holy crap the plantations the imaginary killer in the dark the stars
its been a week of seeing the most of God’s physical manifestation and its ruthlessly infinite and beautiful.
the newman outlook is on the top of the world. i ran there feeling like shit and suddenly being liberated into unexplanable peace. the clouds stripped themselves across the sky and unveiled the orange sun and i sat and loved and ran and then my nose bled profusely lol
we can see the milky way every single day. EVERY SINGLE DAY. we can hike across beebe lake and dirt paths and arboretums for a couple miles at 3 am to see the milky way. you know what that is? that’s.. not even the universe yet. wtf the splendor and absolution of shooting stars and ghostly winds every single freaking night.
when it snows and there won’t be a suspension bridge or adequate ground space, there’s always going to drawing and rpcc and uris or something. and that piano… and cru and purpose and passion. everything is crazy. everything iS.
"No one paints the stars."
#LOL im dumb
Beatrice Jin because I’m amazing and profound.
But its true. Because the stars aren’t for us to master. We get the ground and the trees and the air and we’ve done impossible, emotional, physical things, but we’ll never see the infinity beyond the stars.
its impossible to write about it all
how real and joyful it feels in the crowds of alcohol and escapism that theres a peace right in the middle.
in the unseen plantations at 1 or collegetown at 3 or the waterfall at 5, all in a day of nervousness and settlement. im not being poetic when I say the sky is bigger here. maybe its the altitude or the integration of nature and comstruction but it is impossible to forget the greatness and power of God here. you can see every single star. you can see the freaking milky way, and smile for literal hours because it matters so much more than an inebriated consciousness. you can see shooting stars, literally the infinite universe every day.
we walk everywhere, like several miles up and down 45 degree slopes and it feels like the opposite of torture. we cross the bridges and feel the mist of waterfalls dampen our miserable selves. I ran to cayuga and looked down on the entire campus of cornell and just stared because for all the magic and clarity of the night, the day is hella majestic too.
how weird it is to feel myself care so much about life and meaning and sometimes even articulate that to strangers that seem like friends… even best friends. I do miss you guys. like rocks. but some people here have dope outlooks on life too. im infatuated with it. I hope this doesnt end.
holy crap the agonizing noatalgia at 5:45 on the day of.
its not that I dont want to leave I juat dontwant to leave forever. forever is…. scaryq
okay. Blankets (Craig Thompson) is a 580 page graphic novel about Jesus and drawing and love and snow.
And it is 2 am and I’m staring at these good-bye Naperville posts on Facebook awash in a nostalgia that I know is over optimistic like
this is what good art does it just makes you feel your life.
i am becoming very attached. but what the heck.
maybe thats the point of good friends and running 10 miles in this crazy ass humidity.
There lay our challenge - to find how far we could venture on the icy show before breaking through. We had to step ever so gingerly - like a cat or Jesus walking on the water. Phil thought it was a competition BETWEEN us. In that sense, I most often won… but I knew I wasn’t competing against him, but against myself — against my own clumsy humanity that had lost syncrhonization with the earth.
In that sense, I always lost.
Blankets by Craig Thompson
holy crap life is funny
"In order to belong, we train ourselves to present our “should” face or mask to the outside world, thus giving false clues to others about who we really are. Then we punish others for not understanding us or punish ourselves for not being valued. It is no surprise that there are so many relationship casualties when we consider the ways in which we divide ourselves."
Foreword, The Two Step
now that im sufficiently sobered by chelseas post even without firsthand brohood experience…
lol naperville. with only one exception, there isnt a single year that I didnt want to end and start over. I would never relive that shit again, even if it was sparsed with life changing lessons of forgiveness and pain and kindness and vulnerability. there are 4 days left and you know what I want to spend time remembering? the trees, the lakes, the trails that humbled and broke and built me every day. four years on these sidewalks, crying, soaking, in a distant and close way, feeling peace.
because.. finding peace among the chaotic lives of people and pleasure and schooling is impossible. and theyre all necessary and wonderful, like feelings and chocolate, but theyre supposed to lead you to one conclusion - peace is elsewhere.
people say “its been real, naperville” but for me, it wasnt. its not bad and I dont resent it, but I took a lot longer trying to find myself than most. and im only starting, and feeling awfully hippie ish talking about it. But itll be real soon. Sorry for being fake and scared and too tired to care.
i cant wait.