<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:36:56.553-07:00</updated><category term='vent'/><title type='text'>Whispers and Dreams</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-3645361557038096425</id><published>2009-02-02T21:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T21:36:28.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Take</title><content type='html'>take me and see&lt;br /&gt;how wandering eyes and coarse hands&lt;br /&gt;do ride and fall like rushing waves&lt;br /&gt;and in accelerated ecstasy&lt;br /&gt;we shall kiss today and leave a new way&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-3645361557038096425?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3645361557038096425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=3645361557038096425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3645361557038096425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3645361557038096425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2009/02/take.html' title='Take'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-953215015697209822</id><published>2009-01-31T16:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T17:07:18.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>3</title><content type='html'>winds come, a change,&lt;br /&gt;and men with their crimson cheeks&lt;br /&gt;chuckle with their bellies full&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some dogs starve with flea infested mange&lt;br /&gt;and never see past garbage can peeks&lt;br /&gt;losing their gender in pools of drool&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;The preacher drew upon the acts&lt;br /&gt;but his words dulled the fire burning on my tongue&lt;br /&gt;where's the interpretation that Luke promised me&lt;br /&gt;wait, it's with the man who sits scared on the pew&lt;br /&gt;twiddling his thumbs refusing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;self righteous bastard looking crisp, clean, fresh alabaster staining his palms&lt;br /&gt;but this is not my Jesus&lt;br /&gt;then why do they bow&lt;br /&gt;other than to make men woo and wow&lt;br /&gt;the show, the show, the show must go on&lt;br /&gt;so why do we wonder why faith is all gone&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;the pool is blue with streams of dull light&lt;br /&gt;and with transparent tentacles they swim in the night&lt;br /&gt;to the back, to the front&lt;br /&gt;with wings of a butterfly and the breadth of the breast&lt;br /&gt;their silhouettes cast shadows unlike the rest&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-953215015697209822?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/953215015697209822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=953215015697209822' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/953215015697209822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/953215015697209822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2009/01/3.html' title='3'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-867429359013162628</id><published>2009-01-27T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T11:50:37.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>on machines</title><content type='html'>I saw the metal giants moving through the earth&lt;br /&gt;their joints striking like match to kindling&lt;br /&gt;electric blue jetting through circuit and breaker&lt;br /&gt;and loss they ran through forest and jungle&lt;br /&gt;upturning the blades, shadowing the green&lt;br /&gt;they rose and rose like towering suns&lt;br /&gt;blotting out all that we once new&lt;br /&gt;the future they were &lt;br /&gt;Their massive structures take the place of hill and dale&lt;br /&gt;for up and up they keep on growing&lt;br /&gt;like wild kudzu after a long nights sleep&lt;br /&gt;though I run to get away&lt;br /&gt;they have fallen into each other spiking the ground&lt;br /&gt;metal to earth&lt;br /&gt;and deep into the flesh they fuse with the heal&lt;br /&gt;this is the existence of a man of industry&lt;br /&gt;one tied to the title of steel&lt;br /&gt;there's no intellect, no dialects&lt;br /&gt;only the binary rambling of wire to bite&lt;br /&gt;their might is marked by numbers&lt;br /&gt;which whirl and spin up and down&lt;br /&gt;molding smiles and frowns with their dance&lt;br /&gt;rhyming ceases and so deceases&lt;br /&gt;and myths and themes join the files in three inch rems&lt;br /&gt;the students study then forget&lt;br /&gt;knowing nothing and changing nothing&lt;br /&gt;but keeping it in the same pendulum motion&lt;br /&gt;back and forth&lt;br /&gt;motion&lt;br /&gt;now I look I see their faces&lt;br /&gt;machine faces&lt;br /&gt;blinking, breathing but taking nothing in&lt;br /&gt;they do to do&lt;br /&gt;uprising&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-867429359013162628?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/867429359013162628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=867429359013162628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/867429359013162628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/867429359013162628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2009/01/on-machines.html' title='on machines'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-3481058303192734218</id><published>2009-01-17T11:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T11:49:40.154-08:00</updated><title type='text'>learning to cope</title><content type='html'>We are not meant to receive everything we desire.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;There are somethings I have to write so they can be extracted, like a splinter from the flesh.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I struggle with this concept of unfulfilled desire. I am very passionate; and when I see something and make up my mind that I want it, then I proceed with all my faculties tied in. It is a quality that is quite admirable but also quite disastrous at times. I tend to engage in something and either make it an idol or allow it to eclipse my individuality. Then usually in a pathetic withered state I drag myself out of its shadow and have to recuperate.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I am not quite saying what I want to in this blog. There are somethings you go through that plagues your thoughts and your heart. It sits like a weight in water and breaks the rheumatic flow of the current of life as it passes around you. You have to wait till it is buried within the silt of your memories; however, it is that in between time that really makes you struggle. Whenever something shines on it, a familiar setting, certain music, people, or shows, it reminds you of that deformity sitting in you. Others will never see it, few will encounter it, however it never leaves. Even at times when we think it is completely buried, something happens that pulls it back up to the surface and then the pain comes flowing back again.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I grew somewhat bitter about this and began to grow somewhat cynical with the Lord. I am not sure why men do that, but all good things receive persecution because they are the only things that can carry the burden of it and not be affected. However, my monologues with the Lord led to a different understanding about things. I previously wrote about being the blind man and God being the eyes that guide. That came during this time of struggle. I think I have to feel things to remind me of who I am. When my desire is bashed against the rocks that's when I can reassess and truly figure out what through Christ works best for me.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;So I am learning to cope. It's bearable but not fun. I am sick of writing about this and feeling this but as long as it is here then I have to experience it. Most of my writings lately have been about this concept of unreciprocated wishes and the results of them, but it is something that takes time to work through. I have to rewire myself, my thinking, my feelings. I can feel myself slowly unplugging but there is still hope resting within me that causes the process to drag and drift. One day I will wake up and the wires will be pulled and plugged in something else, and I will be able to carry on, but that day is not now and it won't be tommorrow. Rather, it exists within the confines of the future; and if the Lord so desires for me to see those days, then I will. But to you faithful readers thank you for listening and flattering my notes. It is because of you that it is bearable, knowing that I am heard. My notes will be the same probably for sometime until I can process myself through this rehabilitation. So thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-3481058303192734218?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3481058303192734218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=3481058303192734218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3481058303192734218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3481058303192734218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2009/01/learning-to-cope.html' title='learning to cope'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-2698669554703959</id><published>2009-01-15T10:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T10:26:37.097-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Being Prepared</title><content type='html'>Life has a way of shrinking and forcing things together in ways that one would never believe. Sitting through my classes this becomes so apparent. I watch how people I thought I would never encounter or have wanted not to encounter become crammed into the nooks and corners of my studies. However, I experienced something yesterday that can only be marked by the divine providence of our Lord.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I prayed. Not just a "rub dub thanks for the grub" kind of prayer, but I felt the spirit come and usher me into a state of reverence before God, and with whispering words I began to converse with my father through praise and thanksgiving. I focused my mind off the music, and off the beautiful sky, and I just talked to the Lord. Now I am not saying that God spoke back in an audible voice, no I don't think he spoke in a way that I, as a man, could understand; but none the less, we spent genuine time together.&lt;br /&gt;In my prayers I gave thanks to the Lord for his peace, and for his providence. For the Lord has taken me and produced something. He has produced a living, breathing, flesh and bone, vessel, and for that I am thankful.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;After I prayed, I made my way to my desk and sat down kind of staring at the wood. My thoughts kind of floated through my mind and lightly rattled against my consciousness. I opened one of my drawers and thumbed through its contents. As I flipped page after page, I came to a letter I had written a while back. I didn't mail it to the person I had written it to, rather I had forgotten about it within my note book. I read through it to see what I had said and realized why I hadn't sent it. I wrote it to clean out my worry and doubt about the person. I am a thinker; and as a thinker, things can pile up in my brain and I have to extricate my thoughts so that I can function. This letter was the culmination of a lot of thought and worry yet it had been the source which allowed me to free my mind of those burdens as well. As I read it, I was reassured about it and about the person it was invisibly addressed to. So I slide it back into the drawer and thought about a verse that I had been reading about lately.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;Psalms 37:25, 26&lt;br /&gt;"I have been young, and now am old; Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his descendants begging bread. He is ever merciful, and lends; and his descendants are blessed."&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;What a phenomenal promise! Being reassured, I felt prepared to take on the day. I felt prepared to take on anything that would come my way.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;The next day came classes and their sneaky surprises. I encountered an experience that I thought had been completely and totally buried. Shocked and more is all I can say about the way I felt. I couldn't believe that I was going to have to endure the burden of another semester as it seemed I was going to have to. However, the Lord prepared me in a way that I did not understand. You see though I may have to go through another experience of tumultuous, I use this in the sense of superlative language, awkwardness, the Lord has prepared me for it. He has revealed through his word that I will not be forsaken, and that as long as I pursue him I have victory. I have victory over this situation. I have righteousness and nothing can come against that.  So I am not going to try to fix things on my own, and I am going to walk as the Lord has written that I should. I am going to follow as close to righteousness as I can and that my friend is all any of us can do.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;We walk through this world as blind men and women trying to feel their way an existence. God is the seeing and when we take his hand and let  him clear our steps, then and only then will we be brought to a place where we can truly be free to exist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-2698669554703959?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2698669554703959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=2698669554703959' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2698669554703959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2698669554703959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2009/01/being-prepared.html' title='Being Prepared'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-3646253552240532528</id><published>2009-01-09T20:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:15:59.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hosea 2:16</title><content type='html'>My knees are bowed before my idols&lt;br /&gt;and I hear my words uttering their empty hymnals&lt;br /&gt;My lips curling out their words with desperate need&lt;br /&gt;kissing, kneeling, pleading&lt;br /&gt;"I need you to make me"&lt;br /&gt;I cry with solemn desperation&lt;br /&gt;"to feed me, cloth me, unleash my desire"&lt;br /&gt;but they have no ears for which to hear&lt;br /&gt;and so I shake and quiver in fear&lt;br /&gt;for alone I stand before my gods&lt;br /&gt;with no hand which I may hold,&lt;br /&gt;alone and naked,&lt;br /&gt;bare to bone&lt;br /&gt;"Where are you Jay."&lt;br /&gt;I hear the words float along with sweetening reprise&lt;br /&gt;"for you have fallen from my way."&lt;br /&gt;now I raise my head and look&lt;br /&gt;to see the face I have shunned&lt;br /&gt;to see a love that I have snubbed&lt;br /&gt;and there he stand palms held out&lt;br /&gt;Crimson blood pouring out&lt;br /&gt;and then I look back at my gods&lt;br /&gt;and see a face of no regard&lt;br /&gt;so i rise and go to Him&lt;br /&gt;He who stands bleeding&lt;br /&gt;He who stand living and real&lt;br /&gt;my heavenly husband&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-3646253552240532528?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3646253552240532528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=3646253552240532528' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3646253552240532528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3646253552240532528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2009/01/hosea-216.html' title='Hosea 2:16'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-4148689583063432421</id><published>2009-01-05T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T17:24:43.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>on rivers</title><content type='html'>I watch you from the precipice as you flow and glide&lt;br /&gt;down the curvy, fury mountain side&lt;br /&gt;as you form into the slumber pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there you sit green and cool, basking in the mornings dew&lt;br /&gt;looking cocky, looking stocky&lt;br /&gt;like an elephant in the zoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sing to the trees and drown out the birds&lt;br /&gt;with your lyre voice pipping through the greenery void.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the patter of your feet&lt;br /&gt;running wild in the meet&lt;br /&gt;against the dirt, against the bark&lt;br /&gt;oops there goes another lark&lt;br /&gt;flying fast, talons fisted&lt;br /&gt;strangling the little, silver fishes&lt;br /&gt;though you be fast, he be swifter&lt;br /&gt;poor, pitiful little fishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh rivers how they run&lt;br /&gt;flowing, shooting, like a gun&lt;br /&gt;in a blink they go by laughing&lt;br /&gt;killing time, making rhyme&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-4148689583063432421?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4148689583063432421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=4148689583063432421' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/4148689583063432421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/4148689583063432421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2009/01/on-rivers.html' title='on rivers'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-1111640193265861130</id><published>2008-12-27T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T13:11:28.964-08:00</updated><title type='text'>just an idea</title><content type='html'>so, yea, life is yet again interesting.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I know I'm getting older. I realize that I am reaching a point where I need to be on my own and do my own thing.&lt;br /&gt;It's weird because I think a lot of times I try to suppress that feeling and just try to exist according to how I've always existed; yet I do not think that is good enough.&lt;br /&gt;It is kind of like when a bird is first getting it's wings. The mother bird gives it a push and it flies around a bit then it comes back home. It does this several times until finally it builds its wings up to go on long flights around the town. As he flies around, he starts wanting his own things and doing his own things. He realizes that the nest is crowded and that he must go off.&lt;br /&gt;I think as the bird it is a scary but needed thing. He has no clue whats waiting for him but he knows its something that is going to be punctuated by success and failures alike.&lt;br /&gt;I love planning and plotting. I guess its that part of me that wants to control everything. However what I am seeing is that life has a way of doing things like a cycle. We exist according to that cycle and what we go through changes and molds us into human beings.&lt;br /&gt;Home is nice but what one begins to realize is that home for ones parents is not home for oneself. Perhaps I am just on an independent kick, but I think its time to actually be constructive and start leaping into the world.&lt;br /&gt;Hardship, burdens, fear of the unknown, the more I think on these things and pray about them the more I'm not sure if they are bad things. I had a teacher tell me that if there is no stress in my life then I am not doing anything. That sounds silly and when I first heard it I thought to myself that Dr. M is just a vindictive idiot who is just trying to justify the type of work he wants produced in his class. However, I do not feel that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I see the truth of his words, and though perhaps not fully, I understand a bit of what he was trying to say. Life is difficult and a constant guessing game. We never know whats lurking behind each little twist and curve, but we do know what is stable. The thing to do is balance your life with what is unknown and what is stable.&lt;br /&gt;You know when I look back years from now I want to see times where it was only because of God that I made it through. I want to remember that time I had to trust that the Lord was providing instead of knowing for sure that I was doing it myself. &lt;br /&gt;I see these places all around me like France and New York, California. Yea I have my whole life to see these sights, but why not when I am young. I think we get tied down in this idea that we must go get married and have children then that's it, but there's more. There is so much more. The world is out there and was made for us to explore it. God would not make it so wonderful and mysterious if he only meant for us to stay in one spot.&lt;br /&gt;I want to explore. I want to see the wonders not just watch them on some movie screen.&lt;br /&gt;I want us challenged and deserving of every moment that I exist. Forget restrictions, forget hinderances, I want to go head long into the creation and there I want to find myself. There I want to find God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-1111640193265861130?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1111640193265861130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=1111640193265861130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1111640193265861130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1111640193265861130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/just-idea.html' title='just an idea'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-5689733218251430846</id><published>2008-12-23T22:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T22:32:49.915-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a venting on unfulfilled love</title><content type='html'>I wrote to you to win your love,&lt;br /&gt;filling my words with so much care that I broke my fingers and bleed them bare.&lt;br /&gt;my emotion swirled within the current of thought, and for your heart; I daily fought.&lt;br /&gt;but now you leave me in your pity, sullen, broken, and oh so empty,&lt;br /&gt;for you gave me the venom of the heart.&lt;br /&gt;you gave me false signs that numbered to many.&lt;br /&gt;you who sat with a splattered smile and left me questioning all the while!&lt;br /&gt;and with a blunt and stunted file you chipped me apart piece by piece&lt;br /&gt;till no more love poured from my loins,&lt;br /&gt;but rather wrath and anger, something full of self danger.&lt;br /&gt;and there you left me&lt;br /&gt;ever restless without peace.&lt;br /&gt;mind racing and consuming, as if my hope would make me drown.&lt;br /&gt;despair settles where unfulfilled love has ended&lt;br /&gt;and you, O crucifier, have set forth the nails and crown.&lt;br /&gt;so watch and gloat at what you've wrote,&lt;br /&gt;wrote by silence, and through my malice&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-5689733218251430846?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5689733218251430846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=5689733218251430846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5689733218251430846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5689733218251430846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/venting-on-unfulfilled-love.html' title='a venting on unfulfilled love'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-8437399498605880035</id><published>2008-12-23T21:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T22:17:18.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I owe JM an apology. (a Christmas Vent)</title><content type='html'>So here's the deal before I left I had a debate with JM about the legitimacy of present giving a christmas. Believe it or not I believe that I may owe him an apology. I hate admitting I am wrong, perhaps it is a character flaw; but none the less, I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I keep on going into town and I see all this rampant scurrying about that makes life utterly dismal for every party involved. Another thing is how horrible people get about buying things. It turns them into these greedy, loathing machines who are only out to help themselves. Where is God being honored in all this mess. Where does someone stop and say "hold on, the reason we are doing this is to celebrate Jesus." No one does. It is all a game that we play and try to make it sound justified by slaping a Jesus sticker on it and saying hurray this is religion. Why should we celebrate christmas? We give to recieve and shouldn't we always be giving no matter what. Someone told me that we give to remind ourselves of the greatest gift that was given to us but when I was opening up my ipod and vast assortment of books and shirts Jesus was the last thing I was thinking about. I was thinking about what else I was getting. What was the next package going to hold? Was I going to get everything I wanted? That is vanity. Yes I love giving to others but I do not do it out of the love of the Lord that flows through me. Often, I do it out of obligation or because society dictates what I should do on a specific day.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;If this was the Lord's day, shouldn't we be fasting and praying. Wouldn't God be happier if his children unified and came together en masse and feel before his feet. Why do we give to each other when we should give to God. I am just really frustrated with this right now. I feel like I am part of the system which dilutes christanity. I feel hatred and anger during a time were the media tells me I should be giving and cheerful. When I turn on the news, all I hear is how someone was trampled or shot for money or a simple, little toy. I hate this. If people are going to abuse this day, then why do they not just change everything so that the religious context is removed. Why do we as christians not demand something more from our congregations. We are so lax with this world that we let it transform us instead of the other way around. I can't bare it any longer. Why? The economy sucks, yes. More and more people are being laid off everyday, yes. So why don't we forgo the presents and come together in love and community and celebrate a day of life and beauty instead of murdering oursleves for some stupid gift.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;Love during the holidays which is something I have dropped the ball on. I have focused so much and being angry and frustrated with people that I have neglected my own message of love. Thoughts and philosophies are like a double edge sword that cuts both ways. We must find something. It is our duty to be Christ to our families and friends to require nothing but give everything. I would urge you that just sitting down and praying with a loved one does more than buying them some fancy gift. Hunging your mother or father and spending time with them means more than buying them some fancy perfume or piece of clothing. Lets show this world that we are christians and that we remember this day not for Santa Claus of Rudolf but because of Christ Jesus. This was the time we celebrate Emmanuel. Yes, Jesus was not technically born on this day but none the less we have chosen to honor his birth during this time so lets do it with a humble and respectful heart. Let the love of God cost through you and let it flood through the earth from person to person till we all realize the meaning behind not just this holiday season but behind our very existence as human beings, for we are all children who need love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-8437399498605880035?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8437399498605880035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=8437399498605880035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/8437399498605880035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/8437399498605880035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-owe-jm-apology-christmas-vent.html' title='I owe JM an apology. (a Christmas Vent)'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-8190407398899906594</id><published>2008-12-16T18:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T18:42:45.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To send or not?</title><content type='html'>Well, this is a question that I never thought could have any spiritual significance, but our Lord again has taught using the simple things as his instruments. Somethings I think we expect God to send his lessons through the parting of seas or a literal hand coming down from the heavens and writing upon a wall. However, I  believe our God elects to use the simple.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I have gone through another bit of craziness which entitles me having to make a decision. I wrote a letter to convey my words and feelings about this subject and planned on sending in the letter. It took me about four or five tries but the letter came together to a way I found pleasing. Feeling accomplished, I made my way to the caf to grab a bit to eat. While there my brain began to tick like one of those earthquake gyroscopes. I began questioning the legitimacy of my letter and wondering if I should even send the letter. I began convincing myself that it was a stupid and rash decision. Wanting to postpone the letter, I ended my struggle on unsettling grounds.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;Finishing up my last bit of food, I thought to myself what advice would the Lord give me. I know that sounds crazy because I have no clue what God thinks, but I do know what he has advised others to do. I sat in my booth thinking, will sending this letter free me of stress and anxiety. Will this letter take out bitterness and anger. The more I thought about it, the more I was reminded about the fruits of the spirit. God wants us to have peace in our lives. I believe with all my heart that sending that letter will give me a peace no matter the repercussions that might ensue.&lt;br /&gt;I am not saying send a letter to your parents telling them your going to California to become a movie star because you hate your life. No, I think that there are somethings that if we pursue as Christians we can find comfort and peace in.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;Measure all things according to the word of God and then you will know if doing something is really worth doing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-8190407398899906594?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8190407398899906594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=8190407398899906594' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/8190407398899906594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/8190407398899906594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/to-send-or-not.html' title='To send or not?'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-2687611405710083657</id><published>2008-12-11T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:08:27.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled</title><content type='html'>I look in the mirror to see myself&lt;br /&gt;but the image looks aloof&lt;br /&gt;frustrated I through the full glass down onto the ground&lt;br /&gt;Broken pieces of glass scatter themselves across the floor&lt;br /&gt;each one shows a new me in so many new ways&lt;br /&gt;I look and stare, pick one up, and look at it&lt;br /&gt;I like the image shinning back at me and so I keep looking at it&lt;br /&gt;as I turn it around between my fingers I can't see myself in full view&lt;br /&gt;I keep turning and trying yet nothing happens&lt;br /&gt;Frustrated I throw the glass back down on the floor where it shatters some more&lt;br /&gt;over and over I do this searching for a image that I like till glass shards hug my feet&lt;br /&gt;I am the same person that looked in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;yet now I cannot see who I am anymore&lt;br /&gt;I have destroyed my identity to feed my self ambition&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-2687611405710083657?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2687611405710083657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=2687611405710083657' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2687611405710083657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2687611405710083657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/untitled_11.html' title='untitled'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-5754407268367323693</id><published>2008-12-08T18:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T18:52:42.797-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>Can we watch a sunset as she gently dips her foot into the pool of time&lt;br /&gt;and there with tender toes she stirs the waters&lt;br /&gt;causing little flowing ripples to rise upon the surface&lt;br /&gt;with a soft motion they roll along their way&lt;br /&gt;coursing through an eternal bay&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-5754407268367323693?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5754407268367323693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=5754407268367323693' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5754407268367323693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5754407268367323693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/untitled_08.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-7434468370349888834</id><published>2008-12-06T14:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T14:58:59.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I see God within my blindness</title><content type='html'>I see God within my blindness. Sounds like a kind of oxymoron, and I guess to a degree it is suppose to be. My friend M is blind. She has been blind all her life, which to me can probably be one of the worse things in the world. However, I was in the shower thinking how does she believe in God. I know that sounds silly and most of you would probably say "Jay, come on, shes blind not deaf and dumb. She can go to church like the rest of us and hear the gospel preached and attain faith the same as the rest of us." However I am not sure about everyone else, but I believe in God because I see him daily. As I look at the trees blowing in the tugging wind, as I look at the lines and pores of my hands, as I watch the brick and cement of the buildings, as I look into a persons eyes and see them sparkling and shinning like a jewel of beauty. M does not see that.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;You may think this silly but I closed my eyes and looked around. I begin to feel around and touch things. Then I went into the middle of the room and stood completely and totally still, trying not to touch anything. It's tough to do. However, after a few minutes I began to feel around. I felt my hair, wrapping my finger around every little particle. I tried to feel the color. I then picked up a leaf and with delicate hands I ran my finger tips over it. I felt the rough texture of the dried veins. What I began to realize is that God is in everything not just in the things I can see. As a blind man, I see nothing but that which I feel. I feel the wind so I believe. I feel a tree so I believe. I feel the soft silk of my hair and so I believe. I feel as my body moves and strains, as it rests and relaxes. I am real and their is something within me that is real. God is real because you can feel him. As you place your hand upon your breast and find the pounding of your heart, as you put your hand upon your lips and feel the pins of sensitivity as your breath passes along them.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;My challenge would be to experience this daily. Go outside and feel the cold. Turn off the senses but that of touch and watch as the Lord embraces you in a complete and total frenzy of his love. Walk from the shade into the sun and feel the smile of the Lord. Kiss and hug and feel the intimacy of our Lord. Walk with bare feet upon the grass, upon the concrete, upon the cool marble of the dormitory floor and know that creation breathes in God. Let his fullness capture you. Let his touch come upon you. For if you only look and never feel than how do you know that something is real. At times we are blind and if we know not how to feel our Lord then how can we regain our faith?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;written while listening to Explosion in the Skies song "The Only Moment We Were Only"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-7434468370349888834?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7434468370349888834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=7434468370349888834' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/7434468370349888834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/7434468370349888834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-see-god-within-my-blindness.html' title='I see God within my blindness'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-2939218142648772323</id><published>2008-12-03T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T21:15:11.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Canterbury</title><content type='html'>I see Canterbury in my palm&lt;br /&gt;with a line of pilgrims pouring in hordes&lt;br /&gt;down from past into present&lt;br /&gt;mooring in thought&lt;br /&gt;lodging in heart&lt;br /&gt;their tells as fresh and new&lt;br /&gt;yet founded and refined&lt;br /&gt;like good aged wine&lt;br /&gt;We sing we laugh&lt;br /&gt;a raunchy joke&lt;br /&gt;a naughty poke&lt;br /&gt;their pig faced and angelic faces stare through the weathered pages&lt;br /&gt;The ole sage new some graces&lt;br /&gt;by bringing these souls into one place&lt;br /&gt;and leaving them to their own devices&lt;br /&gt;we watch them come and go&lt;br /&gt;though they never know&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-2939218142648772323?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2939218142648772323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=2939218142648772323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2939218142648772323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2939218142648772323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/canterbury.html' title='Canterbury'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-568653332893351137</id><published>2008-12-03T21:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T21:05:06.621-08:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled</title><content type='html'>The freckles of the day&lt;br /&gt;fall like calloused snowflakes&lt;br /&gt;and as they go along their way&lt;br /&gt;they drift and twirl through the wind&lt;br /&gt;pinging and ponging back in forth&lt;br /&gt;a unison of delicacy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-568653332893351137?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/568653332893351137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=568653332893351137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/568653332893351137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/568653332893351137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/untitled_03.html' title='untitled'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-1336918964653293692</id><published>2008-12-03T08:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T08:19:21.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>wanting to write&lt;br /&gt;to create&lt;br /&gt;to build and mold into something untold&lt;br /&gt;to break the famine&lt;br /&gt;to use the glutton&lt;br /&gt;its why we need to write&lt;br /&gt;why we need to set down the movie&lt;br /&gt;set down the video game&lt;br /&gt;its why we need to pick up a book and feel our heads with wild ideas&lt;br /&gt;because we can because we should&lt;br /&gt;i want to be freed from limitation&lt;br /&gt;I want to explore and run and dance&lt;br /&gt;I want to do it naturally as God made me&lt;br /&gt;If i dance when they tell me&lt;br /&gt;and study when they tell me&lt;br /&gt;if I save my money and spend it when they tell me&lt;br /&gt;what is the difference between me and a caged bird&lt;br /&gt;what is the difference&lt;br /&gt;I say nothing&lt;br /&gt;slave once, slave forever&lt;br /&gt;be different and break the waves&lt;br /&gt;stand firm and refuse to move&lt;br /&gt;even when the push and shove and curse you out&lt;br /&gt;they want you&lt;br /&gt;they hate they cant control you&lt;br /&gt;but beware control has many faces&lt;br /&gt;if you do just to spite&lt;br /&gt;or to copy the rebel your still caged only its to close around you for you to see&lt;br /&gt;be who you are and find your slot&lt;br /&gt;I am not a Dean or a Brando&lt;br /&gt;I am not a Keats or a Shelly&lt;br /&gt;I am not a Faulkner nor a Vonnegut&lt;br /&gt;I am who I am nothing more nothing less&lt;br /&gt;created for some reason&lt;br /&gt;to pray and to talk&lt;br /&gt;to read and to write&lt;br /&gt;to laugh and to cry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-1336918964653293692?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1336918964653293692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=1336918964653293692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1336918964653293692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1336918964653293692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/wanting-to-write-to-create-to-build-and.html' title=''/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-3161668033166332722</id><published>2008-12-02T15:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T16:13:13.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I my brothers keeper?</title><content type='html'>Few people remember that this was the question Cain presented to God when questioned about the murder of his brother Able. A tragic story but even more tragic is the fact that these murders are being carried out today as well. Sure it may not be with a bludgeon to the head but it is by a laugh,  fake words, a taunt. We forget that if we claim to be someones friend that we are then challenged to watch out over that person and we take almost an unspoken vow to help that person become something better. God stresses community so that we can learn and build upon each other. God has given each and everyone of us something special to do for his kingdom. Through community that gift is expressed and tied into the other gifts the Lord has given. With everything working together, the kingdom of God can move forward and progress however with obstinacy their can be nothing.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I have this "friend" he his different. Joseph has some kind of problem I am not quite sure what it is, terets or something of the sort. I befriended him because he made me laugh a lot at his own expenses. He didnt seem to mind, I think he felt some kind of purpose in that. Now I look back on what he is becoming and I am left with this dilema. What have I done to help Joseph? God put him into my life knowing that I could deal with him and not be bothered however I have squandered my relationship with him. I have set it on the backburner and there I have let it deep fry until it has disentergrated into a pool of black decay. That is not christian, thats bearly anything humane at all. We can not be people who use others, that is something hell does. The devil uses and exploits until a person is completely and totally void of the gifts of the Lord. Joseph needs help. He needs men and women there to tell him when he needs to calm down and stop. He has no control; and though I may be coming off as incredibly self righteous, I find myslef extremely frustrated over this. I am tired of just dealing and ignoring its time to be constructive. As friends we are not always called to be liked, sometimes we have to do things that will set us at odds with those we love. It is not a matter of if but rather when. My closes friends are those who are honest and true that refuse to let me live in lies. Can I be that true friend for Joseph? Can I be that friend he curses and slanders and fights but in the end needs? It's a question that is extremely tough for me right now, yet it has never been more real.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I challenge everyone to pray over there relationships and analyze what kind of people that are. Are you someone who just laughs and shares in shallow relationship with others or are you someone who constructs and molds others? Do not take my words out of context. There is a time to laugh and have a good time, nothing beats leading by example. However, there are moments when you need to step up and say this isn't right and as your friend I am stepping out in love to confront you. It's not a pretty job to do but if you claim to love someone even as a friend you must submit yourself to those conditions. I will have to deal with Joseph on these terms and if he chooses to leave and walk away than I must stay there and wait till he comes back. If I do not where do I have a right to say I desire to be like Christ? Will I stand before the Lord and say "Am I my brothers keeper."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-3161668033166332722?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3161668033166332722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=3161668033166332722' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3161668033166332722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/3161668033166332722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/am-i-my-brothers-keeper.html' title='Am I my brothers keeper?'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-1752349835286805587</id><published>2008-12-02T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T12:04:55.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>What would you do if I told you I loved you&lt;br /&gt;would you cower in tears filled with sharp fear&lt;br /&gt;for the distance is great and makes hearts faint&lt;br /&gt;or would you kiss my head and bid me astray&lt;br /&gt;tell me "good friend please take my hand&lt;br /&gt;but my strong beating heart is not to be had"&lt;br /&gt;Could it be you pull me close and their in the mist and the fog&lt;br /&gt;we would speak silent words with eyes locked tight&lt;br /&gt;a still chill wisping through a moon light night&lt;br /&gt;Shaking hands skirting close to outstretched palms&lt;br /&gt;Could we stay calm in reason or would we be given to treason&lt;br /&gt;and emotion, the potion of the heart, would it break through silence&lt;br /&gt;till the night fades down behind us&lt;br /&gt;what would you do if I told you I loved you&lt;br /&gt;I wish no answer&lt;br /&gt;not even a whisper&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-1752349835286805587?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1752349835286805587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=1752349835286805587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1752349835286805587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1752349835286805587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-6055633793478664594</id><published>2008-12-02T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T11:47:19.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Solid Mooring</title><content type='html'>I find it hard to make time to do anything sometimes. Its like getting caught up in a whirlwind of life. You lose traction and like a lifeless scarecrow you get thrown around for quite some time. I do not necessarily believe this is so much a bad thing. If you begin to analyze your surroundings you will see how crazy and chaotic times do become with hurricanes, tornadoes, then those days of quite solace with the wind slightly blowing and the sun smiling with that bright toothy grin as you lay next to a glistening pool of crystal blue water. I think the thing to do when you get in these torrents is not to forget who you are. You do not forget that God is everything. You do not forget where you go for strength. Sometimes in our desperation for stability we begin to clinging to anything we can, and that can be more devastating than the storm we are in. You know what is a solid foundation and you know what isn't. If you are hungry your not going to drink gallons upon gallons of water, your going to find something like rice or a piece of steak to fill up your stomach. Water is good but it is not a solid to fill you up. You may have a lot of school work with papers and tests, but you need to stop and take time for yourself and take time out to be with God. I find myself trying to do nothing but school work and I start building upon a foundation that is not stable. Once I finish with my studies its like everything I had built upon that paper or test comes crashing down on me and then I begin to slowly suffocate under hours and hours of debris. Storms are good, and if you trust in the Lord you may realize that they can clean out an area of your life that has been badly polluted with junk. Start over rebuild upon the rock and know that foundations are meant to be shaken so that they can be tested even with the Lord. I think God likes proving himself to us as well. I think he loves it when a big storm comes and we cling to him. He then charges the storm to rage all around with the most horrendous mights but yet it can never even stir Him. Right now is a time of immense chaos and confusion. There's a thousand different plans to secure me in this life and each sounds as good as the next yet no clarity seems to present itself as the best possible route. Do not focus on the thing that is trying to take you away rather focus on the thing that is keeping you at bay. I would rather look and secure my position then look at a wave about to strike me. I know that if I make myself secure then it will be impossible for me to be blown away or thrown out to drown, and once the blast is over I can reemerge with all my strength in tack. So be still in the storm and look towards your surrounding and see what is going to keep you steady rather than what is going to change you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-6055633793478664594?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/6055633793478664594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=6055633793478664594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/6055633793478664594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/6055633793478664594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/solid-mooring.html' title='Solid Mooring'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-1652304185706295209</id><published>2008-11-12T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T12:44:45.868-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuck in the Trough</title><content type='html'>I feel displaced as if the very meaning and existence of my life has been completely and totally fulfilled. It is not so much a Oh I want to kill myself kind of down; however, it is a feel of questioning. I feel that my purpose is nonessential to the balance of the life I live. It seems that I serve no productive means of accomplishing anything in this life. My dreams and aspirations have all been questioned and challenged by factors outside of my reach. When I turn to look at some hopeful meaning to define me I am merely meet with the images of life like cloud images. The clock ticks, I age, and still nothing comes from the root of my bosom.&lt;br /&gt;R discussed this with me for a long hour and a half. He explained it to me like this. A wave is a very strong force on this earth. Its rising and falling can wear away even the strongest of materials, and provides man with just a glimpse of the eternal strength of our Lord. If you manage to get up on top of the wave you can sit on it and let it carry you in. Your body does not have to put forth any effort and all you have to do is stay on for the ride. It is fun and free. The problem that arises is once that wave crashes down what to do. When the wave falls you have to start peddling as hard and as fast as you can so that you do not get pulled under. If you ride the wave totally in and sink down within the trough then you are going to be stuck under in a tumbling mess. Life will be confusing and guide less, and like a blind child you will grope through the darkness praying for some form of familiarity to cling to.&lt;br /&gt;So now your faced with two questions. Do I let go and drown, or do I start kicking and paddling with all my might until I finally break the surface?&lt;br /&gt;Do I pursue that which I felt I should seek after, or do I allow the complete and total confusion through me into a tailspin of fright. I break it. I push and I'll pull until the last bit of breath is forced out of my lungs. I refuse to give up. Throwing every hand, kicking with every foot I will break through. Faith is where I am aline. Here the cliff lies and here I jump. My faith tells me there will be water at the end to brace my fall. My logic tells me that the bottom is unscence therefore constitutes hazard. My psyche says whats the use all ends the same anyway. My emotions scream for a liberation but are to mad to find it on their own. So I hold my nose and with a running start I leap off into the black abysis. Now I feel the wind hit my fleshy face. The air sucks back my lungs, and a feeling of utter lightness overtakes me. My mind spins but just for a minute as the shots of adrenaline flake through my blood. All over is darkness and a deep fog has griped my eyes. Downward I fall not knowing my resolve, but in faith I jumped and in faith I shall land. I will push through the trough so that one day, maybe soon, maybe far, I will arise on top of the wave and say "I am J M ,and I have conquered this  day!!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-1652304185706295209?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1652304185706295209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=1652304185706295209' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1652304185706295209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1652304185706295209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/11/stuck-in-trough.html' title='Stuck in the Trough'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-625391201706309766</id><published>2008-11-11T20:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T20:24:09.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rain on a Cool Night</title><content type='html'>the ice cold rain drizzles down upon my hair&lt;br /&gt;sticking to the thick full strands&lt;br /&gt;and with the blow of a cool breeze down they run through the jungle like a frightened hare from a monstrous bear&lt;br /&gt;and as I brush my hand through the dark brown forest, the cool like a hive of wasps with razor sharp stingers catch the palm of my soft hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is realization in that rain&lt;br /&gt;that I am real&lt;br /&gt;Though the heat from my body is drain&lt;br /&gt;I take up pride in the fact I feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is in the small matters that God reveals that which makes us a creation&lt;br /&gt;be it the cool touch of a frosty rain day&lt;br /&gt;or feel of the wet ground under the feet where I stay&lt;br /&gt;Look unto these realizations within the simple of Gods creations&lt;br /&gt;For there he waits on those He's called&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-625391201706309766?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/625391201706309766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=625391201706309766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/625391201706309766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/625391201706309766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/11/rain-on-cool-night.html' title='The Rain on a Cool Night'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-5325793372838525370</id><published>2008-11-10T12:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T12:57:57.812-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a good friend sticks closer than a brother</title><content type='html'>The love and beauty of a true friend is incomparable. I mean a love not in an eros fashion but rather in something above what normal men and women call love. A love that exceeds the physical and temporal and rather lies within the infinite. These friends are few and far between and you often do not realize their significance until after a legitimate interaction. My friend R has been a blessing throughout my life. He helps me look into myself and challenge that which makes me question. Tearing through the holds of what I think is incorrect, He helps me see that being wrong is part of being a creature of humanity. God  has given man all that he needs and what he lacks he finds in faith. I appreciate the christian brotherhood R has given me within my life. It is crucial that you let these people know their value. In proverbs it talks about how a good friend sick closer than a brother. Closer than flesh and blood. That really makes me stop and think for a minute on why God would preach so much about community. I then realize the import of trusting in my brother and sisters; and not only that, but in those who are seeking the Lord and wish to help guide me as a christian warrior. My words fail when describing the value of these blessings. I feel the honor and pride that comes with being a member within my christian family and am filled to the brim with strength. Know friends that there are those out their praying for you. THeir are those out there that are seeking to establish you not just on the earth but in heaven above. The words imparted to me today resignate through my mind like a gun shot within the silent allyway of a broken down train station. I thank the Lord for the blessing and promise of community; yet above all, I think him for those whom he has appointed in my life as guiding lights of faith. Those selfless beacons who guide to His majesty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-5325793372838525370?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5325793372838525370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=5325793372838525370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5325793372838525370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5325793372838525370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/11/good-friend-sticks-closer-than-brother.html' title='a good friend sticks closer than a brother'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-2986640257595080590</id><published>2008-11-09T15:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T15:53:15.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the sound of a bell</title><content type='html'>so the bell sounds&lt;br /&gt;a cracking of the silence resignation through the rolling waves of green grass&lt;br /&gt;a piercing of the ear which makes the drum swiftly pound&lt;br /&gt;pouring forth it losses mass&lt;br /&gt;I saw not the effects of this bell&lt;br /&gt;but some things are meant to be experienced by other senses&lt;br /&gt;and since my eyes can be fooled by fraudulent sells&lt;br /&gt;I trust in the unused lenses of my psyche&lt;br /&gt;the air is stilled&lt;br /&gt;freed from the twitters and chirps of the wrens and robins&lt;br /&gt;the waves of grass lie in frozen blobs&lt;br /&gt;for the air is stilled no life no thrill&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-2986640257595080590?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2986640257595080590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=2986640257595080590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2986640257595080590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/2986640257595080590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/11/sound-of-bell.html' title='the sound of a bell'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-4429816371792879985</id><published>2008-11-08T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T13:26:49.497-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie Review</title><content type='html'>"Empire of the Sun"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I love the 80's. It might be that I am a product of the eighties (manufactured in 88, to be exact). Therefore, most of my movie collection comes primarily from the 80's.&lt;br /&gt;  I saw "Empire of the Sun" sitting snuggle on the shelf at my local target store (a great place for anyone to go if they need to extinguish a nervous mind). Fascinated by the cover I decided to buy the movie. I would not suggest cover buying, it usually results with you wondering why in the hell you just wasted ten dollars on something your never going to watch again like the trash "8 seconds" and the Gary Oldman version of "Dracula."&lt;br /&gt;Enough with chasing rabbits.&lt;br /&gt;Empire is about a boy of goes through the hell of being separated from his parents and having to endure a Japanese Internment Camp. The boy is played by Christian Bale who gives a stunning performance. If you are familiar with any of Bales work now a days its funny to see the little things he does in this move and the little things he does in "American Psycho" and "Batman." I am not sure if I can capture what this movie means in words. It will require a lot more watching. It gives me the feeling of sorrow and abandonement. It's really hard to be connected to the characters in this movie. The one character, Bale, you want to love him but then you feel disconnected from him. It is difficult to explain. The screen shots in the film are beautiful and are characteristic of Spielberg. I kind of thought this would be a childs movie, but I am not even sure what kind of movie this was.&lt;br /&gt;You may hate it. I love the movie "The Fountain" which almost everyone who watched it hated. The setting for this would be great for a night movie. Start it at six after dinner and get a pool of ice cream, three scopes vanilla with caramel on the side. John Malkovich gives a great performance, but when doesnt he, and Bale does fantastic. Nothing seems to come close to watching a good movie, but the thing that trumps that is watching a movie that makes you have to rewatch it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-4429816371792879985?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4429816371792879985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=4429816371792879985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/4429816371792879985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/4429816371792879985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/11/movie-review.html' title='Movie Review'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-5027411024178959528</id><published>2008-11-08T12:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T13:07:49.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is my dream.&lt;br /&gt;         I sit in a big room with lots of tables and cheap looking chairs with short backs and fake leather caked all around them. My teacher sits down and reads my paper making marks with his bloody pen. Misplaced commas, silent words, and construed theme. Pointing to each little mark, he explains the mistake. I sit and listen, looking at the black, white, and red painting. He stops and begins to pack up his briefcase. "How does it feel to be single your whole life." He turns and looks at me with a plain face, some completely and totally truthful. "It feels quite terrible." He turns back to his briefcase, packs everything up and leaves the room. I sit with my paper in the quite of that cheap room. Nothing comes in, nothing passes by. Through the window I see the wind blowing, just blowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my whisper.&lt;br /&gt;         I slept on my couch last night and did not brush my teeth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-5027411024178959528?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5027411024178959528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=5027411024178959528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5027411024178959528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/5027411024178959528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-is-my-dream.html' title=''/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313461087811962318.post-1621807658915914295</id><published>2008-11-07T18:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T19:11:46.685-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vent'/><title type='text'>After driving....</title><content type='html'>I just have to go sometimes. There is no real good explanation for it. Life just builds up and the dam starts over flowing and before it shatters I have to leave. Its a therapeutic maneuver as much as it is a psychological stabilizer. My problem, a woman. One of consider beauty and spirit. I find that loving her is quite one sided, and the tragic part, for me that is, is I am the one side. However, though that be the deepest problem, my life seems riddled with all shorts of weeds. Parent's job is on the rocks; I'm a junior in college and have no clue what to do with my life; money seems to be disappearing faster than a ole miss fan at a state game. Have you ever tried to put a rubix cube together but with only half of the squares containing color to them. I pray. I read my Bible. I talk to friends and attempt a community support; however, I think God makes us go through the coals so that we know what life is like without him. I am super religious. I see meaning in everything and purpose to exist. In my opinion, I think to deny God is to deny reality, which therefore would give you a key to doing anything in this world such as murder, rape, and all those things we say that people shouldn't do because it evades some moral standard. But one when seeks to find where that moral standard comes from no seems to want to look at the obviousm, christianity. Is that ludicrouse. I think not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Anyways, Barrack Obama was elected the president of the United States. I think on tuesday? I saw many reactions, including read way to many on the feign that is facebook. To say the least, I am quite shocked. I could not believe how many people were writing this guy as the antichrist or some kind of evil, sinister, to be completely unoriginal, Hitler. Yes, the man says some things that are crazy. Yes, he is a raging liberal and therefore is full of hot air, but thats our president. To all the conservatives who got pissed off when the liberal media began hammering Bush, that is no different from how you treat BarrackO. I mean come on there has got to be a point where people stop, take a breath, and assess the situation. I am a libertarion and absolute dislike both conservative and liberal philosophy of government; however, by electing to stand as a liberal, I also accept the fact that no matter who is elected I must serve and honor that man as my superior. To the christians who are scoffing at this might I draw your attention to the verse which clearly states render unto Ceaser that which is Ceasers. I wish people would think before they speak. If someone could create a delay drug that made all your words pass through your head before you spoke that would be a glorious thing. We have seen eight years of the conservatives now comes the reigns of the Democrats. Which one is worse, no clue. I tend to be partial towards the conservatives since I was raised conservative. But what ever happened to patriotism, to being willing to step up for ones country as a servant. I am amazed at how so little Americans even appreciate the name American. Frankly whenever anyway tells me Americans suck just because, I really want to beat their ass with the little bronze eagle ontop of the flag poles. Well, if this is how we must live then we shall. Some words passed down to me from the blue collar society has enabled me to get through life some how "half the shit you worry about never even happens, so just focus on the day, stay away from drugs, and by the end you'll have had a hell  of a life." It's a crude saying, but a good one known the less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I will be continueing my study through the book of Daniel this week. Hopefully, the Lord will give a word that electrifies not only the spirit but my aching emotions as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6313461087811962318-1621807658915914295?l=whispersandreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1621807658915914295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6313461087811962318&amp;postID=1621807658915914295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1621807658915914295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6313461087811962318/posts/default/1621807658915914295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whispersandreams.blogspot.com/2008/11/after-driving.html' title='After driving....'/><author><name>JM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08446170032313402170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C40acBV4pWM/SRX9FQO8oDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/-wXD-_ZHMMQ/S220/n1290960002_30006943_2720.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
