Soliloquize: dimensions

Filed Under (Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 03-09-2010

Ten thousand years of distance fall between yourself and I.
As gallons of humanity wash past a lowered sky.
And half the miles pass while half are dashed against the hours,
And the distant storm is kinder than earth’s new virtual powers.
I belong to far away, nine decimals at best.
I belong to miles of days, and weary hearts can’t rest.
You cannot hear my empty voice across acres of years.
So words descend to carpet grass while all technology leers.

Soliloquize: a buttonless atmosphere

Filed Under (Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 02-09-2010

There were button-holes in the clouds today. But no buttons came through, no chunky red ones with twin eyes peering, no monolith plastic daisies, not even shining, golden doubloons hanging by a fraying thread and threatening to come smiling, smashing down. All I could see was blue. But maybe… maybe I was on the wrong side of the garment. Maybe, on the other side, the stars were wondering why they didn’t see buttons peeking through the holes and securing the earth’s cloud-studded coat around her rotund sides.

Soliloquize: influence

Filed Under (Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 01-09-2010

Walk across, no, skip across, no, dance across a varnished floor
because of vehement passion or a whimsical thought, or curiosity, or…..
And where you step, the floor will bloom proverbially
to better embrace your gasping life (your life which is too alive for earth’s current amount of oxygen).
You may open your drawer of melancholy… or your cabinet stuffed with mischief… or feel under your bed for that extra song…
and it will all become you. Can’t you see…
As the floor extends its genuflections, and the walls bend toward your magnetic heart,
You make the oxygen fresher
You sprinkle the world (i’ll help you flood it)
With bouncyponderingbrilliantlythoughtfulglorious joy.

Soliloquize: glimmers

Filed Under (Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 31-08-2010

Fingers burn
Memories churn
Strings call
Doors fall
Beginnings end
Chords bend
Realities pass
(silver glass)
Voices bleed
Colossal need
Patience wanes
Strength remains
Details hold
Phrases mold
Stars breathe
Faces wreath
Acronyms fly
Say goodbye
Crimson pales
Unicorn tales
Emeralds leap
Secrets keep

Soliloquize: hummingbirds

Filed Under (Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 31-08-2010

If I was a hummingbird, I could fly right through a wire fence.

And make up the most incredible wing-hand-shakes.

Perhaps there could be a hummingbird orchestra. We would harmonize our different hum tones. I wonder who would direct it… maybe a bigger bird like a Cardinal. I wonder if there’s a Pope of the Cardinals..?

If I was a hummingbird, I would drink the dew off the dandelions and make faces at the squirrels. (And if you were a hummingbird too, I promise that I would share the sugar-water.)

Soliloquize: a series

Filed Under (Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 30-08-2010

While you continue in buoyant and careless metre, scattering a poem beneath your feet,
sheltering weary laughter,
and rhyming all the cares of the world….
What knowledge can be found in your ruby heart of legend long-buried,
or songs sung in whispers,
or forgotten monotone fears?

[Are words not felicitous?]

Readers of this blog should prepare themselves for an impending small deluge of short and possibly ambiguous posts.

Review: Hurtling Toward Oblivion

Filed Under (Reflections, Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 17-08-2010

Hurtling Toward Oblivion by Richard A. Swenson, MD

What: The subtitle of this 130-page book is ‘A Logical Argument for the End of the Age’. And the difference between this and many other end times books, is that this one is, in fact, logical. By using abstract arguments that most anyone can follow, Dr. Swenson expounds a theory which is, in hindsight, obvious. But for those who have acquired the (often warranted) habit of disregarding all predictions of the ‘end’, it will be a rather energetic eye-opener. Dr. Swenson’s main arguments spring from the concept of progress and profusion. Since the earth is fallen, he says, everything good must therefore contain some particle of bad. And as progress leads to profusion of ‘good’ things, the particles of bad increase and increase. He claims that, although the number of good things may never be overcome by the number of bad, there comes a point when there’s enough bad to render the good useless. He calls this the threshold of lethality… and gives a number of examples to show that eventually, our techologically advanced system will simply destroy itself.

Who: Swenson isn’t necessarily talking about an ‘end of the entire physical earth’ catastrophy. Rather, he points to the inevitability of the world’s economy and integrated system of life crumbling on itself. This will effect everyone, since society is so meshed together. As we saw in the recent U.S. economy crisis, one misstep of one company can throw the entire world into disarray. And the danger is that at some point, this will happen and be beyond the aid of a government bailout, where everyone will be forced to band with their neighbors and dig their way out of the ruins of a self-desecrated sea of Walmarts, Best Buys, dentist offices, banks, food distribution factories, and even *gasp* Mcdonalds.

Where: It’s like Owl said to Bambi and Thumber and Flower after he explained the strange behavior of a certain pair of birds: “It could happen to you! And you! And yes… it could even happen to you.” The three friends walked away, determined to never let it happen to them… and guess what.

When: One of the strengths about Swenson’s theory is that he never pins it down with dates. There’ve been people for ages trying to predict the time of the end of all the ages, and they’ve watched their doomsday dates fly by with nothing resembling even a whiff of brimstone. There was 6/6/06, for example. We have yet to see whether the movie 2012 was right, but if it’s not (which is rather likely…), a bunch of people are going wake up on New Year’s Day, 2013, and watch the movie and laugh. However, even though we, like Christ, cannot tell the day and the time, it is certain that it is coming and coming soon. Therefore…

Why: “We gotta live like we’re dyin’!” Basically. Dr. Swenson doesn’t advise everyone to buy a bomb shelter and freeze dried food. But there IS something to being prepared, even if we can’t be fully ready. For example, my family recently moved out to 27 acres of country soil. And one of our reasons for doing this was the current instability of the world. We’re not canning all our food and burrying it in an underground cellar. But we’re learning to live more independently. Reading Dr. Swenson’s book will set you thinking about what YOU should do to be responsible in these uncertain times. Sometimes the most important thing you can do is solidify your relationships. Or buy gold. Or [you fill in the blank]. Regardless of the tack you take, it’s better to be aware than to be

Hurtling Toward Oblivion, by Richard A. Swenson.

Because You Dance

Filed Under (Writing) by Grace Einkauf on 12-08-2010

I found this on my computer from February 8 of this year. I find it every so often, and revisiting it always makes me rather content, because I like it, and I like that I wrote it. The good things I write sort of make up for the bad ones. As the Chinese proverb says; one joy scatters a hundred griefs. This little poem portrays the undercurrent of true joy that eventually overcomes trials (with help from ice cream).


I can just watch you whirl
Across the ages of chocolate swirl.
Armed with all it takes
To eat it all, the tubs and lakes.
But as you run right through,
You leave no mess of plastic spoons.
But rainbow sherbet light
Laughs in your wake with all its might.

My feet don’t dance your dance.
But my eyes waltz to meet your glance.
I’m happy all the same
While I confront my own first name
And twirl on reams of glass
And smile at you as we pass.
You don’t belong to me.
But you are there, and I feel free
Because you dance.

[This post goes with my last one. I should do a series. =P And, in case anyone was wondering, the title of the previous post was indeed inspired by this poem. :) You should be proud of me for posting so soon after that. And I have another post on the line... so it's like my blog goes through a period of impersonating a barren desert, and then there's a flood. You might say I should use a regular schedule... but I don't really care what you say about that, much as I care about you!! ;) ]

‘Arm Yourself With Plastic Spoons…’

Filed Under (Goings on) by Grace Einkauf on 06-08-2010

I went to the most WIZARD frozen yogurt establishment on Wednesday. For example: there was this decorated wall. As in, there were things glued and grouted to it. Like tiles. Only they weren’t mostly tiles, but random thrift-store-fabulous finds, like cutlery (I almost spelled that as ‘cultery’ and was all like, what…??) and plastic fish and pineapple bowls and money and a BIG RED BUTTON (push to end the world. I did, and it didn’t work.) and basically anything wonderful and random and glue-to-a-wall-able.

and there were these decorated tables. The most lucky people in the world had pasted magazine clippings (like pictures of skydivers!) and movie tickets and puzzle pieces and random phrases (‘but I digress’) and old-fashioned keys and such. And there was this perfect clear plastic covering over everything, making it completely smooth and sealing in the awesomeness. (wouldn’t it be nice if we could laminate ourselves?? I mean… not really.)

and there were mismatched chairs.

and on another wall there were a ridiculous TON of cds hung by wire and all overlapping.

and there was a tinkly chandelier over the cash register.

and mirrors framed with a myriad of colorful and gnarly bottle-caps.

oh, yeah… the yogurt (I always want to spell that the British way… ‘yoghurt’. it looks intense) was really good too. It worked serve-yourself-style, and they weighed it at the end.

So I’ll take you there someday. ♥ I suppose if I were to make this post more meaningful, I’d just assert that we should ALWAYS rejoice in the little amazing and random things, instead of acting apathetic. MEMO: apathy is unattractive.

…several minutes and too many words for one Facebook wall-post later (this whole post is minimally modified from something I posted on a friend’s Facebook wall in two parts =P), I’m done now.

Understanding

Filed Under (Reflections) by Grace Einkauf on 18-07-2010

I was talking to God last night. This isn’t along the lines of my regular posts, but it hit me like… a cantaloupe in the stomach or something, and I just felt led to share it. Of course it’s hard to re-create what was obviously not a tangible conversation, just back-and-forth thoughts.

Me: God, can you please, just give me some encouragment? I’m sorry to ask, but all of me is at half-mast tonight.
God: *shows me the lighthouse on my desktop background*
Me: But that’s so impersonal.
God: Every wave that was captured and frozen on camera was for you.
Me: But not only me.
God: Only you, and only each other person who saw them.
Me: But you know I wish for encouragement from people, people whose approval I crave.
God: You wish for that more than MY approval?
Me: I knew you’d say that. …I’m sorry. But it’s so difficult to be two people at once- myself, and the person I choose to show…. And it never really works. I always try to wear a mask to soften my piercing emotions, but no one ever seems satisfied with that mask… and even less with my UN-masked self. I know YOU care… I wish more people understood.
God: I do care: hear that film music in the background? I caused that to be written for you.
Me: *a sigh and the twinge of a smile*
God: So… you want someone to understand you.
Me: Yes!
God: If someone did, if someone knew all your expressions and what they meant, if they understood all your secret fears and prayers… would you keep casting all your cares upon Me?

I realized I was caught.

Me: …..no, I wouldn’t.
God: *gently* Grace, no one will ever understand.

I hung my head a moment. I knew He was right. What if there WAS someone who could penetrate my soul? Would I want that comfort if I knew it would ultimately result in God’s singular comfort fading out of my life? I came to understand why He withholds this from me. And I not only became resolved– I praised Him for it. He was very gentle. “But I will always understand,” He assured me quietly, while He showed me again His signature on the lighthouse, on the woods around our house, on the faces of those around me, and on my own body and heart. Part of me still wishes for that human comfort I had craved. But the knowledge that it will never come in perfection, and the thankful awareness that something better is already mine… somehow makes the deprivation easier to bear.