Rêve

I dreamed a dream in time gone by / When hope was high / And life worth living / I dreamed that love would never die / I dreamed that God would be forgiving / Then I was young and unafraid / And dreams were made and used and wasted / There was no ransom to be paid / No song unsung, no wine untasted... ~I Dreamed A Dream, Les Miserables

I dream a lot. 

It's something I've dealt with ever since I was about four years old, and I discovered books. 

It was like a door burst open in my soul...I found myself entirely unable to reign in my imagination. 

Since then, I have come to my own conclusion.

Everyone's a dreamer.

We all have our secret longings, whether we're willing to admit them or not.

Some of us are more expressive with our dreams. We write bucket lists, pouring our innermost longings into our imaginings, be they exceptionally easy or intensely complicated to achieve.

They are all different, depending on the dreamer, but every wish and every heartcry has one thing in common.

There is passion locked behind each and every dream.

Maybe it's something we found in the pages of a book, a winding forest path lined with fairies and mysterious flowers found nowhere else.

Or perhaps it's something we were born to explore...a familial heritage that we too seek to achieve. 

 

Regardless of the dream, no matter what the wish may be, there is one thing that remains the same. 

Your way is secure. 

Your path is laid by the hand of the ultimate Waymaker, the One who sets the world to turning.

He sees your heart and knows your dreams.  

So don't be afraid. 

Rest. 

Be still.  

Embrace the silence.

Let go

and dream. 

“Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.” ~Ephesians 4:20

(Also, don't forget about the giveaway. Only ten days left to enter to win some beautiful jewelry.)
(Guest posting here this week!)

Ruby

I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being. ~Oscar Wilde

Today is another OZ! rehearsal.

I know I haven't blogged about it a lot since it began, minus a small introductory post, posted in a fit of intense exhaustion the night of auditions

Really, I think it's because I at one point was trying to keep my personal life away from this blog. I didn't want to be the kind of person who chronicled the details of my day-by-day existence, simply because that wasn't the point behind this blog in the beginning.

But honestly, this show means a lot to me....maybe even more than any other production I've worked on thus far. That's a hard thing to say, given how many shows I've been a part of in my almost twenty-one years of life, but I think it might be true for this one.

OZ! is a bucket list item that I've finally managed to check off.

Number 43: direct my first musical. 

We open in one month from Tuesday. My 21st birthday, September 23rd, will be spent fulfilling a lifelong dream. 

It has been so incredibly hard. Much harder than I ever could have envisioned at the beginning. And I'm sure that, as this show continues to progress, I will have more and more and more and more and more moments of varying levels of emotion.

Every director has a roller-coaster that we ride from the very first day.

Yes! This is going to be amazing!

This is NEVER going to get done.

We are so far ahead!

I can't do this; it's just too hard!

I know that I have already run the gambit of these feelings more than once, and I promise that I will be doing it again in the near future. 

I have cried so many tears to my Love in frustration over this show.

I have hosted small one-person dance parties in my kitchen in the utter elation of success. 

It's what happens in theatre. 

It's a dream come true.

And so, as the weeks pass and rehearsals come heavy and fast, I will continue to click my ruby-clad heels together and whisper

there's no place like home.  

Cadeau (Gift) {33-40}

If you give what can be taken, you are not really giving.  Take what you are given, not what you want to be given.  Give what cannot be taken.  ~Idries Shah

It hardly seems possible that another week has come and gone.

I wonder if time is playing tricks on me...speeding up and slowing down however it wishes, if only to lure me into a false sense of security before pouncing upon me in some strange and unnoticed way.

Each week, as I take stock of the occurrences which now fill the path behind me, I am caught up in the awe and wonder that is my life...and that is my God.

My life is full of beauty. For all the heartache, struggles, and pain that I with which I war daily...there is so much light kissing the edges of the shadows, and making them seem so much less frightening.

• 33. Waiting by the mailbox patiently all week long, only to open the small copper door and finally find the most beautifully penned note for which I have been tirelessly waiting...as I have said, it is the small things.
• 34. An evening of fun with people whom I care deeply about...putting aside myself for just a few hours, donning a hand-stitched cape and dramatically swirled eye makeup, and joining the leagues of justice for a more-than-delightful Heroes and Villains murder mystery party. 
• 35. 11:11 and eyelash wishes. Perhaps a bit of foolishness...more than a gentle reminder to think and pray for you.
• 36. Raspberry lemon ice and oreo-M&M shakes with my daddy after a particularly frustrating rehearsal. Tucked in a blue and white booth, laughing over nothing and mutually missing my mother and sister...such comfort only my daddy can provide. 
• 37. Captain America, too much popcorn and Diet Pepsi, with a bag of M&Ms to share between us...I will never to get too old to share 3D glasses and date night with my daddy. 
• 38. Waking up to Owl City ringtones and the most perfect sunrise...even though I am still confused why my alarm was set to 5:30am. Even still, the glory of the heavens and the paint from the hands of my King made it all worth it in the end. 
• 39. The realization that I can't carry everything by myself...that I have a God who's big enough to carry me and everything else. And on mornings this like...I am clinging to this truth like I'm drowning. For me, and for those I love. 
• 40. Letting God crack the door to the poetic corners of my heart this week..feeling Him cut away at my silent, struggling voice. I am Moses...I cannot speak well. He is making me Deborah. 

I am trying to gaze at the bigger picture. I am letting go of my own mentality of "this is now, and this is all it will ever be."

My life is watercoloured clouds. 

First glance, it is simple, basic, and easily explained.

But now

I am tones of pink and gold and blue and silvery green.

These are my gifts...

...these watercolour clouds. 

See, I am doing a new thing. Now it is springing up; can you not perceive it?I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." ~Isaiah 43:19

Musing {24-32}

A man is not idle because he is absorbed in thought.  There is a visible labor and there is an invisible labor  ~Victor Hugo

The beginning of another week has arrived. And with it, the start of a fresh page on the calender. It is so very strange for me to realize that we are already in the eighth month of 2011.

The way time passes is, in itself, a blessing for me. No matter what happens, I always know that the sun will set and rise again on a new day. Time is a constant, regardless of what I do or what decisions I make in each day.

But as always, this past week has overflowed with so many beauties that I can hardly bare to see this week come to an end. It was another watercolour week...one blessing after another, blending together to paint the most stunning portrait...another adornment on the wall of my life.

• 24. The official beginning of OZ!...a tumultuous read-through crammed with details and information, bursting with whispers of the next two dramatically theatrical months to come. 

• 25. A surprise package bursting with a six-page epistle and a beautifully scented patched of knitty goodness from the heart of a precious friend...one of those reminders that I'm not alone, and I am loved.

• 26. Three nights, interspersed throughout the week, but three nights of sleep all nightmare-free. There is such beauty in rest, such a deep sense of peace found when one lays herself down into the hands of the King, trusting on Him to bear all the restlessness.   

• 27. The start of a new Inspired Monthly Giveaway...another chance to lose oneself in whimsy and beautiful things, immersed in stunning talent from the workbenches of others. 

• 28. Hearing a Word, straight from the heart of the King of the world...the sweetest balm for my soul..."See, I am doing a new thing. Now it is springing up; can you not perceive it?I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." (Isaiah 43:19)

• 29. Rediscovering my seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer after almost a year-long lack of viewing. Sometimes, dusting off old fictional friends is a sweet reminder of days gone by and dreams once imagined. 

• 30. Brand-new brown and teal swirled dayplanners, lemon drop fudge with a sprinkling of sugar, and neatly organized theater schedules. 

• 31. Laughter. 

• 32. My niece resting her head on my shoulder, tucking her thumb contentedly in her mouth, and clinging to me with a little sigh of infant sleepiness...gazing over my shoulder at the world of cardboard boxes. 

Each time a new month starts, I cannot help but wish to look ahead, to see what might be in store for me in the coming thirty-one days of life. To start August off in such a way...to be surrounded with so many blessings...I can wish for no better way to begin a month. 

As my list of blessings grows longer, I am reminded of what a beautiful thing this life is...what a beautiful place this world is...and oh, what an even more splendid Home awaits me in days to come. 

This is a watercolour list...

...in my watercolour world. 

It is a good idea to be alone in a garden at dawn or dark so that all its shy presence may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought.  ~James Douglas


(For this post, I'm linking up with Carissa at lowercase letters.) 

Detailed

The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.  ~Henry Miller

In a recent blog post, I asked my readers to comment with any and all questions they may have regarding me, my blog, my delights, or any sort of random conglomeration they could concoct.

Before you ask, no, this is not the post in which I will be answering those questions. In fact, that particular post is still open and available for more curiosities to be posed, and will be until the end of the week.

This post is a reflection of one thought-slash-question that was posed to me by a dear friend and fellow blogger. In paraphrase, the questioning statement was this:

You see such vastness and reflective beauty in such small, everyday things. How?  


I suppose that the answer is as vast and as simple as the question itself.

I just do.

Allow me to explain.

Ever since I was a very little girl, I have been captivated by this world, and by the small things to be found within each passing moment.

The delicate placement of a golden green leaf against the cracked sidewalk...the way a butterfly's wings feel as they brush your face in a brief moment of on-the-nose landing...the jewel tones of light reflecting through an old glass bottle.

Each of these things exist to be experienced. Any man can be a poet if he would only open his eyes...any woman can become an artist with her words if only she will take off her sunglasses and inhale.

I gaze with chagrin at a world that is lost in cynicism. We were placed here by the Hand of the Mightiest One of all...the most passionate Artist and the most beautiful Poet in this universe.

His beauty is inexpressible. The world only seeks to cast the barest shadow of His glory...and even these things fade into darkness in His brilliance.

I want to soak in His details.

I want to lose myself in His rapture.

That is how I want to live my life....

...as naturally as breathing.

"He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the steadfast love of the LORD. By the word of the LORD the heavens were made, and all their host by the breath of his mouth." ~Psalm 33:5-6

Eté

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.  ~John Lubbock

I feel so enraptured with summertime this afternoon.

Sitting here on the couch, my short legs tucked up underneath me...

...shoulders and feet bare to the caress of the wind...

...sunlight streaming in through the partially-opened screen door...

...two very energetic dogs playing beside me...

...sipping at the tart sweetness of a pomegranate IZZE soda and nibbling at the corner of a dark-chocolate-raspberry swirled square of decadence...

...I feel lost in the wonder that is summer.

There are sweet and beautiful memories that I have already made with people that mean the world to me, and those that I will continue to make in the coming months.

There are pictures to be taken, green tea to be sipped, and shady trees to be climbed.

There are new novels in which I must lose myself, and an end-of-an-era premieres at which I must weep until my eyes ache.

There are fresh strawberries to be bitten and savoured, and the aroma of flowers to inhale.

There is so much sweetness to take in before the silvery winter with its peppermint snow comes again.

Summer is barely half over, and there are still one hundred and one dreams to be chased.

Estate.

夏

Verano.

Eté.

Summer.

I question not if thrushes sing,

If roses load the air;

Beyond my heart I need not reach

When all is summer there.

~John Vance Cheney  

gifts {1-7}

I have learned to cease my despising of Mondays.

Yes, for the majority of the world (myself included), Mondays are the bane of our existence.

Back to work. Back to school. Back to the daily grind of all things "weekday"...the departure from the simple restfulness that is the weekend.

Monday's seem to capture all the unspoken troubles of weekends past, and transform them into some doubly horrific and unbearably stressful.

I understand this. I have lived through countless Mondays in my 20 years, and I know I have many more to come. In fact, I struggle with allowing myself to sink into depression at the state of the week, becoming overwhelmed with all I have faced, and that which I have yet to endure in the days ahead.

But I am changing my focus...redirecting my viewpoint from my weary feet and upwards toward the Cross.

So for me, and for this blog, Mondays will now be our time to remember....to enjoy...to take in the gifts that the King has brought upon us.

1,000 of them, to be exact. Perhaps only two or three, perhaps more than a dozen at a time. Each Monday, I will count my blessings...to one thousand and perhaps even beyond.

1. The lovely roll of thunder to which I awoke
2. The sweet familiar smell of my pillow beneath my head
3. Sweet puppy kisses on my toes, and golden eyes looking up at me with love as I write
4. The discovery of IZZE at a local convinience store, almost 60 miles closer than I thought
5. A loving text from someone I hold dear, reminding me once again that I am not alone, that I am not fighting this uphill battle alone
6. The stunning melody of instrumental piano on a friend's blog, which currently fills my ears as I compose this post. 
7. Awakening to read Isaiah 43:2-3, and inhaling the promise of my Savior's enduring love as thought it was the most perfect and delicate of perfumes. 

Mondays are full of all things beautiful, just as are the other days of the week. In fact, Monday is the ribbon on the package that is a new week. 

When the first rays of sun dawn on a Monday, it is the first tug of that parcel binding. When the thunder rolls, it is God tearing open the paper, revealing a new beginning, without a single mistake upon the page. 

This idea was inspired by the beautiful and delightfully outspoken Sarah and her lovely corner of the internet: Emerging Mummy...and what a thought it was. To reach beyond the veil and touch the face of God...to receive His love instead of casting down makeshift curses. 

And that is where I shall begin. Pen in hand, my Beloved King at my side, and new mercies as the dawn. 

I encourage each of you to do the same. There is no button for this challenge...no specific tag of any kind. But the prize? The prize is greater than any giveaway I could ever concoct. 

The prize is joy. Peace. Delight. Blessing. 

The chance to take a long, slow breath...if only for just this one moment. 

Happy Monday, my loves. 

This day is not a curse...

...it is a new beginning...

...the ultimate blessing. 

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.” ~Lamentations 2:22-24

Inspire

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes.  Art is knowing which ones to keep.  ~Scott Adams


One thing that I get asked more than anything is how I get so much inspiration...how it seems like I have an endless pot of artistry, and it flows from me in a copious amount.


I will be honest...I really have no such thing.


I run out of inspiration on a regular basis. I start posts constantly that never find their way to being published onto the blog. 


I try to write pen-to-paper, or rather, fingers-to-keys...not letting my overly-analytical brain to get in the way of my dreamer's heart.


But, to my own deep regret, I turn my nose up at my own work and allow it to sit without ever seeing the light of day. 


There are so many things that inspire me, though...so many things that move my fingers to dart a new path across the keys. 

• Summer days, complete with lemonade and fresh-picked orchard fruit
• Those people in my life who love me, comfort me, and reassure me...who bless me beyond compare. 
• Rainy afternoons, the chorus of raindrops beating against the windowpane, the percussion of thunder acting as the perfect accompaniment. 
• The melodic streams of Owl City and Imogene Heap flowing out from my rolled-down car window into the humid summertime air. 
• The sweetest scents of vanilla, white jasmine, and lilac...the kiss of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and cinnamony peach cobbler...the natural scents of damp soil and blossoming tea roses. 
• The words from my favorite book...reminders that there is more to life than facts and numbers...parchment letters from Hogwarts, back-of-wardrobe fancies that may just lead me to my long-chased Narnian home, and the floral gardens of Jane Austen romance.

These things are my bliss...rich and sweet, strong and deep

These are my inspiration...full of light, rich with power.  

These are the gifts of my loving King...the soft whisper of my Savior reminding me that He cares for me closely.

This world is hard and strange and can feel, oh, so empty. 

But there are gifts here. 

There is love here. 

There is glory here. 

There is inspiration here. 

Art is a collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better.  ~André Gide

Bucket

In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own.  ~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban


I have a Bucket List. 


Actually, I think more people have bucket lists than they're willing to admit. 


After all, at first glance, it might seem silly to have a little list of all our secret hopes and dreams...


...some tiny, some huge, most insignificant to those around us.


In fact, I never planned on sharing my own personal Bucket List with the world. My list is eclectic, artsy, random...maybe, to any eye that isn't mine, it might even seem trite or foolish.


But then a post & fabulous Bucket List themed giveaway over at (life's too short not to)wear red shoes inspired me to stop being so selfish...so insecure...so uptight. I bear my soul on this blog all the time...no reason that I cannot share my dreams with the world, as well.


And so...here is a sampling...a taste, if you will...of the dreams I must meet before I "kick the bucket," some of which were born when I was a very little girl.

1.       Visit every continent AT LEAST once (North America and South America have been achieved...the rest are still to come)

2.      Read every Brian Jacques novel ever written

3.      Visit “The Wonderful Wizarding World of Harry Potter” AND buy my own wand.

4.      Cook my way through “The Art of French Cooking” by Julia Child

5.      Have dinner at the “Eagle & Child” in C.S. Lewis' booth

6.      Take AT LEAST one semester of classes at Oxford University

7.      Go skydiving, bungee jumping, or SOMETHING that requires me to leap from a very high location

8.      Visit every state in the Union.

9.      Adopt a Peruvian child

10.   Get a tattoo

11.    Learn how to make French macaroons PERFECTLY

12.   Have a handwritten-letters penpal with someone I have never met in real life.  (Grace Doolittle, June 30^th, 2011)

13.   Visit the Holy Land

14.   Write a novel that actually gets published.

15.   Make it onto the New York Time’s Best Seller list

16.   Learn how to French braid

17.   Ride an elephant

18.   Perform as the Witch in Into the Woods

19.   Perform in Wicked as ANY role

20.  Visit the Eifel Tower

21.   Visit Machu Pichu

22.  Have dinner at Caprial and John Pence’s Supper Club

23.  Meet Paula Deen AND cook with her

24.  Meet J.K. Rowling

25.  See Owl City in concert (June 30^th, 2011, Summerfest 2011)

26.  See Imogene Heap in concert

27.  Attend culinary school

28.  Get. My. Degree.

29.  Stand on a Broadway stage

30.  Meet Douglas Gresham AND have a conversation with him

31.   Meet Adam Young AND have a conversation with him

32.  Take an art class and actually apply myself this time

33.  Get to the point that I am reading my Bible every day habitually

34. Perform in "Les Miserables" in some capacity

35.  Direct a theatrical performance (Hansel and Gretel, Opening Night 9/24/2010)

36.  Open my own Etsy shop

Yes, these things may seem silly. Odd. I know they are truly a random collection of dreams, woven of my own heartstrings and overly vivid imagination. 


But I don't care. 


These are my dreams. These are my goals. 


And you can't make me smaller. 


My heart is just too big.


Let go of the world you know, and plug in the party lights / Soak your cares in the solar flares that light up these island nights / Orange eclipse, I can taste your lips in the citrus afternoon / If you can fly, don't stop at the sky, / 'cause there's footprints on the moon ~The Yacht Club, Owl City