Almost forgot...
As You Like It opens this week at Trinity Western University.
There is a preview performance on Tuesday night for half price and opening night is Wednesday.
The run is Mar. 16-27
Come and enjoy side splitting comedy and a night of Bard!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
I love a man who knows his languages...
tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner- to understand everything is to forgive everything
The phrase my boyfriend keeps gently reciting to me in the midst of my anger and unforgiveness these days. He's right. As per usual. If we knew about and understood everything a person has experienced, we would forgive them everything.
Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner!
Here's to trying...and grace when failing
The phrase my boyfriend keeps gently reciting to me in the midst of my anger and unforgiveness these days. He's right. As per usual. If we knew about and understood everything a person has experienced, we would forgive them everything.
Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner!
Here's to trying...and grace when failing
Sunday, March 7, 2010
You broke me then
You break me now
I stand before you ready to defend my dignity
No need, you do it for me
I am gold, you say, I am pure gold
Oh what you could be if your actions met your words
Oh! what your soul would sing if you listened to the unconventional truth of your future instead of your past.
Do your weary heart a favor and erase the bad memories with me
Put the good ones in your pocket
Save them for later
Don't be happy, don't even think about it
You face says you win, your heart says you lie
I wish you would die.
Epilogue
I've rehearsed it
Over and over
After all that
thinking
All i've come
up with
is
hi.
You break me now
I stand before you ready to defend my dignity
No need, you do it for me
I am gold, you say, I am pure gold
Oh what you could be if your actions met your words
Oh! what your soul would sing if you listened to the unconventional truth of your future instead of your past.
Do your weary heart a favor and erase the bad memories with me
Put the good ones in your pocket
Save them for later
Don't be happy, don't even think about it
You face says you win, your heart says you lie
I wish you would die.
Epilogue
I've rehearsed it
Over and over
After all that
thinking
All i've come
up with
is
hi.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
What brilliant words I have stumbled upon...
No Coward Soul Is Mine
No coward soul is mine
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere
I see Heaven's glories shine
And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear
O God within my breast
Almighty ever-present Deity
Life, that in me hast rest
As I Undying Life, have power in Thee
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts unutterably vain,
Worthless as withered weeds
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thy infinity
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of Immortality
With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears
Though Earth and moon were gone
And suns and universes ceased to be
And thou wert left alone
Every Existence would exist in thee
There is not room for Death
Nor atom that his might could render void
Since thou art Being and Breath
And what thou art may never be destroyed
"Still, let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year and year in gloom and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers, for short life, eternal liberty.
He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars;
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise and change that kill me with desire-
"Desire for nothing known in my maturer years
When joy grew made with awe at counting future tears;
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunderstorm;
"But first a hush of peace, a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast- unuttered harmony
That I could never dream till earth was lost to me.
"Then dawms the Invisible, the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is fone, my inward essence feels-
Its wings are almost free, its home, its harbour found;
Measuring the gulf it stoops and dares the final bound!
"Oh dreadful is the check- intense the agony
When the ear begins to hear and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again,
The soul to feel the flesh and the flesh to feel the chain!
"Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
The more that anguish rack the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of Hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald Death, the vision is divine."
She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering turned to go-
We had no further power to work the captive woe;
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.
Emily Bronte
It says in the notes at the bottom of the page as a footnote to the title, "According to Charlotte Bronte, these are the last lines written by her sister".
I am overcome by this piece of art.
No coward soul is mine
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere
I see Heaven's glories shine
And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear
O God within my breast
Almighty ever-present Deity
Life, that in me hast rest
As I Undying Life, have power in Thee
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts unutterably vain,
Worthless as withered weeds
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thy infinity
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of Immortality
With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears
Though Earth and moon were gone
And suns and universes ceased to be
And thou wert left alone
Every Existence would exist in thee
There is not room for Death
Nor atom that his might could render void
Since thou art Being and Breath
And what thou art may never be destroyed
"Still, let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year and year in gloom and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers, for short life, eternal liberty.
He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars;
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise and change that kill me with desire-
"Desire for nothing known in my maturer years
When joy grew made with awe at counting future tears;
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunderstorm;
"But first a hush of peace, a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast- unuttered harmony
That I could never dream till earth was lost to me.
"Then dawms the Invisible, the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is fone, my inward essence feels-
Its wings are almost free, its home, its harbour found;
Measuring the gulf it stoops and dares the final bound!
"Oh dreadful is the check- intense the agony
When the ear begins to hear and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again,
The soul to feel the flesh and the flesh to feel the chain!
"Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
The more that anguish rack the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of Hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald Death, the vision is divine."
She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering turned to go-
We had no further power to work the captive woe;
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.
Emily Bronte
It says in the notes at the bottom of the page as a footnote to the title, "According to Charlotte Bronte, these are the last lines written by her sister".
I am overcome by this piece of art.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Behold
This is from the Christmas times.
Behold the lamb of God
Behold the still street
The sleeping world awaits me
I run through the air
My lungs get caught in the musty
mother of the night
Fog drips onto my face like dew
No care in the world for the moment
Surprising.
I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
most days.
Not this one
Surely he hath bore our griefs and carried our sorrows.
Am I to love the inconvenient and the annoying?
Is that my purpose?
He was despised, he bore Sorrow
Sorrow pitted deep
in pain and bitterness
Get out. Get out damned spot.
I wrote this while listening to Handel's Messiah
Behold the lamb of God
Behold the still street
The sleeping world awaits me
I run through the air
My lungs get caught in the musty
mother of the night
Fog drips onto my face like dew
No care in the world for the moment
Surprising.
I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
most days.
Not this one
Surely he hath bore our griefs and carried our sorrows.
Am I to love the inconvenient and the annoying?
Is that my purpose?
He was despised, he bore Sorrow
Sorrow pitted deep
in pain and bitterness
Get out. Get out damned spot.
I wrote this while listening to Handel's Messiah
Thursday, January 14, 2010
This is the New Year
"The gracious person loves without worrying about whether the person he loves is worthy of his love. Or perhaps it would be better to say that the gracious person sees what is valuable in the person he loves, and does not worry about whether it is more or less valuable than what could be found in someone else he might have loved."
-Robert Merrihew Adams
I have a hard time loving people. There are just so many unlovable people out there. It is appropriate then, for this convinction of grace to fall upon me this coming year. I can be so cynical, unforgiving, grudge-holding, and let's be honest, just plain hateful sometimes. What is it in us that creates a gentle spirit. A gracious spirit. How do I learn how to live well by reversing my way of thinking?
A large task ahead of me I'm sure.
Read Rilke if you would like to feel good about yourself.
-Robert Merrihew Adams
I have a hard time loving people. There are just so many unlovable people out there. It is appropriate then, for this convinction of grace to fall upon me this coming year. I can be so cynical, unforgiving, grudge-holding, and let's be honest, just plain hateful sometimes. What is it in us that creates a gentle spirit. A gracious spirit. How do I learn how to live well by reversing my way of thinking?
A large task ahead of me I'm sure.
Read Rilke if you would like to feel good about yourself.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
It's that time
Auditions.
I dread them before, I love them during, I hate them after.
I am terrified of being under-prepared, over-prepared beforehand.
I love my ability to be myself in front of people I don't know, to be open with them and make good impressions. I love the adrenaline and competitiveness that I get during an audition.
I hate knowing the results. I hate feeling guilty if I get a role, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that I deserved it, I hate seeing the disappoint in people's faces, I hate being treated differently by friends.
All of this passes in time. I am impatient, the process is different for everyone.
I dread them before, I love them during, I hate them after.
I am terrified of being under-prepared, over-prepared beforehand.
I love my ability to be myself in front of people I don't know, to be open with them and make good impressions. I love the adrenaline and competitiveness that I get during an audition.
I hate knowing the results. I hate feeling guilty if I get a role, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that I deserved it, I hate seeing the disappoint in people's faces, I hate being treated differently by friends.
All of this passes in time. I am impatient, the process is different for everyone.
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