"hey, little lonely smile girl..."

Sometimes I want to talk about writing. Sometimes I really do.

They told me (they being a room stuffed with amateur writers), that metafiction was little assessed anymore. And little tried. But maybe not out of style. But this isn’t metafiction—so that probably doesn’t apply.

Truth be told, it’s not something I like doing. You get into the specifics of aesthetics and questions that only a reader or writer or someone obsessed with the English language would care to contemplate. For hours on end. Everyday.

But I read my last post, and while I like it, I’m realizing that my artistic obsession with obscurity is really starting to get the better of me. Meaning: it may or may not have meant anything to you. Or, better put, it might have sounded good—but did it really mean anything? (That’s a pulled quote from a friend from a few years ago.) In answer to all of the above: I don’t really know.

When I sit down here (or let’s go broader and say when I grab my camera), I’m not always really looking for something. Something just usually occurs. It’s part of creating I guess.

And yet still, I’ll digress.

Forgive the rhyme scheme, but lately (in definition of what’s posted in previous) all I’m learning is how to be set free. Simply and completely. And if you’re sensing something more in all that’s coming out, then good. It’s probably related to you in some shape or form.

But that’s the daily grind, isn’t it? More than the way I take my coffee or tea—it’s about the daily (being) set free. And starting over. And all of the above.

There’s something about fear in all of this that’s very real. And very pervasive. And very, very silly. I sit here (I live on an island now) in front of a double-paned window and wonder about all the things I’ve passed along the way. About all the bridges I’ve crossed and all the lessons I’ve learned and all the times I’ve jumped in and out too hastily without much regard for what might break.

I have seen, regrettably so, how much several hearts can take.

But you learn to not be afraid anymore. And not need the lessons the world teaches. The ones that say that you haven’t done enough yet to deserve this. Isn’t it so much simpler than that? Shouldn’t it be?

I used to say that if Jesus only came to get us good parking spaces, everything would be free. Don’t dip into my obscurity. I’m saying that Jesus came for much, much more than that. And there’s something about that sneaking word trust that rings so true. He came to give us life, and not as the world teaches. He came to coat everything in (as I used to say love, now I say) Him.

Does all this have to do with you? Sure. Coincidence or no, it’s coming across now, isn’t it?

There’s something in everyone that’s truly ubiquitous to the need of a saving grace. You will not find it in the list of broken things we’re promised by a broken world. Believe me, I’ve looked.

Find me in the present tense: grateful. For in freedom, we hope as it goes. And goes on.

Destinations never known,
But
I’m always there on time.