Brooke Fraser - Albertine video

A video that reminds us of what's honestly important... listen to the lyrics

3/12/08 12:54 a.m.

"A journalist hounded the French writer, Albert Camus, asking him to explain his work in detail. The author of The Plague refused: "I write, and others can make of it what they will."
But the journalist refused to give in. One afternoon, he managed to find him in a café in Paris.
"Critics say you never take on truly profound themes," said the journalist. "I ask you now: if you had to write a book about society, would you accept the challenge?"
"Of course," replied Camus. "The book would be one hundred pages long. Ninety-nine would be blank, since there is nothing to be said. At the bottom of the hundredth page, I'd write: "man's only duty is to love."

-Original post by Paolo Coelho on a book by Albert Camus

It's almost 1 a.m.
The bewitching hour. Some might say that's midnight, but for me inspiration comes at one. Sometimes I think lessons come at night or early morning, the times when God is really trying to speak to you and you're trying to just rest your body. Your soul doesn't rest though, and in my case, neither body nor soul get tired until around 2 a.m.

What could an existential intellect like Camus know of love, when dedicating himself to find a purpose to life's absurdity. I'm aware in the end, whether he believed in a life after death... he found loving as a final sort of good karma answer, but when we look at the way humans love I kind of wonder if he actual views this answer as suitable. The way we love, with passion, with persistence and in that awe of one another... can be beautiful. But, more beautiful is it when completed by the love of a greater divine to show us the right way to love.

I want to love unselfishly. I want to give of myself to people...truly loving them for who they are without asking for anything in return. Are we truly capable of this? Are we in our own skin, able to realize the definition of love unconditional...loving for the sake of it? I strive for it and fall short every time, I'm more than aware of my flaws. Nevertheless, if Camus was aware of man's duty and he didn't believe in a great architect... how do we know that we're meant to love one another...

It's this moral dilemma that allows me to believe in absolutely in moral absolutes. The idea of one right and one wrong... of a love that surpasses all other loves. Of persevering through hard moments... of trusting another enough to put your heart on the line in every kind of relationship, whether romantic, friendship and familial. In some instances these relationships break into deeper ground than other relationships... ties that bind a friendship and the bonds of family. In the end, we are social creatures, we are meant to love and be together. We do strongly reach like branches of trees to set down roots, but yearn for the days where we weren't all running all over the globe. I guess in the end...this is an ode to all of my dear one's in far away places. Friendships surpass distance, time and situations... I'm trying to hold on to that and grow.

The hard part is to put yourself on the line... and be honest.

*Blog posted on my blog and not in Facebook notes lol. I do need to Facebook detox a little.*
-CG

It's a month and a half later and I mantain this...

Screw the real world...you have a lot more important things to do with your life. Don't let anyone convince you that you cannot follow your dreams...this above all things should be avoided at all costs my dear twenty-somethings, thirty-somethings....whatever. At all turns of life and all changes of life and all moments of twisting, icy, difficulty--get through and move on. He has a greater plan for your life.

Phil. 4:6-7

..."Now you just dig them in front. They have worries, they're counting the miles, they're thinking about where to sleep tonight, how much money for gas, the weather, how they'll get there---and all the time they'll get there anyway, you see. But they need to worry and betray time with urgencies false and otherwise, purely anxious and whiny, their souls won't really be at peace unless they can latch on to an established and proven worry and having once found it they assume facial expressions to fit and go with it, which is you see unhappiness, and all the time it all flies by them and hey know it and that too worries them to no end." ~ On the Road

As always, momentary random thoughts.
-Cristela

Light/ darkness= Not shadows...gray

Light filters through blinds like a one streaming white blanket, I turn around, but I can't get around it, under it...I can see it through my closed eyelids, I can see it reflected on the wall. It's daylight...another day, another doller, another chance and living to the fullest of my ability. I don't really think much when I get up, but I'm been thinking that should change. If there are people in the world that wake up each morning in a daze because they've been given the possibility of living another full day of life, that first breath must be more fragrant then a field of flowers. They've made it, it doesn't matter the weather, the trees, all problems are forgotten...and life is renewed. They feel refreshed just because...because the day is here and they are in it. Why can't I feel like that when I wake up? Why do we choose to do everything we've ever wanted to do only after we find out we have a most limited time to do so. So...I'm going to paint, and I'm going to write...and I'm go to read...and learn and do everything so that once I am back on my feet this was a time that was more then precious--it was worthwhile.

And...I'm finally accepting his grace and taking this as character building, rather then punishment. Read the verse, whether u believe or not...the message is clear isn't it?

Sincerely yours- C

Hebrews 12

1Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

4In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. 5And you have forgotten that word of encouragement that addresses you as sons:
"My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline,
and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,
6because the Lord disciplines those he loves,
and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son."^[a]

7Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father? 8If you are not disciplined (and everyone undergoes discipline), then you are illegitimate children and not true sons. 9Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of our spirits and live! 10Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. 11No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.

12Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. 13"Make level paths for your feet,"^[b] so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.

Another purely selfish note...

"There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your while life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse." -Letter's to a Young Poet, Rilke

While sipping a large Dr. Pepper at a Wendy's in the middle of the affluent retiree neighborhood of Royal Palm Beach I realized something. But, before I can get to the lesson, I'm sure I need to start from the beginning or most reading (unless you know me well) will be utterly confused. A bit of background, I was at Wendy's to be cheered up, as my grandmother's solutions to happiness either include a strong interjection of how "it could be worse..." or food...and of course, nothing cheers you up better then a quarter pound of cholesterol swirling and coagulating in your veins....She meant well though.

We had just come from the doctor. My sports surgeon to be exact; a man, who about a month ago armed with only a microscope and some thread conquered my knee. In a hour and a half, he set me up for a three to six month recovery process: three or four holes in the knee cap, a gash on the right side and a dead man's ligament. It was a necessary surgery, but at the worst time...in preparing for life, I was set out to beginning my ceremonial "flying of the coop." I was ready, restless and as I recklessly attempted to jump the nest-God pressed pause. The man's got style, I give him that.
My hopes for this appointment were simple...I wanted to be off my crutches, off my medication and never see the doctor ever again. In my eyes, it was just enough to ask for I mean, for pete's sake it had been a month already. "It looks real good!, Hmmm, good, good!" super surgeon said as he wiggled my knee one way and then the other. In less than 15 minutes, the appointment I had waited two weeks for was over, and the dear doctor had no good news for me. His checklist was short: range of motion=good, quadriceps strength=good, Bending=good, No excruciating pain=good. Lack of social life=good, Did she pay?=good, good. He said "good" one more time for good measure before he made his exit. I don't know if my frustration was more from his lack of any solid answers or my lack of solid questions. Thoughts rushed through my head, as I was certain I'd be ready to go back to living, surely my youth gave me a secret healing serum that suddenly fixed my knee and gave it super strength...(yes, I've been watching too much television)
Nothing of the sort. Nothing, he told me offered any semblance of possibilities to start my life. Nothing, was going to change. I mentally willed myself not to do what I hated that everyone else did: throw a pity party and invite the whole world. I wanted to go home and lock myself in my room in dramatic Emo flair. I wanted to force my leg to function and force life to fast-forward to show me the end. And, I wanted it to be a happy one.
I'd prayed so much for answers recently, I'd realized there's only one:
"Cast your care on Him for He cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7
In spite of the pain, in spite of being alone, in spite of everything certain and uncertain one thing remains the same...I'm still insured by the man upstairs. This is the only verse that came to mind as I sat looking out the same window in the Wendy's...this is the only truth I can actually reach out for at the moment. It's the only truth I can share right now...the testimony doesn't lie in the experience though, I've learned more about myself, painting, the guitar and life than I have at any other time. In a purely selfish form, I can't feel sorry for myself when life in itself is still a blessing, the fact that I will eventually regain full mobility is still a blessing.
And so, with each trial and tribulation...each day turned night, each physical therapy session and each month passed by without a job, without too many friends and surrounded by my thoughts, worries and fears...I rest in this one truth.

He's got me....You never feel as small as when you look around you, I mean really look around and realize how little our world is, how many people die each day, the pains of old age and the naiveté of youth. A mother picked up her young son and he was really making a fuss in the restaurant; I wondered how often I've appreciated my family for their care in every situation...they were the ones pulling back as I pressed on. And yet, when I got hurt they didn't push me out of the nest. A young couple kissed and held one another close as they ordered a meal, and as much as I am in no rush to rush into love...one day it will be right. The instant something makes you happy doesn't mean that will last...actually, truth be told....it's the sacrifice made of your own happiness for someone else that is the longest flavor of joy.
But, what I want satisfies momentarily, like a simple sugar or chinese food...you're usually hungry in a couple of hours for another quick fix of temporary satisfaction. Whether it be with people, activities, relief from pain...being mentally, emotionally, physically or spiritually handicapped.
And my grandmother, finally walks in....after taking a lifetime in Publix and I hobble out on my crutches...staring down everyone who dares look my way and gawk at my dis-ability.

Bring them Home?

IN MY OPINION
Toy soldiers serve in war against war
Posted on Sun, Aug. 12, 2007

By ANA MENENDEZ
amenendez@MiamiHerald.com
"You may have seen them somewhere around Miami -- tiny plastic toy soldiers enlisted in the war against the war.
''Bring them home!'' says the front of the tag wrapped around the soldier's leg. On the back, the numbers for Senators Bill Nelson and Mel Martinez.
The pacifist toy soldiers are popping up in supermarkets, drug stores and other public places. Call it the Dada protest: It's driven by the hope that war, that most destructive of pursuits, can be halted by a sly creative genius just this side of the absurd.
The campaign, brought here by the Unitarian Universalist Congregation -- http://www.uumia.org/ -- near South Miami, begins its third week today. Already, church members have distributed dozens of soldiers across the county.
Friday morning, I joined Judy Homer on a drop at Dadeland Mall.
NOT FOR THE TIMID
Stealth protesting is not for the shy. Even the most experienced agitator can find herself suddenly caught in a crisis of nerve when, for example, sitting in a parking garage with a paper bag full of mission-bound soldiers.
''I do get nervous, but I won't let it deter me,'' said Homer, 64. ``I like that it's a protest and that it's a peaceful one. I'm an old hippie.''
Within minutes, she was through the doors of Macy's and tucking a soldier between the athletic shoes at a Skechers display.
''We'll see if it's still there when we get back,'' she said, delighted.
Yes, it's legal -- the church checked with lawyers. And, no: no one has complained, though Homer promises to apologize to anyone who is offended.
With most Americans now firmly against the war in Iraq, though, the soldier drops, while they can be nerve-wracking, aren't likely to be dangerous. Homer's advice to the retiring: It gets easier.
One woman who overcame her shyness confided to her: ``I got a total rush!''
Homer headed out of Macy's and toward J.C. Penney. On the way, she propped a soldier on a marble tabletop and another on the counter at a smoothie cart.
The day before, 55 members of the Florida National Guard had returned home. Friday was the funeral for one soldier who didn't. And Homer, without being maudlin, was in a pensive mood: ``I just want this war to end.''
SIMPLE MESSAGE
So do a lot of people. Will the toy soldiers succeed where thousands of war protesters have failed? Staff at the Florida senators' office said they did not field an increase in calls. But the campaign has enormous appeal. It's an example of a tough issue sharpened by simplicity. It also suggests the power of new ways of thinking.
No, college students aren't protesting the way they did in the 1960s, but why can't this quiet way be just as noble? Computers, e-mail and inexpensive printing offer their own modern response to an increasingly mechanized war.
The stealth soldiers also bring something else to this depressing debate: serious whimsy. Years back, a beloved co-conspirator and I blanketed the streets with homemade stickers printed with poetry.
As Homer strolled Dadeland Mall, I got to thinking: What if someone were to buy a pack of toy soldiers? And what if someone were to attach to them, not rational appeals, but lines of verse? Say, perhaps, something from Li Po: So, men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,/ And the generals have accomplished nothing.
It probably wouldn't end the war. Maybe no one would notice. But it'd be one quiet protest, one sliver of beauty against the enormity of sorrow and destruction.
It's absurd. Someone should do it."

Looking towards the future...

I'm optimistic about going back because there's still so much to be done. It's basically all about education and awareness of all issues.