A picture inspired by a dream

A couple of days ago I had a dream. I was in a generic dream land, and there was quite a bustle about one picture I drew. Some of the feedback was good as I recall, but I pushed my way through the crowd to see the picture. And this was it:

I drew it because I never really see my drawings in my dream, so this was a novel experience (and rare one).

This one doesn't have one original meaning, but I interpret it as a representation of an ironic, yet morbid duality of the nature of human life. Where one person (or people) are experiencing the best time of their lives, someone in the world is experiencing the worst time in their life (maybe even the very last time of their remaining lives). It is a sad thought, but it makes me think about human suffering and how real it is.

We should be more receptive to the sadness of people around us. We may just save them from experiencing the worst moment of their lives alone.

Enemies of the friendless

No church can save you. No building can lift your spirits. No assembly is your friend. When tragedy strikes we come to the knowledge that we are truly alone in the world.

What wisdom can be found in the tales of an individual’s pursuit of friendship beyond the walls of his home? He goes to the church, and it is full of insincere people. They come and go; none will stay to see hear him. They merely perpetuate what pain isolates him in his life.

Is he to be made an object of pity as he generalizes his weakness by divulging to a congregation of strangers. These are not his brothers or sisters, nor friends or neighbors. He does not know them, and they do not wish to know him. They are satisfied with weekly routine, “Good morning”, “How do you do?” Are they really concerned for his well-being when it is much easier to just pass him by with a rhetoric phrase to get on with the rest of their day? Go on and eat, and spend glorious moments with your family and friends. There is absolutely no possibility that the person sitting next to you is suffering loss, instability, insufficiency, or even insecurity.

Is he a victim of self-pity or of life? All people need is a shoulder to cry on; all people seemingly, except for him because he was not fortunate enough to make and grow up with childhood friends, it is surely the only way to enter a person’s exclusive circle before it is formed and fortified. Can love be weighed for value? Are kind favors never purely altruistic, but are done to act as contingencies? It wears the meaning of friendship, and of fellowship.

What is a friend? A friend is someone close to you, a companion, someone to talk to when times are good and also when times are rough. A friend is someone who is genuinely concerned for you and for your happiness. Someone to share thoughts with, and someone to collaborate with. A friend corrects you, but also encourages you. A friend prays with you and for you, but is not bound to prayer alone. A friend calls you to see how you are doing, and is ready to help should a need arise.

A “true friend” is a compliment, not a state of being because no one is perfect, but most of these characteristics can be found in certain people that we regard as close to us. I have not had one of these people in my life, and I probably never will. If God wills it, He will put these people in my life, or, perhaps, He will remain my only friend. In truth, God is our only friend. He remains faithful even when He has every reason to abandon us. He perfectly exemplifies a “true friend”. Why shouldn’t we follow His example?

A WIP of Sedness

I call it "Beautiful Soul"

For whatever makes you sad or feeling inadequate; whoever you are, I want you to know that you are beautiful, and you have an even more beautiful soul.

What Am I

I am the voice in the silence when you thought you were alone

I am the flower that blooms from the seeds you have sown

I am the breath of air when you are submerged deep

I am the pillow when worries deprive you your sleep

I am the plumb line that keeps you straight

I am the sibling found in faith

I am the sun when you are the night

I am with you when you enter the fight

I am watcher, listener, student, teacher

Equal, alike; abroad, or beside

None can break what is forged inside

Fire tried love will never die

I am the cloth that dries your tears

I am the journal that keeps your fears

I am the one who remembers joys before

And you are the one who does these and more

The child’s toy of which you’ve grown apart

Yet the supportive voice that always shares your heart

Invaluable treasure proved by working hands of time

And rare luxury many people will never find

A virtue lost in the grains we grind

Have you already forgotten?

What am I?