Some thoughts from Vigelandsparken

It is not certain whether we may be creatures like angels or demons, forming into that which we will become in some later existence. What is certain is that we are human now, and here there is both heaven and hell incarnate, and it is up to us to choose which one we would prefer to help build. For if the kingdom of heaven can dwell in the hearts of men, so can the dominion of darkness engulf us as we are. We need but look out into our world and see where evil has spread.

But this is a mischaracterisation of the nature of evil, and as Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite would maintain, evil is truly the absence or corruption of good. For nothing was ever created or formed from evil. Furthermore “all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” And so must we recognize the place we all have in bettering the world.

Do something then. Build up heaven, here and now. Not in defiance of divinity, but in honour of that which we esteem to be – creatures of beauty, creatures of love.

Further Lessons From Brokenness

As I reflect during a time of intense emotion, and resolve what I must do, I contrast what I desire, with the contents of my heart and the ailment of my body. I am now the combination of chance and choice, but mostly the latter. I believe many a thing about what inner strength is, and I am postulating that there is yet another lesson here: brokenness need not be defeat.

I believe that being vulnerable is a sign of emotional strength, and to lay one self bare does take courage; or at least for me, resolve. But to simply do that and let myself be defined by that brokenness is destructive. You do not better yourself in such action, unless it becomes the opportunity for you to fill those gaps. But no useful thing has ever been always under construction. It is built, used and repaired – all for the cycle to begin again.

Another thing: I often think of brokenness like shattered shards of jars of clay. Well perhaps the goal is not to be simply shattered and mended, but to not be a jar. Be malleable, but strong, ready to be crafted into something more than the dust from which you were wrought.

A Man Who Breaks His Own Heart

We move like swing sets
–  Talking Through Glass by Thrice

I write this, knowing full well the story isn’t over, but I suppose in my hearts of hearts, I am expecting the worst. I wonder sometimes how I do this to myself, get involved, dive in, commit myself to something as that is like a wisp of wind. Will it turn into a storm, or fade away with the rest of the air currents? Metaphors aside, I think I know the answers, and I don’t think I’m wrong for doing things the way I do them. Of course I could be, but what’s the point, if one doesn’t have a few principles?

Love – It always comes down to it. I believe it can make you the best you can be. Love will test you, push you to your limits. Love without bounds is passionate, intense, violent even. It’s open, flowing and vulnerable. Love is binding, a feeling, a promise, an emotion, a decision, a duty. Love is what I must do, at all costs. And I might be mad for thinking so, but I would rather give my all, then hold back, reservedly, with fear for my heart. To break it, to mend it… it can be done – and if that process means I will shine a light at least briefly into someone’s life; than it’s worth it. I do not want it to be said of me that I did not love, that I did not try, that I did not give what I had.

There will be pain and suffering, but there will also be beauty. If I give nothing, there will be nothing and I might as well be lost to an empty vastness. Here’s the rub: In all situations, I think love is the best I can do. I think to try as much as possible, although certainly not perfectly, to do something for someone else, give freely, and to extend oneself… its the best I can do. Sometimes, especially when I am weak and broken –  it’s all I can aspire towards.

I readily admit and I say this as a person who finds it difficult, if not impossible to love myself: The purest form of love is to live for someone else, to say that someone’s happiness becomes more important than mine and to enable them to achieve the best they can be, and become the best versions of themselves.

That’s exactly what I’ll try to do. If I can’t catch the wind, I’ll become it.

More Than Dust

“You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of dust.” – Beautiful Things by Gungor

Today (Oct 1st 2015 on original writing) I thought “is it possible that I am a beatuiful thing?” In my heart, I believe I shouldn’t think like that. But why? Why could I not also be a piece of the world that God has created?

Because I believe I haven’t much, or actually value. I am a machine. Either I do as I should or I fail. There shouldn’t be, in my life a reward.

But I believe in love, and I believe that I am a child of God, along with everyone else. I am in conflict with myself – to be good I must do as my faith tells me to, but broken pieces of me think that is bad. I must be different and uncommon.

I’m stupid though, and I think it’s dumb. How can I be different? I think I must listen to my friends. See myself as they see me, or see myself as I see them. What does God want from me? This is also important. Now that I am here, in a new city, what shall I do for my Lord. So many questions, so little answers.

“Du skaper vakre ting, du skaper skaper vakre ting fra støvet” – Beautiful Things by Gungor

I dag (Oct 1. 2015 når skrive jeg dette) jeg tenkte, er det mulig at jeg er vakre ting? I hjerte mi, jeg tro jeg må ikke tenk som dette. Men hvorfor? Hvorfor kan jeg ikke også bli en del av verden om Gud hadde skapt?

Fordi jeg tro jeg har ikke mye, nei… ingen “value.” jeg er en  maskiner. Jeg enten fullført hva jeg burde, eller jeg feil. Der skulle ikke bli, i dette livet min, en “reward.”

Men jeg tro i kjærlighet, og jeg tro jeg er gudsbarna sammen med alle mennesker. Jeg er i konflikt med meg selv – å bli god jeg må gjør som mine tro fortelle meg til. Men brutt deler av meg selv tenkt om det er dårlig. Jeg må være forskjellig og uvanlig.

Jeg er dum. Å tror dette er dum. Hvordan kan jeg bli forskjellig? Jeg synes jeg må lytte til vennene mine. Se meg som de se meg, eller se meg som jeg se dem. Hva vil Gud fra meg? Det er også viktig. Nå om jeg her, i en nye by, hva skal jeg gjør for herren mine? Så mange spørsmål, så litte svarer.