Monday, April 26, 2010

Shall I tell you?

I don't like writing updates about my life, but I almost feel like I ought to. Something rather interesting (Though I'm not sure that's quite the word...) happened recently, and I don't know for sure, but you guys might like to hear about it. It's still hard to think about, let alone write about and publish. So I guess I will keep you in suspense and leave that post for another day...

Monday, April 19, 2010

Haikus

Just a few haikus I wrote or finished today. I started writing the first one quite awhile ago, needless to day, I was having a slow day. The other two are kind of about how I've have gained a new ability to see beauty everywhere. I hope you like them.

Monotonicity

Daily life, dismal.
The same things every day.
I need variance.

God
Beauty is inside.
Beauty occupies the air.
Beauty has no bounds.

The exhilaration of Beauty
Stricken, I am pain.
Beauty, a sharply sweet sword.
My eyes are open.


A strike from above (?)

I had the funniest epiphany the other day. (Hmmmm, that kinda sounds like something my Mom might say, minus the word Funniest.) It's about balance and stuff like that. You can't create without destroying something, or at least without taking something apart. Like you can't really build a wooden table or chair without cutting down and killing a tree. You can't sew a cotton dress without killing cotton plants and breaking them down. You can't build a stone wall without breaking up a few rocks. You can't make a knife without burning a few trees and melting down some iron (Which in turn was extracted from the Earth.)
I don't know if this works in all cases, but it's kinda interesting to think about.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Anne's path to her soul, a short sort of story.

Anne was able to really focus on herself whilst in hiding. She had the opportunity to delve deep within her personality and explore. What she found there was even stranger and more beautiful than she could have ever imagined, she found her untainted soul, the true Anne. She had to dig through many layers of Anne-masks in order to get there, and the Anne-masks did not easily give up their hold on her.
Everyone was used to the masked Anne, and became perplexed when she dared to uncover and set free her true self. Their reaction made Anne falter, the masks gained power once again.
Still, Anne tried numerous times. And each time, the people around her were shocked by what they saw. This new Anne was too alien, too strange, and too unfamiliar for them. This Anne was deep, this Anne knew things. Anne had become quieter, less boisterous. She didn't prattle, she spoke with feeling. Anne had a true and beautiful personality under her masks.
But this unmasked Anne didn't have much time or space to grow. It did not have the strength to persevere all of the time. The masks were too familiar, too comfortable. There were two interchangeable Annes, both vying for attention and control. How long this went on, we do not know. Which Anne won out? I think the unmasked Anne won, the Anne that was kind, the Anne that cared and loved. The true, infinite Anne. The Anne that told stories to little children at Bergen-Belsen.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Recently- made handcrafted books






The other day...

I am sitting in my favorite place to be. I am outside, deep within our field where I like to play my flute.
The annual Spring gales are upon us; my paper flaps wildly in the wind as I write.
I am so sad, I finished the diary of Anne Frank not too long ago. My feelings are of a great loss.
It's snowing, just a few sparse flakes fall on me and my paper. A school bus passes, and a chicken sidles up to me, also watchfully keeping it's distance.
I felt like I knew Anne, she was a real person. She had a soul, and wasn't afraid to bare it in her writing. When I read that she died in Bergen-Belsen at the end of the book, I began sobbing as if my best friend had perished. In a way, that wasn't far from the truth.
I knew Anne had died young even before I had heard of this class. I tried reading The Diary of a Young Girl some years ago, and my Mom told me it was depressing. I asked her why, she told me that Anne dies at the end. That, and the fact that the beginning of the journal is terribly boring, drove me to abandon the book.
I have researched and written about Anne Fank's death , but I still wept. I curled up on my Mom's rocking chair, and I cried.
I learned so much about Anne as I read her journal, and through her, I learned about myself. She taught me as if she had stood and talked to me in person as I read her journal.
The last passage was particularly poignant, it was a beautiful ending to an amazing book. Anne truly poured all of her heart and soul into writing that entry. It made losing her all the more bitter-sweet.
Few books have made me cry as I did at the end. One other besides Anne's diary was the last book of "The Bartimeus trilogy". Although both have heart-rending endings, I am comforted by the fact that both have struck a chord within me.
It is becoming exceptionally windy, so I shall begin thinking of going inside. I wish to play a song on my flute for Anne, so I shall leave you here. Thank you, and, Namarie.

Monday, April 5, 2010

End

I knew she was going to die, I knew that. I researched it, I wrote about it, my Mother told me, long ago. I held the fact in my mind as I read. I Knew, and I was still unprepared for the sobs that broke me.

Enlightenment :)

The beauty takes me and swallows me alive, sometimes kicking. I am wounded and healed at the same time.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Dearest Anne,

I feel as if I know you, from experience as well as the reading of your journal. I would like to thank you, you have taught me more about WWII than any old History book could have. Le hannon.
Anne, I would have liked to meet you. I feel a connection through the ages to you, but I expect everyone who has read your journal feels that way. You may have died young, but your journal will forever keep your memory alive. I want you to know that. Still, I wish I could some how have rescued you. My heart aches when I think of what you have gone through, and I try to reach back and comfort you. I don't know if it helps, but I like to think it does.
I don't know how to express all of my feelings to you, but I feel like you understand.
Anne, can you feel this letter, even though you probably won't ever read it?

Noro go hul, bado go Eru,
Amoniel

Run with the wind, go with God,
Bryn

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Dumbest holiday ever invented

"You’d better watch what you do on April fools, you just might get caught and tied like a rucksack of potatoes on a Wednesday afternoon."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"I don’t know, it just sounded good."