Truth. What is truth?

"What is truth, Claudia? Do you hear it, recognize it when it is spoken?"
"Yes, I do. Don't you?"
"How? Can you tell me?"
"If you will not hear the truth, no one can tell you."
"Truth... do you want to know what my truth is, Claudia? I've been putting down rebellions in this rotten outpost for eleven years. If I don't condemn this man I know Caiphas will start a rebellion. If I do condemn him, then his followers may. Either way, there will be bloodshed. Caeser has warned me, Claudia. Warned me twice. He swore that the next time the blood would be mine. That is my truth!"

This quote is from the Passion of the Christ. It's my favorite.

The discussion of truth intrigues me. I'm not really sure why. Really, what is truth? Can I hear it? Can I see it? Can I feel it? Some things in life I hear and I think..."that has to be truth." It goes right to my heart and pierces it. Other times truth can go unsaid...I just feel it. Truth scares me sometimes. I don't want to know what's real. I don't want to hear honest words. Why are lies so much more satisfying? Why are they the substitute for the truth? I make myself sick sometimes. I want people to be real and yet I don't want to be real with them. Granted I am very real with people in general. I'd be more quick to look and make my own judgements. My own truth. Not knowing the whole truth about them. When someone is real with me( for my own good), it hurts and I get upset because I know what they are telling me is truth.
If I know truth and want truth, why do I believe the lies inside? The ones that tell me I'm a misfit and I'll never belong anywhere. My insecurities, my fears, my failures.... Perhaps I really don't know what truth is. Some lies are the truth to some people. Is what I believe or think or feel, or want or reason truth or a lie? What if everything I grew up knowing, and thinking turned out to be a lie? But it was my truth.
Do we pass over truth because it's so trivial? I'm constantly in search for it. In people, in thoughts, in life... Becoming an adult is hard. Finding who I am is one thing, but finding the truth is another. And everything relies on it. On truth. If I don't know what the truth is, than what do I know? And who am I? And who are you? And what is life? And what do I believe in? And why?....endless questions...endless confusion. So tell me, what is truth?

Listening through the chaos.

One of my favorite things to do is put my headphones in when I'm in a crowded room, and listen to something calm(like beautiful piano music or something expressive) and watch the chaos. Maybe it's not chaos, but there are a million different things going on. Conversations, interactions, noises. And I feel as if I'm off some place else, looking in at that crowded space.
I usually find words are useless to me. I have come up with other ways of expressing myself.
I make music, sing a song, dance, draw...all are ways of expressing ones self.
Take deep breaths, lay there quietly. Do you hear silence?
Life is almost impossible to live without music. Some sort of stable calm...
My headphones and music in a crowded room remind me that there are bigger things than what I see. A bigger picture. Is life only a crowded room and chaos? Is it the calm music inside the chaos? ......Have I lost you yet?
Have I thought my life out? No. It changes everyday for me. I don't know what kind of person I want to be because I already am a person. If I change so be it. If not, well, this is me. I've been this way a while.
I hate the question, "Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" My reply..."I have no freaking idea." I could be so many different things. I could be so many different places. Why plan out my entire life and miss it? You set expectations for yourself and you get disappointed. Everyone has an idea of the way they want life to look. I'd prefer my life to have a deeper meaning then going to college, getting a good job, making money, getting married, having kids, living good. Then I wake up one morning and realize I have nothing. I am nothing. From then on I either live off in another world or kill myself. And who wants that? Not me. I'll take the calm music inside the chaos. Watching everyone else...waiting for something else...living as something else...

So much for my history homework...

It's been a long day. Everything has pretty much gone right...I think. But I don't like long days...I have no time to think...or too much time maybe. I just get tired.
I started to cry in ballet. I felt my eyes burning as the teacher was demonstrating glissades and assembles. I did the moves fine. The entire time we were at the bar I felt like a screw up. When the teacher corrects you it's supposed to be a learning experience, and I just took it as an insult. I kept telling myself in my head that I am not insecure. I felt insecure...
I came home feeling irritable. Nothing was funny and everything was serious. I have no idea why. A few little things happened after that that only heightened my mood. Now I'm just pissing everyone off and I kind of have no idea why.
So many things to do and so little time. So many things to figure out. I'm not worried about anything and that's what scares me. Maybe I should be.
I am a little worried about getting this homework done. Ha.
Simply existing. How terrible and frightening that is. No direction, no goal, no purpose. Wouldn't that be horrible? I feel like that sometimes. I think everyone does.
I have so many things inside that I could talk about and voice. I find myself telling people I hardly know because I've kept it in. And then I think, why did I tell them that? Strangers are sometimes the best people to talk to, you know? I mean, they don't know you. They can't judge you or think of you differently cause they don't have anything to go off of and they haven't the slightest clue about you. That's why they invented counselors. Ha. You're just paying a stranger to listen to you. I find that humorous by the way. People will do anything for someone to listen...care.
Well I suppose I should get to my history.

P.S. Ihop is giving short stacks for free tomorrow.

In my dreams...

Lying in my bed looking up at the ceiling.
Trying to to push everything out of my mind.
I'm so tired and I can't even doze off.
My head is reeling.
I have so many unanswered questions.
So many fears.

I ask God if He's listening.
I tell Him how horrible it is down here sometimes.
How unsafe I feel.
I begin to cry...

Sleep is only a distraction for me.
Someplace unreal to go.
In my dreams nothing can hurt, or sting.
I feel safe again.
I dream of somewhere far from here.
Of places beautiful, no pain is near.
I am whoever I want to be.
I can do anything without them stopping me.
But I cannot sleep and I cannot dream.
I am so weary.
So distraught.

I would give anything for a little peace of mind.
But I know it will not come.
Again, I ask Him if He's listening.
Because I don't think He is...

Magic, Adventures, and Russia.

I've been pondering this for a very long time. I've always wanted to be Russian. Ok, not always, but a long time. My roots are European, but I think the closest I get to Russian is Romanian. Russia has always felt magical to me. Everyones idea of Russia, is cold, dark, and suppressed. I've met people from there and have studied Russia well. It's such a fascinating place to me. Magical.

Six years ago, a young eleven year old Belarusian boy came to stay with my family. He was scared, knew no English, and was very far away from his country. Long story short, we bonded with him. Sergei is a huge part of our lives. Though we haven't seen him in 3 years, he still writes us, and we write him.

As far as adventures go, I feel as if I'm about to take one. We can no longer bring the Belarusian children to us, so why not go to them? There is a camp in Belarus that the Belarusian children go to for a normal summer camp. We go to share the love of Jesus with them, and to share our personal stories with them and mentor them. Sergei is going to that camp this year. The camp is July 9th. By then, Sergei will be 17, and I will be turning 19 there, if I go. This is where my heart has been for awhile, and I am excited about this opportunity. The adventurous part about this trip is, it will take me three days just to get to Belarus, and if I am caught talking about Jesus guess where I go? Yep, to prison. That scares most people, but I think it's kind of awesome.
Anyway, I just wanted to share. Sergei sent us a letter recently along with some pictures. I can't believe he's going to be 17 and graduating. In Belarus, the grades only go up to 11. I wish that's how it was here. Hopefully I will be able to go back with him after camp to meet his family and see his life there.
I better brush up on my Russian.

By the Grace in His eyes.

I walk in to a room of familiar people. I'm feeling a little shy. I walk in distant, waiting for a 'hi' or my name to be called. Someone calls it, I recieve a hug. I go to hug someone else in return, and I am rejected by a few words. I withdrawl. I turn to leave, but I don't. I stay.

An hour goes by. This game is old. I go sit and wait for the music to start, and suddenly am very cold. I go find a sweater and walk back in the room after hearing a few words of encouragement. A song is playing...

The song tells me I am loved. But why? And how? I am disturbed. I'm confused. He loves me. He loves me....I hang my head and walk in quietly. I withdrawl again. I sit in my chair. I picture every word being said. Grace, redemption, love. I am overwhelmed and at peace. I picture His affection, His love for me. The grace in His loving eyes. His eyes that are looking and calling me.... I quickly push the image away. What about today? Does He know what I've done? The stupid mistakes? The anger I feel? He can't want me. Why would anyone want me? The voices fill my mind, telling me what a waste I am. Then in the background I hear 'Oh, how He loves....". And I stop. The voices vanish. The image returns to my mind and I see His eyes again...He's still waiting. Waiting for who? For me? I begin to melt into His grace. I can't resist any longer. My heart beats fast and my chest feels like it's being ripped open. There is no time to think about my regrets and mistakes when I think about how He loves me...
The death that lives here in this world and on earth...the agony we feel. He still loves. He's still there. The world rejects you, I have rejected you. Yet, You still love...

I awake from this vision, this thought, and begin to sing the words I was once rejecting. Oh, how He loves...

Life can be painful.

I feel like a sinking boat.

Im slowly decaying.

The world is spinning.

And I've gone missing.

I'm tossing and turning.

Flying so high.

I hit a small bump,

and I fall from the sky.

I hit the very bottom,

and look up at so many faces.

I see nothing but darkness,

and shadows of distant places.

Oh dear, what can I do.

I try to use my wings,

I try to fly.

And I even sing to myself,

as the time goes by.

I'll get up as soon

 as I can catch my breath,

and before the lights go out...

I won't be caught by death.