(Letter, 13 October 1819)

"My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you — I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again — my Life seems to stop there — I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving — I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you. [...] I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion — I have shudder'd at it — I shudder no more — I could be martyr'd for my Religion — Love is my religion — I could die for that — I could die for you." (Letter, 13 October 1819)
from John Keats to Fanny Brawne.

one who falls down will grow up

There are places we return to when we are scared. The universe is vast and terrifying and unfamiliar, and in our darkest moments we turn to a space or hole or corner that is recognizable.

And inevitably, we don't want to return to some places. Memories hold fast to walls and ceilings and soak into the furniture, they lock the windows and never come out. The pain that started in that place may never leave.

But like nature does to a forest with a fire, so can a memory be erased. And something new grows there. You let go of what had been and make room for something better, something more beautiful, something to take away the hurt.

Within the context of this renewal, I have been thinking about things lately like my wedding, and some drama regarding the building it is in.

I have been thinking about old friends.
I have been thinking about the person I have been.

And I have been praying that God will make a new space out of the old one, new friends and a new "self." I was listening to the song "Always" by Switchfoot in the car, and just started weeping in the second verse.

I asked that the beginning of my new life (in 75 days!) provide a place for others to start over with each other.
It doesn't matter how deep the hurt has been, God can create a space for healing, not hurt.
Open yourself to new healing, not old hurt.

"Always"
This is the start
This is your heart
This is the day you were born
This is the sun
These are your lungs
This is the day you were born

And I am always, always
Always yours

And I am always, always
Always yours

These are the scars
Deep in your heart
This is the place you were born
And this is the hole
Where most of your soul
Comes ripping out
From the places you've been torn


And it is always, always
Always yours
And I am always, I'm always
Always yours

Oo, oo, oo, oo
Oo, oo, oo, oo
Hallelujah, I'm caving in
Hallelujah, I'm in love again
Hallelujah, I'm a wretched man
Hallelujah, every breath is a second chance
Yeah

And it is always, always
Always yours
And I am always, I'm always
Always yours
Yeah, yeah
I am always yours
I'm yours
Yeah, yeah
I am always yours
I'm always yours

because it's national poetry month

As the man beholds the woman
As the woman beholds the man,
Curiously they note each other,
As each other they only can.
-Bryan Procter

cordially

I sent out these papery treasures today. My hands are sore and my carpals have more extensive damage than a week ago, but at least now there will be people at my wedding to see how arthritic my poor little fingers are.
Don't worry, I used a sponge to seal them. All 208.

wisdom

I wrote this on June 7, 2010. Some things need to be dusted off every once in a while.

coming attractions

I am SO excited for the final concert this year. We're even recording "It Ain't Over", an original song by Devlin. (also, I'm a soloist this year!) It's gonna be good.

from whom all blessings flow

This previous Sunday my grandfather Arlo Robbins passed away at the age of 96. We have known for a long time, clearly, that he was on his way out. And so it took a few days to hit me.

But it did hit me, this afternoon at about 4 o'clock. I was watching a Thanksgiving episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. And I thought about Thanksgiving with my family, the women cooking all day, and the men watching football with Arlo until dinner. And grandpa would make us all circle up and hold hands in that tiny room, and we (his wife of over 60 years, his 5 children, and 8 grandchildren) would sing the doxology.

I bet he's singing it right now.