in a little while

i have six drafts saved to my blog. they have been accumulating since my months in belgium. maybe in the next days i will set aside my slight perfectionism and push ‘publish’. i have been writing more. this is good. writing for me means first there comes prayer. i can’t seem to do one without the other.

i am reading anna karenina now. 250 pages deep and i am furious with anna. but im not so sure i can be mad at her just yet, i must wait for some sort of uncovering or some resolution. some responsibility of action. of sin. oh mrs. k, you are not the woman i thought you to be.

it is saturday, 19:30 (rather 7:30pm) and i am ready for sleep. my throat is itchy and dry deep down. when i cough i sound like an old smoker man. its grotesque. it is nearing june and i cant be sick. more vitamin c. and sleep.
i pray health your way.

as i lay me down to sleep

i sleep on the floor when i am in need of a changed perspective and a revival of spirit when my prayers lack passion. i have been doing this for years now. it is the easist way i know how to shut myself off from distraction and to find myself again at the feet of the Lord. not magically healed by break of dawn, it is only a simple gesture of my desire and a reaction to an invitiation. a bed can be too safe. too comfortable. and i, a sleeper of many beds and many floors, do not desire comfort for comforts sake. i want to be open and exposed. pushed to my limits. i find comfort in my uncomfortability.

during my second year at spu i slept more on the floor and in that hideous orange flea market chair than in my top bunk. i am thankful that my roommate was from ellensburg.she didnt find it too odd. and then there was the house on 56th street. a four foot love seat for nine months in the basement of a molding duplex. i slept in a ball a bodies length away from the dryer. my clothing in cardboard boxes, flowery fabric and african prints hanging on the walls and along the staircase to allow a little bit of privacy. even with other options, all of these i chose. i find comfort in my uncomfortability. i find joy in my pain.

i slept on the floor last night in my room in stuttgart. it was my simple offering. my response to an invitation and an attempt to sort out mind thoughts. heartspeak ..around 22:30 my eyes drew heavy and my body snug on my flannel sheets. i tried to close my eyes. to pray. i couldnt. i threw my top blanket to the ground and rolled onto the light blue linoleum like flooring. i prayed. i could. i managed a few utterings of perhaps own selfishness, which to me in my own life at this very moment are real and raw and not to be taken lightly, but in the greater scheme of things i recognize not the importance of these silly prayers.

across the land to the east, atleast 40,000 have no shelter tonight. the aftermath of the burma cyclone. and i, refuse my bed.