Beauty that breathes

The world is a beautiful place

 

My soul lights up at the colours of the trees

and the sunlight pouring down through the leaves

like harp strings made of gold.

Land and sky twist in time,  making music

that only my heart can hear.

 

When my fingers trail through lake water deeper than imaginable,

the Holy Spirit tangles more wildly into my mind and heart.

The way sunflowers run towards the sun despite their roots,

I will myself to become one with the water and one with God in heaven,

despite being made of dust from deep valleys.

 

Though I sometimes wonder how I fit into the beauty of this world,

I can’t help but look at everything else God created;

the world is made up of breathing art pieces,

each it’s own exhibit of the Artist’s endless talent.

 

I feel peace settle into my bones like a much needed sleep,

reminding me that I have the same Creator

and that I too am art to be seen and valued.

 

Passion Tea

Hey friends,
It sucks that you all are so far away
(or maybe not, if you’re in Ottawa lets grab coffee).
I really love sitting with people and hearing about their biggest dreams.
The ones you don’t talk about so often, the ones that matter so much you don’t dare tell people, lest they don’t understand.
I want to invite you into my room,
pour you a cup of tea and sit with you on my couch by the window.
You’re lucky; I don’t clean my room very often but I always try to tidy it for guests.
Today, all the pillows are in place and the plants have been watered and the kettle is on
I want to hear what you’re passionate about.
I want you to explain to me things I probably won’t understand,
the things that make you talk a little too fast and gesture with your hands a little too much.
The things that make your eyes light up
and then keep you up at night, in awe of the beauty and complexity of the world we live in.
Tell me about how plants duplicate their chromosomes,
about how science exposes the miracles of creation
Explain how to find the best lighting for a photograph, how to set up the perfect shot,
to balance reality and creativity
Let me read bits of your soul on paper,
poetry and stories that capture the world and wrangle it into squiggly lines,
tell me how words beg for lined paper homes and pitch tents in old notebooks
Show me how to make a good cup of coffee, latte art and all
Share the secrets of the sky, the constellations and the nebulas;
whisper their stories, as if you lived each legend yourself. You, storyteller of the skies
Explain math to me, not in the way my 3rd grade teacher explained it,
Instead explain how the logic clicking into place explains the subtext of the way the world works together in I way I just don’t see
Tell me how you see colour and make paints and pencils
somehow recreate the world I can touch but never see the way you do,
let me into the exhale you feel when you do what you were created for.
Tell me what makes you feel alive. Tell me what you do to feel most you.
Who are you friend?
What makes you tick?
I only get one life, one set of eyes,
one mind to ponder with.
Let’s chat
and see through each other’s mind for just a little while.
I’ll sip my tea while you talk