I am happy. I am happy with my life, with my job, with my (now over a week old) break-up with my first girlfriend, with my books and music and poetry and with my God. I am satisfied with it all, and this feeling has been going for quite a few hours.
If you feel very dissatisfied or upset with your life (as I did in what to me is many weeks ago, but to you is merely a few blog posts down), then I have no advice or help for you, other than to continue seeking God (which you will probably ignore, as I did for so long). But I do want you to know that satisfaction is possible. I have achieved it, though I’m sure life is aiming its guns at my happiness as I type.
But it is possible. You can be happy. No matter what.
Just believe. I know it sounds like a cat poster, but it’s true.
Silence is something we have never experienced.
We think we have, but in reality the same song was always beating just under its surface.
It is a song played with many instruments, and sung with every voice. Every verse is different and the same.
And all of the songs you hear are the little bits of it that escaped through the silence and were heard by human ears, and are played to keep souls alive. Because that’s what that music is. It is the sound always playing behind the veil of reality. This is why all of your dreams, and so many of your tears, are brought up by music. Because it reminds you that the life you live is not the only life you will ever live. It reminds you that there is a veil, and this gives you hope of a greater life than ever before. And it also frustrates and frightens you. Do not be afraid or confused by this. We are an animal made of both flesh and spirit. Duality is our essence.
Oh, and that song that’s always there? That is the song God writes, forever and ever
So silence really is not real. Not at all. There is only one time when silence will come true. Only one time when it ever really exists.
It’s when God steps off of his throne and comes up to you, and says
"Hello, my child. Welcome Home."
Why is it so hard to simply love?
I am upset.
This is why.
I once attended Timothy Ministries, which is a Christian educational program for homeschoolers, which you attend one day out of the week, more if you wish I suppose. And now, even though I am graduated and out of the program, I am still friends with the man who was my teacher longest, a music teacher I’ve always called Mr. G. I am also Facebook friends with him, so every time a group of students who have spent all their time and money perfecting their talent for acting, or music, or creative writing do something amazing, I get a front row Facebook seat to it.
And I’m working with my father as an electrician, because it is the only job I could get. My father, who hates reading, hates most of what I love to read, and who I think genuinely believes the end times are here, and points to everything I love as symbols of Satan’s hold on this world.
Just a little on that note because it makes me angry: I believe in God, and I believe in Satan, but for crying out loud it takes some inward arrogance to act like you’re so certain Armageddon is around the bend.
Anyway, I have always dreamed of writing a novel, and discovering John Green and his wonderful books has certainly not lessened that dream. But I’m afraid.
I’m afraid I made the wrong choices one too many times, procrastinated a little too much, shut too many doors on myself, and now I’m basically doomed to be an electrician working with my preacher father for the rest of my life, every now and then spitting out little bits of poetry on tumblr.
And dammit that is not the kind of life I want. I believe you can make whatever you want out of your life, even though there’s so much that we cannot control. I still have time to write in the evenings, and that is what I intend to do. I won’t let these choices define me anymore than they already have.
But it’s a big thing to do, and it’s frightening, and I just want to know if there’s anyone out there who gets it. I feel alone right now, and despite what a million gospel hymns say, going way down on my knees has not helped. There’s a reason I hate gospel music. Yiruma always seemed more God-like anyway.
Just talk to me if you understand what I’m saying. I need another voice besides mine who knows this, and who knows I’m not crazy.