inadequate words

You want to scream, crush something under your fingertips,
Or feel something fragile break between your teeth.
There is a blood spatter on the back of your hand
That won’t come off no matter how hard you scrub.
There is dirt under the blunt ends of your fingernails
From the day you cracked completely
Baring your teeth to the sky which yielded no answers to your silent questions.

There is a weight on your soul and it bears down like a iron chain around your heart. There are two hands of fear that have wrapped their lanky fingers around your throat, and squeezed the life giving oxygen right out of your godforsaken lungs.
—  the cry of a soldier | a.h.
"at least you have good hair"

Is a phrase that makes me want to slap you. Because of people like you, i have to always convince my friends to not quit their transitioning journey, and talk them out of a perm, because y'all are the same people who tell them to “comb their hair” or ask if they’re gonna straighten it anytime soon. You make them feel like their hair, by itself, is inadequate. You use words like “wild” and “nappy” in a very distasteful & pejorative manner. You tell me that I should be happy that I’m “blessed with a good grade of hair”. Are you saying that 4c hair isn’t a blessing? Fuck you. Don’t ask me if I’m mixed when my hair is flat-ironed. Don’t call her bald-headed because you’re judging her shrinkage. Hair should not be a status symbol. You’re not helping. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

He is my great reward.

Guys, do not exalt your devotion to God over his devotion to you. And by his devotion to you, I’m not just talking about Him creating or dying for you. I’m talking about the little things he does for you now through His Spirit, without even you knowing or acknowledging or thanking Him. You honestly have no idea: and you can’t think, imagine, ask for or even dream. You can only believe, trust and experience it. And if you do, how will you not consequently love Him? I’m finding that He’s beyond words, honestly, and yet these are the very things he’ll accept from me. Words: inadequate as they are: because it is not them that are my righteousness to Him. I do Him no favours that way: He is my righteousness. He is my great reward.

You exist.
Past my own horizons,
On what feels like the edge of the world.
Further than the streets and roads between us;
Yet somehow closer.

You exist.
Brighter than undiscovered stars.
With a smile that lights worlds,
And a touch that sets bodies alight.
In your wake I have smouldered to ash.

You exist.
As a parable, a myth, a bedtime tale…
A collection of words strung together,
By an inadequate poet.
No words could ever do you justice.

You exist.
Both in another’s arms
And in my memories; Simultaneously.
I feel you everywhere I go,
With every painful step.

But you exist.
And that has always been,
And continues to be my reason to smile.
And weather you exist in my world or not -
I will always be forever grateful
… that you exist.

—  Ranata Suzuki, Existential Love
Why Sit?

One might ask “what is the point of sitting meditation?” How can just sitting still have any real benefit for us? Wouldn’t it make more sense to study holy books?

You people who meditate probably expect something. You expect to learn something perhaps. Maybe you expect an emotion. 

Why sit?

Here’s why. You are not going to receive knowledge or feelings. Quieting thought does something which has nothing to do with brain or heart. In fact it cannot be explained in words. Words are inadequate for the task.

There is a strange dichotomy. If you seek you will not find. 

Ladies, be encouraged that the Hebrew word (ezer) that was translated into “helper” in the beginning chapters of Genesis is also translated to mean “strength”, and “power” in many other places in the OT, and many actually believe “helper” to be an inadequate translation of a word that actually indicated that women were not subordinate to men, but rather their equal. 

For the last 36 days, my brother has been home on winter break. It’s incredible how drastically my life improves when Andrew is home. He is, without a doubt, my best friend, the only person I truly connect with on a level that I don’t dare diminish with my inadequate words. I won’t attempt to capture our humor, our mutual understanding of subtle facial gestures, or the sense of perfect calm security I feel when we decide to take a spontaneous trip to Buffalo, knowing full-well that he’ll take complete care of me, regardless of whatever ill-advised decisions we make along the way.

His behavior is the epitome of love, and more than that, he’s the funniest motherfucker with whom I’ve ever had the pleasure of spending time.