clenched fist, limp fish

I'm coming to see the importance of living life with an open hand. somewhere between the clenched fist and the limp fish. and that is how I want to approach relationships, too. except the whole thought of "approaching relationships" makes me uneasy, like something real is lost when something intentional is added. I like to be a low pressure zone, but to be low pressure runs the risk of being absolutely useless to anyone.

somewhere between absolute silence and conversational violence. often, I feel inadequate, so I don't say anything. or else that seems like the best course, anyway. I place a lot of value in silence (and sometimes I'm even grateful for the silence of God). silence and speech, both feel inadequate and in the end I can just tell stories. I guess the trouble with stories is that they bring the attention back to you.

I've decided that I want to be happy in the space that I live in next year, and maybe even over the summer. this has nothing to do with the people I'm living with (though obviously I would want to be happy with them, too). I want to enjoy being in the space that I live in, enjoy reading there and playing music and sitting around and hanging out with people. I'm tired of emptiness.

Frederick Buechner wrote, "I find I need to put things into words before I can believe that they are entirely real." When I read that today, I immediately thought of this from the other way: I need to put things into words before I can believe that they are entirely false. I'm finding value in saying what is untrue, what is false, what is disgusting, that to express them may be the way to what is true. confession, if only to God. all the prejudices and jealousies and lusts and angers and blasphemies and the cowardice and weakness. but not just to God, I need this with people too. I need to have the people to say horrible things to who will understand that I don't say them because I think that they are true, but that I say them because I believe them and don't want to. maybe that is why I write.

one night I came back from the kazba and checked my email. In the randomly generated URL on gmail, I noticed the letters G0d strung together. and that is perhaps the best example I can give of how I see God in my life: hidden in codes and strings of useless data, but present nonetheless. God's sneaky. sometimes that pisses me off and sometimes it is what I like best about him.