(and who you is, is not who you think)
i think of running through fields and getting slushies and bringing them everywhere, and singing in the car with your hair blowing in the wind. i think of boys and i think of parties and of lusting after love. i think of loud laughs and soft music. i think of being high and jumping on a cold tile floor. so much life pumping through such little veins, someone once said people suffer from one of two things: too much life or not enough. i wish i knew you. what makes you.. what makes you sad? how do you feel when you are alone? what time do you wake up? what runs through your mind? what is something you do every day? i guess i am obsessed with this image that might not exist, and yet it makes me feel at ease. it feels so familiar, wondering these things.
"Hospitality, therefore, means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to bring men and women over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing lines. It is not to lead our neighbor into a corner where there are no alternatives left, but to open a wide specturm of options for choicee and commitment. It is not an educated intimidation with good books, good stories and good works, but the liberation of fearful hearts so that words can find roots and bear ample fruit."
ReplyDelete-Henri Nouwen from "Reaching Out"
it's a pretty legit book.
i don't know if i love anything more than this post. anything. at all. . .
ReplyDeletein love with this
ReplyDelete