Half-hearted Creatures

“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”


>C. S. Lewis

The Woman

“During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: “What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?”

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.

“Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say “hello.”

I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.”



From ‘fly not yet’

Fly not yet! the fount that played,

In times of old, through Ammon’s shade,

Though icy cold by day it ran,

Yet still, like sounds of mirth, began

To burn when night was near;

And thus should woman’s heart and looks

At noon be cold as winter brooks,

Nor kindle till the night, returning,

Brings their genial hour for burning.

O! stay-O! stay –

When did morning ever break

And find such beaming eyes awake

And those that sparkle here!

>Thomas Moore

I wonder how it could have felt to be the Muse of such an attention.

I found this poem in a chocolate bar. I love it.

I post in which I first start waiting eagerly for something else.

I’ve had a quote running through my mind for the past few days:

“The region where there is only life, and all that is not music is silence.”

I was pondering this to my self on a walk home, letting it roll off of my tongue a times (I often I forget that people can, and do, see me when I talk to myself in public areas). I was wondering is that sentence could be true.

One of my biggest areas  of growth, and struggle, has been with my tongue. Knowing that my heart is revealed by my tongue terrified me. Terrifies me. At times I’ve felt words slip out of my throat like cockroaches through a splintered, shadowed and parched ground. I felt ugly, and I was ugly, and I was making the world around me ugly. One word, a suggestion of a word, has been the shovel of my pit. I’ve set words free from my heart that I immediately have tried to pull back, but seed of those kind always find a home and germinate. I have so many regrets and so many fears every day that I walk this earth. And the only way I can cope it to not speak, but pray first. It is only after speaking to the one who created my mouth that I find peace. I hate my mouth. I hate my tongue.

Back to the walk, and the quote.

I could barely imagine. The Tongue, something that has failed to be controlled or bridled since the birth of man, producing music. The quote is speaking of Heaven, of course. Walking home that day, I imagined a world were everything that came out of my mouth was good and pure and righteous and music. And everything that isn’t those things is silent.


Everything that would come from my lips would be God glorifying, perfect, necessary and worth hearing. I would not need to fear opening my mouth, because I would have no fear of regret.

And it was in this small moment of contemplation that I grew more excited than I ever have been. for Heaven. For Home. Of course I didn’t understand it in so many words as I have presented now. But truth can be known and experienced in the briefest of moments, and I had mine. I want to go to Heaven.

I want to sing.