers,
and today I asked Him what I should
do, and He told me
dearie, why are you running and stumbling
over your own feet for only the purpose
of catching up?
Don't you know coaches come and go,
and this one may seem very special,
(that's because he is very special),
but he is not the only coach;
one day a coach will come
who actually wants to teach,
to train you.
Maybe this coach will want to someday,
but for now, you can walk it out.
Maybe he'll stop and wait for you,
maybe someone else will come and
yearn to teach you and guide you
to the finish line,
and maybe you'll yearn for him
to teach you too.
But the truth is, my dear;
there is no need to run,
because this life is not even
a race.
Run as if it is! Yes, of course.
But not just to catch up
to other people, not just
to compare yourself to others
and not just to catch up
to others so they can compliment
your technique.
Go at your own pace,
and one day a coach will come after you
instead of vice versa
and encourage you.
This life,
in that sense,
is not a race..

Chasing Only the Skies

Chasing Only the Skies, by yours truly

That song of ours won't stop playing,
'twas my yielding sign to pull over and keep praying.
I come to the stop and close my eyes tightly,
Then I clasp my fingers around eachother lightly.
I see pitch black and not much more,
I never really knew what was ever in store.
I stare out my window after saying some words,
I walk along the trail with the heavy-songed birds.
These people and faces do know my name,
but even I don't know why I'm not the same
As the girl you and everyone else once knew,
Life gets less simpler when I'm aging with you.
Life is a chase, but direction is key;
should I chase you or you chase me?
Sometimes I'd like to believe I can close my eyes
and run anywhere I want, chasing only the skies
and what people believe to be living in them,
and when this life ends, living inside its jem.
Why so quiet when we talk about these things?
Why so emotional when there aren't even stings?
Why so hidden and kept behind?
Why so hidden inside of your mind?
What happened to the spark when we sang songs?
Why so many trips,falls,and wrongs?
Why so beautiful in the end,
Why still yearning to be my friend?
Why so critical, telling me to stop?
Why do we let our hearts stir 'til they POP!
Why do we spend so much of our days
on acting and crying and dying in plays
we think we'll be flipping about for the rest of ever
but right after the play, the script we cannot remember?
Call the answer what you want, some call it sin
some call it fate, some call it human
in the end tis not important what it is called,
it is important into who's arms we will then fall.