Spinning Away

It's dusk now and people are drifting past my window. From where I'm perched they appear like butterflies swooping in slow motion in a drunken haze. Alas they aren't really strolling along the path in a daze. Most walk with purpose but all possess the beauty displayed by those creatures who exhibit sleep-inducing motion.

I lie in my bed that practically bursts with plush pillows, cosy duvets and exquisite eiderdowns. I am literally shrouded in feathers and colour. This is where I reign, and I know that that is not a CC (Christianly Correct) thing to have. But this is where I let my guard down and float off into Nevernever Land... I daydream and plot and plan essays, life choices, outfits, meals... So much of my life occurs in my bed. It's a fun place to be.

The dusk has left me and I'm sitting in my bed and suddenly the world does not have the same beautiful golden tinge that tilted my rose coloured glasses further back up my nose. The darkness of the night highlights the stark harsh light of my room. Dust on my window is illuminated.

There was no point to this post. I really didn't know what to say but I find release in writing. When I write I feel like to a certain extent that I am letting someone know what region my heart is sitting at. And then I think that my duty and responsibility to tell someone, keep accountable, is done. People don't comment on posts like these - it doesn't fit with the cheery image of the happy-blogger. It's not religious and it doesn't spout Scripture

Tonight I stared down a cigarette, pushed back a drink, blew away drugs, walked away from a fight, kissed a child, said hello to the moon, visited the fairies and swooped down on delight. Cycles are fun and they will forever continue, turning to the steady beat of the phrase: "This too shall pass".

Rain and Eyes

I love the rain. Within my soul lies a deep adoration that nestles close to my fond fascination for German people confessing their undying love to each other. There is so much variety when it comes to how you like the pouring of water from the sky. If I could 'order' my rain, more or less like from a Starbucks, I'm not sure where I would start. Don't you ever find yourself overwhelmed by amount of choice you have when you go to an ice-cream shop? Well that's what it's like for me when choosing which type of rain I like the most. I shouldn't play favourites... God doesn't like that so much.

I love rain that falls as gently as the type of kiss you would imagine coming from the Father's lips. It's as soft as butterfly kisses with eyelashes from your dad... But there is also steady rain, beating like a drum. Sometimes it feels as though if the beat of the rain stops then my heart will stop and wouldn't that be tragic? I'm sure that that's why God keeps this type of rain at such a steady pace. Of course drizzle is also fun. I love how drizzle coats everything in fine mist, turning the world into the playground of the fairies. When it drizzles I see tiny exquisite ladies pirouetting in the air and all I can do is stop and stare. This is not a good thing to do in the middle of the road, but what can you do? My last favourite type of rain is of the hard as nails variety, usually accompanied by heavy thunder. This rain stops traffic (literally) and forces everyone to acknowledge its presence. I am fairly certain that God uses this type of rain to get our attention, and I must say, it's quite an effective tool. I feel so safe which is paradoxical... It must be because I know who makes it so loud. I find that knowing the source of loud noises is helpful. Less scary this way.

But putting all this aside, one of my main thoughts that capers to mind is the fact that my mood greatly determines which is my favourite rain. At the moment I'm toasty warm and dry in bed and there is a light, soft rain pitter-pattering outside my window. I think that this is why I love soft rain at the moment. This is extremely reminiscent of the 'rose-coloured glasses' theory. My eyes are so prejudiced by my circumstances... It's simply shocking at how my amount of favouritism towards rain types can be influenced by a good cup of tea at the moment. Hehe!

Shades and Shards

Shades of grey come filtering through - it's a different way of looking at the sunlight breaking through the darkness. Shades of grey as opposed to pieces of light. I think it's similar to the story of the pessimist, the optimist and the fullness of a glass - seeing pieces of sunlight break the darkness or seeing shades of grey lingering. Do these shades enhance the light? I read on a comment that I think Verashni Pillay (great gal) made that the "shadow proves the sunshine" so it can't be all bad. Are they?


Lets say that the pieces of light are shards of originality - this is complicated I know but worth putting down onto 'paper'. These shards of originality are what make you essentially you. The rest of you is composed of imposter-darkness and shades and glass. Imposter-darkness is easy enough to work out, but what of the shades and glass? I was thinking about who I am and all that comes with this, such as: how come Abba's Child happened to me? I know this is an exceptionally egocentric way of thinking of it but who I am is very me-centred. This is honesty and is what I call the glass and shades. Shades of who you actually are come through, colouring the shards of originality (the pieces of light) causing them to become brilliant shades of unique individuality. But what about the glass? I thought of glass because it reflects even the smallest amount of light - no matter the colour. Colour is not a variable when considering light reflection. So pretty much any colour that comes with the shards are reflected off of the glass. Do you see why I chose glass AND shades? They are intricately bound together and where the one is the other exists. So the shards of originality are reflected through the glass and the shades colour it appropriately. Mixed somewhere in this is the imposter-darkness, lingering and shuffling around, attempting to block out the shards. In the end it is only waiting for the inevitable eviction. What a futile existence.


This is what I think makes me me. Even with my uniquely constructed imposter, which (lets face it) only allows others to see the real you. Once they can recognise the imposteristic characteristics they see the warts - they see the insecurities that prompted certain constructions (much like the "warts 'n all" theory). And then, whilst you're in the midst of some major deconstructive work, they see you as you are in all your lit-up originality.


This was complicated and I can only wonder what purpose it served... I feel like it was an epiphany and if I can see people as being made in such a complex and complicated as this then God must as well. That wasn't meant negatively, rather, that God spent time making us this special. It proves how much He loves us - He put so much effort into making us full of originality (even if it is only shards for now) and our own shades that are reflected back into the world. Sort of similar to how the shadow proves the sunshine. So are shades of grey that bad?