Wasted Words

Pss. 91:2 “I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.”

Wasted Words

Can words ever be wasted? You know, you toss words out into the void and hope they land on virgin ears where they are cherished and utilized to build a house of stone. More times than not they fall to the eyes of the blind where they’re crumpled up and tossed away on the sands of the shore; washed out to sea. Wasted words is what I call them, where you speak and no one listens.

I like to consider myself a very sensitive person. When I read words I take them to my heart and run them earnestly through my system to see where they can be used for the greatest benefit to my being. If I have to switch the words around, I will as long as the strength in the meaning stays the same.

This cancer that has invaded my body is the wakeup call I needed to show me just where in space and time I have wasted portions of my life. If someone says, ‘this is what worked for me’, I try the protocol out to see if it works for me also, if not, I toss it away like everyone else does. Words, on the other hand, they’re of value to me, I wash them down my throat like water quenching my thirst on a hot muggy day.

I remember a time about thirty years ago or so when recycling was a big thing for me. I was informed by recycling paper, plastic, glass, and metals like tin and aluminum could possibly save the world in which we live and help in the destruction of the atmosphere that man has brought upon the earth in rapid succession. Climate change, global warming or whatever they are calling it these days, didn’t happen in a normal progression of time, we sped up the destruction by not caring and our over industrialization.

So when I heard recycling could ‘help’ seal the growing hole in the ozone, I went to it and became a recycle crazy woman. Fast forward thirty years, the hole is growing bigger, many people think recycling is a waste of time, a joke, and a laughing matter. Just this year, after thirty years of trying to save the world, my trash now gets tossed out like everyone else’s, in the dump of the earth. No one else gives a flying fig about the planet, why should I be alone? On some level I feel guilty when witnessing the destruction when I see polar bears vying for life in the arctic waters once home to icebergs but are no more. Shame that my fellow man allows death over the building and saving of a precious ecosystem.

I imagine millennia in time when God spoke to His people and some listened carefully and documented His word to be carried so far in the future that to this day we still read the foundational Words and covenants of a bygone era. As years passed by, all too many people didn’t want those words to shape their houses and shores. Like waste, they were tossed out to sea, now inhabited on barges that circle the globe because no one has room for the bulk of the waste or knows what to do with the magnitude of truth facing them.

Have they wasted words? On a physical level, waste is what it is, excrement that is no longer needed for the production of results. Words, on the other hand, continue on to this day like clay, to be shaped and molded into a beautiful cistern that holds words, thoughts, and the essence of your very being. Language and communication are essential to anyone whether they can see or hear. The human body has the biggest organ on display and that is skin, with it the ability to touch and like a thumbprint, no one is alive today without the innate ability to feel.

Wasted, what is the meaning? I remember a time when I drank booze, I always heard the term wasted, ‘she or he got wasted’. The dictionary defines waste as ‘done to no avail or useless’, That is exactly what humankind has done with everything that we were freely given; wasted pretty much of the essential nutrients that keep us shaped and formed. Look at the world, look at our bodies, all waste that has gone unshaped.

When I wake in the morning and watch the sunrise, whether hidden behind clouds or not I know the Sonrise is always there for me and I ask of Him, Lord, what will you have me write of today? This morning with a heavy heart, He replied, WASTE. 

Whether wasted words, wasted refuse, wasted time, wasted life, I understood through discernment what He was telling me to write about. We have wasted His Word, in essence, we have wasted our world. There is no recycling that is going to save us only what words you listen and adhere to on a minute level. 

As I go on with my day I will hold these words I wrote in my heart and I will pray throughout the day that my words land on someone that can use them and not waste what they are hearing, seeing, touching, feeling. Embrace the momentum of the day with change. Be prepared to change your heart, your mind, your body and your soul. We have limited time that was not given for us to waste.

All of my Praise and Glory goes to Him! 

Pss. 18:2 “The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.”

Mistakes

Pss. 19: 12 “Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.”

I’ve made quite a few mistakes, I’m sure we all have and usually ones that we have to live with the rest of our life, like it or not. Since I began writing, well no, since I began blogging, my paintbrush of mistakes is in vivid color here. I hold nothing back and my truth is my healing place.

Some people deal with their mistakes, some timidly live with them, some take the mistakes they made in life by the horns and wrestle them to the ground and shed them from their life never to be seen or heard from again. 

To me, mistakes we made in our past shouldn’t be forcefully thrown in our face so that we have to live with the pain on a daily basis. Some people don’t deal with their mistakes very well and they live in denial as if the mistake is a joy in their life, never to be admitted as a mistake, but the pain, the pain is so evident when people live in denial. 

One mistake I made, was not getting an abortion at 16 and spending nine agonizing months pregnant only to give birth to a stillborn child whose memory still haunts me to this day, some thirty-odd years later; then marrying the guy at 17 and spending 20 years of my formative life owning up to a pledge I had made more to God than my husband.

Looking back at my mistakes helps me to see God’s hand in shaping me. I was the clay and he was the potter molding me into the woman I am now. I don’t have regrets in the choices I made and some may say I’m in denial but really; the CHOICE was mine, an act of free will that God gave to us all. 

Isa. 64:8 “But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.”

Have you ever lived in a moment of should’ve, could’ve, would’ve? I normally don’t but as flashbacks come back to haunt me, writing about what could’ve been helps me for some odd reason. 

It helps me because with all of the looking back, I see myself exactly where I should be and any amount of changes in what ‘could’ve been’, only changes segments in the here and now. At this juncture, I would not want one thing to change. My pain and my suffering, (that of which no one understands except myself) is what helps me to be non- judgmental to others who are suffering through their own mistakes.

I do believe that our mistakes are little tools in our life that carve out who and what we become. I need to see that living with no regret is where my mind and body is supposed to be at this moment.

Job 19: 4 “And be it indeed that I have erred, mine error remaineth with myself.”

Mistakes should never be used to make people bend to your whim, they should be treated with the soft-skinned hands of a person who has grown and learned from their mistakes. A mistake can be seen as a work of art instead of a hold-over-your-head lifetime of remembrance.

I think what I’m trying to say in short is this: Mistakes are sometimes blessings in disguise. Not that they are rainbows and unicorns and should be seen as such but that they are clay and mistakes are what molded you.

Something's Missing

Deut. 15: [13] And when thou sendest him out free from thee, thou shalt not let him go away empty:

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Did you ever get the feeling that there is something missing in your life? Have you ever read an incomplete sentence and wondered, “What’s missing?”

I’ve been reading lately about modifiers, clauses, conjunctive something or other and cumulative what’s its. Does any of that make sense? I didn’t think so, there is something missing. Oh, natural flow and form.

I form a sentence with no thought in mind of how it is structured, or if I’ve placed the modifier there, is the adjective where it is suppose to be, the verb, oh dear, how about the noun? There just seems to be an empty space there when I do that.

I’m a writer and what I write is off the top of my head as I think a thought. There we go, maybe I shouldn’t be studying about the sentence and its structure, maybe I should be thinking about the way I write and speak.

I love philosophy and I can learn a lot about writing from the great philosophers, just as much as the great writing teachers of the world. But I can not grasp the concept of dissecting my writing, cutting it down and picking out a conjunctive clause. A generative what, an aural what? Others may remember independent and dependent clauses, prepositional phrases, and how to diagram them, but not me. This is not me!

If you want to be a writer, this is what is in your arsenal of language and writing skills, but again, there is something missing. A point to be made? I’m missing the point.

You mean to tell me if I can get all of this crammed into my brain, it will make me a better writer? If I practice these skills, will my words become aural and not verbal? Will I then take people down a yellow brick road and deliver them to the great and all powerful Oz?

What?

Oz was nothing but some short man hiding behind a curtain, threatening the dickens out of innocent people and a DOG! Why would I do that? Lead you to the Wizard of Oz? I’ll tell you why. If you remember, Oz led Dorothy home. She had many a conflict, abounded in aromas, poetic muse filled the screen with a play on words, prose and otherwise. I remember the screen going from black and white, to vivid color!

I get it now! Your writing will go from dreary black and white to being full of color and magic and with all of this new arsenal in your backpack of writing skills, you too, can bring home what you were missing all along, the point!

Writing from the Spirit

Genesis 37: 24 And they took him, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was empty, there was no water in it.
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Truth in poetic form or any form is the only way to write. When I write poetry I feel as if a small surge of energy flows through my veins. I can sense it moving until it reaches my fingertips and urges me to write.

This is what writing should feel like to you. When you sit down to write, if you’re not feeling the surge of the spirit, you will not only write gibberish, you’ll put up a brick wall and you won’t be able to write anything.

When sitting down to write, clear your mind of all of the outside distractions. This is probably the hardest part in writing and that is finding the quiet space and time to get things down on paper. Having access to a computer helps but remember the pen and paper was around before the keyboard.

Writing from the depths of your being is what writing is all about. Does it matter if you write in a POV that people like? Well I have to say, write what YOU like. If it feels like the poetic style that you are accustomed to writing is calling you to jot something down, then by all means write what is in your heart and don’t worry what other people are going to say or think.

Sometimes I think you can get to caught up in bringing perfection to the table when we all know the tablecloth has a stain from last Christmas. What does that mean? Nothing is perfect! We can’t expect to ever be perfect in our writing, our views, what we say, or what we do for that matter. Life holds high expectations and writers are not exempt from feeling the need to be arbitrarily stagnant.

We have high hopes, we need compelling reasons why we aren’t where we think we should be, we need affirmation, we need a pat on the back. Yes, we’re needy. Admit it.
But this does not mean we are perfect. I myself don’t strive for perfection because I know it is an illusion that can never be. In my writing, the same holds true. There is no perfect place that says, you’re done.

Strive to be better, yes. Learn all you can, yes. But feel the need to be perfect? Never.

Believe in yourself. Just be!