Saturday Boosts...

Some things to invigorate you spiritually this weekend:

1. My friend Ally of the blog "Pans and Pickpockets" has such a way with WORDS
2.  A thought on SILENCE
3.  This SONG by Trip Lee:

Old & New

Hello world.

I like the old & new.

It's the perfect combination

of history 

and possibility.

Buildings tell such stories

with their crusty bricks

and cracked corners,

faded signs and peeling paint...

Our lives do the same.

These wrinkles tell my story.

Of my cries and joys.

My favorites are my smile wrinkles.

(You can never have too many of those.)

Who I was is not who I am.

And the same to you.

But what we hold from the past 

affects our forward motion.

So I'll hold on to trials that made me stronger,

to people who stretched my character,

to memories that built my house,

my foundation,

and I'll keep Christ as my cornerstone.

Tunnels and Such.

Untitled from Joshua Porter on Vimeo.
So, thanks to my buddy Alissa, 

who gave me some solid advice the other day,

I went on a hike.

You know,

One of those mind clearing

cold, refreshing,

digestive hikes.

My "lil sis" Kt and I grabbed our flashlight,

Pulled on our beanies,

And stuffed my bag with water and gloves.

The sun was hanging low when we set off,

and the trail was wide.

It seemed like everyone 

was coming back to their cars to warm up

and turn on their heaters

While we strode on the crunchy dirt path

Wrapping around the mountains,

winding away from the world,

away from the noise.

It was just me

and Kt

And our crunching footsteps.

And then we reached the tunnels.

They were a lot darker when we neared them.

Sort of ominous.

But beautiful.

So we went into the dark 

and talked of life

and fears

and struggles

and joys

and stupid humor

and you know what?

In the cold air,

and amidst the crunching beneath us

I could feel life swelling into my lungs again;

it was the sensation of living in rawness

and embracing reality.

Thank you, Alissa,

And thank you, Kt,

And thank you,

cold 
beautiful 
night.

I had a dream.

I love how music transports you somewhere.

Somewhere without time or need or anxiety.

It makes me feel again.

I can remember a time in my life when I drew deep within myself.

I disconnected from everything I could ever feel 

just to find relief from the pain of betrayal

of shame and hurt.

Being numb is one of most frightening experiences I've ever had.

You lose sight of what matters and begin to embrace emptiness

As if it's the way we were meant to be.

But it's not.

We were meant to feel.

To feel and ache and long and love.

Losing touch with that slowly kills us from the inside.

I'm amazed how Christ called me back,

back from the disconnect

from the isolation, the complete alienation and coldness I let cover me.

And He did it with music.

It's songs like these that bring me to life.

They haunt with small truths

and a beautiful simplicity,

Letting me feel and hurt, but never alone.

No, never alone.

We've still got time...

Music...

I get lost in it all
And never want to leave.


Like raising cold water to closed eyelids
I am washed
I am rinsed
I am awakened


And yet I dream.

Rest Here.

It's time for a vacation.

In March of 2009, I did a drive up to Lompoc, California to visit my Grandparents. It's north of Santa Barbara and right along the coast.
It was beautiful.

The best part was when I was driving along Pacific Coast Highway with the windows rolled down - my hair flicking around my face, my skin swallowing the moist air. It refreshes your soul.

I need that right now. Or something like it.
This semester is finally coming to a close and all I can think of is how badly I want to touch my toes to the cool Pacific and lean against Tanner on the shore. I want to feel the sun on my hair and sip some chilled wine. No obligations, no phones, no worries. Just us. Living. Breathing. And Listening.

I don't listen enough.

The shore makes a music all its own. I miss it. It just makes me want to be quiet for once and go silently exploring on the wet sand against the cliffs of Refugio Beach, stepping across the awkward rocks before the tide comes in. It awakens adventurers everywhere.

Let's go.

Beginning small...

Who invented Saturday classes?

Torture.

In an effort to discover some mild form of entertainment or inspiration I have finally decided to begin a blog. Why? Three reasons:

1. I love to write.
2. My life needs some form of documentation right now.
3. Saturday class is hell.

I used to have a diary. Or more of a journal. It was like therapy, writing every night just so I could empty my head of all the chaos keeping me from sleep.

So now I have ten or so journals filled with the strangest thoughts, poems, confessions, and agony of my youthful experiences.

Example Poem:

Red Couch Poem

(6th Grade)

Big and red

Nice and comfy

My couch fled

My rear's lumpy

Miss my couch

Don't like chairs

My couch could be anywhere...

I'm not quite sure what was going on in my life right there.

Well, this feels like a fine place to stop. More randomness to come...