This was posted on an online-forum that I'm a part of for school. I thought I'd share, because it was amazingly beautiful. Enjoy.

"A Few Early Thoughts
February 27, 2008

Some say we go through life like bumper cars, meeting and greeting, seeing then leaving. I prefer a comparison to multitudes of molecules, macro and micro. We all reveal our affinities and phobias sooner or later. Many reactions occur simply as transformations of life's vibrations. Entropic displacements of nobles and violence along paths of laws and numbers we stand alone.

So where is God?

There's a flicker in my eyes when I ask this. It causes a nervous itch in most people, I have witnessed. An often unwitnessed testament is the pressure billowing from the heart. That pressure which keeps us inflated can be felt when one is mindful.

Life. Blood and Breath.

There is what we can see. Perhaps better said, there is what we can feel. Sight simply captures light bouncing among forms. However, as I lift the shield to block the blow of my enemy's sword, I feel it as an extension of my arm. I feel myself become more massive with a new center. I feel forever pass before the blow is received.

I see you next to me sitting, not making contact. Yet I feel your presence. Breathing nearly inaudibly you, a beautiful pattern of molecules, sit thumbing through leaves of concepts. You exhale internal interactions. I inhale our closeness and feel a non-sexual intimacy.

Molecules.

Beyond molecules I may soon find when the shield fails to intercept the blade. Beyond energy when my pounding heart overwhelms the pain. Once again I am mindful—mindful of my weakening breath, of my vigorous blood flow, of my imminent future. Bonds of familiarity are severed with that sword. Memories of odd intimacy begin to fade. I forget why I was fighting this slayer. Just a few moments ago he was my mirror image. Physically, we faced the other on a fruitless field. Beyond that, we had both seen the wonders of human animation, both considered abstract observations, and both failed to quite understand this momentary hatred between us. At that moment I was him and he was me.

It is difficult to imagine ignition of the soul, much less so the cessation of that flame. Uniformly so, both happen. What remains?

The molecules are borrowed. The dwellings are mutated patterns of tendency and opportunity. Ignoring the sentimental heart, what becomes of the situations that influence the rhythms of the heart? Do Shakespeare’s tragedies speak to our truest fear—that love is doomed? From any of this can we gather any palpable evidence in our quest to find God?

I leave you with these thoughts on this early morning."


I'll be back at some point this weekend to actually post.

Jen