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Artist and leaf collector. Born in Tennessee and livin' all over.

Daily Life

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    I took this picture in Colorado, and somehow it reminds me of the Holy Spirit. I must be in love because everything reminds me of Him: pictures of grass, sunlight and shadows, crickets, snippets of conversation, a nectarine, a simple breakfast in a quiet house. I really love him and I realized today I don’t know how to describe why. It’s simply that He is the best. Holy Spirit is the best friend, the best listener, the best innovator, the best artist. He is brilliant at everything. I keep catching myself walking around, staring off into the distance with a huge idiotic grin on my face. I feel like that emoji with a big smile and hearts for eyes. Something has definitely come over me, and I’m not sure what it is, but I like it. 

    I took this picture in Colorado, and somehow it reminds me of the Holy Spirit. I must be in love because everything reminds me of Him: pictures of grass, sunlight and shadows, crickets, snippets of conversation, a nectarine, a simple breakfast in a quiet house. I really love him and I realized today I don’t know how to describe why. It’s simply that He is the best. Holy Spirit is the best friend, the best listener, the best innovator, the best artist. He is brilliant at everything. I keep catching myself walking around, staring off into the distance with a huge idiotic grin on my face. I feel like that emoji with a big smile and hearts for eyes. Something has definitely come over me, and I’m not sure what it is, but I like it. 

    Posted on Tuesday, July 22nd 2014

    sometimes.

    sometimes while praying

    i like to speak in haiku

    cuz God likes poems

    and sometimes while driving I like to sing prayers to the tune of bobby darin songs if I can’t think of a tune myself. my favorite song to sing to God is “Beyond the Sea.” Jesus and me, that’s our jam.

    sometimes it’s nice to just turn two chairs towards each other and make a french press and have a coffee with the holy spirit. sometimes I wonder if Jesus drank coffee while he was on the earth. sometimes I wonder if the angels disguise themselves as people to try coffee or ice cream or pickles. 

    one time someone told me I have an insanely fun relationship with God. I get that. Pretty sure it’s because he’s insanely fun. and you tend to look like and dress like and sound like the people you hang out with. that’s why everyone thinks couples tend to look like siblings… they grow alike. I hope that every day I walk with God I look and dress and sound more like him. 

    Posted on Sunday, July 20th 2014

    “Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” -Terry Pratchet

    “Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” -Terry Pratchet

    Posted on Tuesday, July 15th 2014

    Drift logs in Olympic National Forest. The bottom ones looks like one of those hairy mountain sheep things and the middle one looks like a boob and there’s no shame in that.

    Posted on Monday, July 7th 2014

    Jungle life (#junglelife) : (n.), a state of existence which takes place in remote tropical locations, far away from the reach of power lines, phone signals, or running water. minimal luxuries are required, baths are taken publicly and in groups in muddy rivers, with children dangling from tree branches above and laughing down at the chubby, pale bule. dinners are killed unceremoniously in the yard, prepared over gas stoves with the chef wearing a headlamp for visibility’s sake. fried rice and sweet instant coffee packets are the breakfast food of choice. one cannot wake up without being greeted by at least ten pairs of dark brown eyes peeking out from behind a corner. crowds of children, and their dogs and their pigs, form a herd trotting behind you wherever you go, even to go poop in the woods. conversations with the locals consist of tight hugs, shy asian giggles, goofy dance parties, hand holding and high-fives. a little laughter goes a long way. a guitar or watercolor set can mesmerize a village. too-small thatched cabins and narrow wooden bridges strain under the unexpected weight of massive white foreigners. coffee is grown in the backyard and served in small clear glasses: black, syrupy, sugary and full of coarse grounds. no one has all their teeth, but every big toothless grin is pure and beautiful. the air is clear and humid and smells like fruit and dirt and sweaty bodies and leaves in the rain. the jungle way of life is, indeed, more simple and pure than most ways. to see God in the jungle is to see the faces of those who worship him, in wooden huts, in plastic chairs in a cement one-room church building, the farmers’ calloused hands raised, singing low, repeated hallelujahs. 

    Jungle life (#junglelife) : (n.), a state of existence which takes place in remote tropical locations, far away from the reach of power lines, phone signals, or running water. minimal luxuries are required, baths are taken publicly and in groups in muddy rivers, with children dangling from tree branches above and laughing down at the chubby, pale bule. dinners are killed unceremoniously in the yard, prepared over gas stoves with the chef wearing a headlamp for visibility’s sake. fried rice and sweet instant coffee packets are the breakfast food of choice. one cannot wake up without being greeted by at least ten pairs of dark brown eyes peeking out from behind a corner. crowds of children, and their dogs and their pigs, form a herd trotting behind you wherever you go, even to go poop in the woods. conversations with the locals consist of tight hugs, shy asian giggles, goofy dance parties, hand holding and high-fives. a little laughter goes a long way. a guitar or watercolor set can mesmerize a village. too-small thatched cabins and narrow wooden bridges strain under the unexpected weight of massive white foreigners. coffee is grown in the backyard and served in small clear glasses: black, syrupy, sugary and full of coarse grounds. no one has all their teeth, but every big toothless grin is pure and beautiful. the air is clear and humid and smells like fruit and dirt and sweaty bodies and leaves in the rain. the jungle way of life is, indeed, more simple and pure than most ways. to see God in the jungle is to see the faces of those who worship him, in wooden huts, in plastic chairs in a cement one-room church building, the farmers’ calloused hands raised, singing low, repeated hallelujahs. 

    Posted on Friday, June 6th 2014

    Whatever You Do

    "Jesus said whatever you do to the least of these my brothers you’ve done it to me. And this is what I’ve come to think. That if I want to identify fully with Jesus Christ, who I claim to be my Savior and Lord, the best way that I can do that is to identify with the poor. This I know will go against the teachings of all the popular evangelical preachers. But they’re just wrong. They’re not bad, they’re just wrong. Christianity is not about building an absolutely secure little niche in the world where you can live with your perfect little wife and your perfect little children in a beautiful little house where you have no gays or minority groups anywhere near you. Christianity is about learning to love like Jesus loved and Jesus loved the poor and Jesus loved the broken…”

    Rich Mullins

    Posted on Tuesday, June 3rd 2014