Im looking for something profound to write. All to often I sit down to write and expect to be the next great writer. The Saint Augustine of today. I think part of that comes from my desire to be remembered. I want to have an effect on the world. In fact, I want to change the world.

I have felt for a long time now that God has something big planned for me. I can't figure out how it is to play out though. Once, I remember very distinctly God was trying to tell me something. I wanted more of Him, I wanted the kind of relationship with Him that the heros of Christendom had. I wanted what everyone else had with God. Then He stopped me short and told me something. He said He wanted a relationship with me that was special. I wanted what everyone else had, He wanted what no one else had. A relationship unique to me.

Have I attained that yet?, I don't know, I don't think so. It is hard to reach a point when you don't know what it is you are reaching. I still believe I have yet to get there. Maybe when I get to where I am going with God I will have done something big, maybe I will have changed the world. Or maybe I already am and I can't see it. Maybe I spend to much time trying to figure out God, at least it keeps me busy.

-Art

2 days ago I was walking along the top of a mountain, or rather near the top, expecting I was going to soon see the world in its beauty. From high above I anticipated seeing what God see's, the good in light of the bad. I was feeling pretty good, but I wasn't paying attention. For it is then that I began my decent into the valley of apathy. With every step I took I slid back without even recognizing that I was getting further away from where I needed to be.

Apathy is dangerous, I can feeling closing in all the time, and it takes all my effort to resist. I so desire to give in, to sit down and rest in nothing. But I am running, or as close to it as I can get. It is like running in the mud, a veritable struggle to lift each leg from the suction of the muck. In times like these I feel so far from God, though perhaps I am at my closest with Him, for I know that it is only through His provision that I have the strength to go on.

I am writing this no to concern everyone that reads this, nor do I desire to pull you in with me, because in the valley of apathy there can be many or there can be one, and it wouldn't matter cause you don't care. Rather I write to keep my head and my focus. In writing I remember and recognize those things that keep me from slowing. It is my friends, those that I love that beckon me on. It is the ones you never expected to listen that not only listen but listen with care that give me a boost and allow me to break the face of apathy with a smile. And its the ones that listened all the time, even when you had nothing to say, that help me to remain constant. And it is those that I may not see but I know keep me in memory and prayer that allow me to rest without falling prey to the valleys wiles.

Im not out yet, but I am hopeful that the end is near. Thank you all.

-Art

I love writing. I always have. I can remember writing or drawing everytime I had a writing implement and paper. I even used to journal, but I could never seem to stick with that one. Inevitably my writing was all transformed to some form of poetry or lyric. Journaling never lasted for me for one specific reason. I couldn't and still can't grasp the idea of writing something that no one is going to look at.

I believe that when you write something it is because you desire to tell someone something. That at some point, at some time, either down the road or just across the street, you want what you have written to be read. Often times there is abit of fear in us to disclose our inmost secrets to a person formally and in person, so we write them down. Yet, just because we write them down doesn't mean we don't want them to be read. It is only a question of time. If you wanted your secrets to remain a secret you wouldn't have written them down in the first place. The best kept secrets between 3 men are when 2 of them are dead. I believe that was Ben Franklin, though I could be wrong.

As for me, my time is now, my thoughts and secrets are here, and my fear extends only as far as my signature.

-Art