42 days with Job. Day 1.

"Naked I came from my mother's womb,

and naked I will depart.

The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;

may the name of the Lord be praised."

Now that quote above, which comes from Job 1:21 may sound like a good poem or some hippie song lyric, but the story behind those words come from a heart of wisdom. They come from a man at the lowest point of his life, with nothing more to live for, who somehow still finds the will to live..but not just live...to live praising God. Talk about tough skin...or mentally ill. So what exactly happened to Job, and why did he say "Naked I came...and naked I will depart...the Lord be praised."

So this rich guy with a huge family of 7 sons, 3 daughters; think the brady bunch times 5 or the partridge family if you prefer, whichever family you found most "happy to be together most of the time" and wondered after watching an episode why your family was so distant or boring...Job's family was the ultimate party family. It says that each of his sons held feasts!..not just lunches or dinners, but FEASTS every week, where they also invited their 3 sisters (cuz you know they all love each other and love being all together) so that's about 20 people in one room MINIMUM (assuming they were all married WITHOUT kids and WITHOUT friends, which is not likely but for the sake of simplicity let's just say it was 20, when really it was probably more like 50 people) so they are having a ball, laughing, eating good food, talking about how funny their dad is for not liking feasts and for preferring to sit at home praying and reading the bible, but also grateful that God shows so much favor on him..then WHOOOOOOOOSH!!! A violent wind, like a hurricane comes and blows their house down, with them trapped inside, and they all get crushed and die. Some lucky servant manages to pull together enough adrenaline and lift the roof off his face and body and gets out with broken bones and an eye missing plus other injuries...and he goes and runs (or maybe hobbles cuz he lost a leg) to tell Job about what happened. Now just before this servant had come, 3 other servants had already hobbled on their one leg to tell Job that some gangsters had come and stole his sheep, oxen, donkeys, and camels and on top of that killed hundreds of his servants, but allowed one to live to tell Job. Animals back in the day were like cars, houses, food, and jobs today. So basically, before Job was told by the one-eyed, one-legged beat up servant that his children were all crushed by hurricane katrina, 3 other servants had come to tell him that his job went bankrupt, his house burned down, and all his cars were stolen and sold on the black market.

So Job sits on a bench and says: "naked I came....and naked I will depart, ...the Lord be praised"

When all of us are born, we come out of our mother's womb in our birthday suits. Then some nurse or doctor puts a hospital cloth over us and hands us to our mothers to be held and taken care of. We, as newborns know nothing, have nothing (like bank accounts, food, clothes, no nothing) we need our moms to hand breast feed us, to change our diapers...even GIVE us diapers lest we poop all over ourselves and lay in it. ew.) so we are, like Job says: "naked" initially until someone, most likely our mom or dad, comes along and GIVES us stuff for FREE like food and clothes and diapers. Free for us, not for them. why? because they like us, they really really like us...and we are darn lucky to be liked by them. So basically we are born with NOTHING, but then God GIVES us parents who then GIVE us food, diapers, clothes etc.. and that is what Job knows by wisdom. The simple truth that we don't own or have anything until someone GIVES it to us, so what right do we have to complain when what we have gets destroyed and the person that gave it to us doesn't compensate? If I give my friend a puppy and it gets an ear infection (like my poor linus has) and then it's legs grow too long or it's eyes go blind and then one day it dies, is it logical for my friend to get angry with me and expect that I get him or her another puppy? No. Heck no. I gave my friend a puppy out of the good generosity of my heart, not because I OWE that friend anything. The same with Job. God had blessed Job with a hearty family, lots of livestock and riches, but then Satan came along and destroyed all of that thinking that Job would be deceived into thinking it was God's fault..cuz he would be emotionally unstable, and people that are emotionally unstable do and think illogical things. But Job remained sane. He kept his head on straight, and knew that even though it was great when he had his 10 children and million dollars, those were all GIVEN to him by God, and therefore he had no right to be angry if they were taken away. That is some deep understanding.

If I suddenly woke up and got a call that my parents and brother had got into a car accident and were instantly all killed, that news alone would shake my world into devastation, depression, sadness, and just an overwhelming flood of desperate loss. Then to be followed by another call from a bank or lawyer saying that everything my family owned; houses, cars, etc, were to be confiscated by the bank on account of some sort of loan unpaid, leaving me with really nothing would shock me beyond what I can fathom right now. However, this is what Job experienced. He went from being the richest man with a huge family of 7 sons and 3 daughters, along with thousands of sheep and other animals to waking up one morning to the news that his children had been crushed in their own home and his livestock had been stolen by raiders..leaving him with just his own body and mind. Yet despite the tragedy given him, he remained sane and was able to discern that what he "had" was gone for reasons unknown to him, but nonetheless the Lord was His God and Job praised God. Just because something bad happened to him doesn't mean that God suddenly is to blame, because wouldn't that look more like God was not God and Job not the servant, but instead that the roles were switched? God is God, Job was the servant, so Job knew he had no right to complain or blame God for what had happened to his children and livestock. God, the master, had given Job these things out of the goodness of his heart, not because he OWED Job, the servant, anything.

Shoot. That's a tough pill to swallow. Let it just sink in, that you are being a big bratty baby when bad things happen and you curse God for it. You need to be smacked, and reminded of your idiocy that everything you have now was a gift from God, you came naked into the world and had nothing, but because God is so nice he gave you a family or friends or even an intellect, maybe even some arms and legs, sight, hearing, sense of touch or the ability to sing, let alone talk, you were GIVEN those things, and if they are taken away God is still God. He is still to be praised, and you are still naked.

____________________________________________________________________

Introduction.

So I'm starting a blog session about Job and each day I will be reading one chapter from the book of Job as a way of going on the same journey he did. In case you don't know the story of Job, he was a man who was blameless before God, and God loved him. Satan comes to God and basically tells God that Job only serves God because God puts a hedge around Job and blesses him with food, wealth and a good family. In other words Satan is saying that Job only likes God because God gives him lots of expensive gifts. So God let's Satan take whatever he wants away from Job, to show satan that Job is not that shallow, but that Job and God love each other as a Creator loves his creation. However, Satan is not allowed to harm Job himself. So Satan does a bunch of horrible nasty things to Job...things like killing his children, having gangsters come and steal his stuff, etc, but Job doesn't waver in his love for God. So then Satan says some other stupid crap about how it's because Job is healthy that he loves God, basically saying that Job is a selfish S.O.B. who never really cared for his children and things anyway, but that if he were allowed to mess with Job's health (basically everything but death) then Job would surely curse God. So the story unfolds...and I hope whoever reads this will take this journey of understanding our relationship with God with me and learn a great deal about ourselves and about God.

-Jamie.

neon signs of life

Dancing, falling, running, and crawling.

I put on my purple socks and stop-light top,

step out in darkness to view the world,

unseeing beings, and hopeless souls,

the signs of life replaced by empty holes.

Closed, yet open, my eyes see through,

a far brighter view with a celestial hue.

Take this old skin, it's way past due..

Show me real red, bright blue, and starlight too.

Blast me past neutral, till I'm spankin' brand new!

the stirring

Another sunset completing the day,

Eyes wide awake as birds fly away.

Opportunity like rain washes the walls,

ready to marked by more glorious falls.

The city beneath them drifts in the air,

the slow silent stirring ruffles his hair,

shadows grow tall, while they both silently stare.

Night bestows upon them like a dark chocolate eclair.

Distance is far and worlds are unknown,

He runs barefoot, she walks alone,

their worlds yet to collide, to create a true home.

His is the day, and hers is the night,

Two separate minds, connected by light.

listen

The words that flew out of my mouth never made much sense to the world,

Speaking became a puddle, and I never could say what I wanted to,

The thoughts would form sentences, but they never made it past my mind,

I felt trapped between what was real and what was wrong,

The frustration almost made me give up hope,

speaking needed freedom, I felt so far from what I loved; conversation.

I told you what I could with a nervous heart,

filling voids with unnecessary comments,

but you knew what I was really thinking,

you somehow heard the voices in my head,

You responded to something I never spoke out loud,

and it felt so right, it feels so right.

...but the conversations still make me nervous,

and I always feel like it's so temporary,

or that one day the channel will switch and I'll be speaking empty words again,

so I'll make it harder for you to reach me,

I'll set up more walls and stand far, far away,

I'll make you cry, make you want to give up and scream at me,

because if you stay I'll know you really heard me,

if you leave I'll know you only pretended to know me.

Meet Grey

Grey is tall and built like a pole vaulter by genetics.

He does really well in math, but has a severe case of dyslexia.

Everyone thinks he's a jock, but he really loves gardening.

Grey has green fingers, ironically.

He is handsome by most standards, but his kindness weakens the appeal.

Grey doesn't go out much, but considers staring out at the sky for long hours meaningful

He's always a couple minutes early wherever goes, considers punctuality a discipline.

He doesn't smoke, but daydreams about what people would think if he did.

He has crushes on older girls who wear glasses and wear Tshirts that separate from their pants by an inch leaving a line of bare skin

He thinks he's the only one who is misunderstood because of the way he looks, and because nobody knows he gardens.

Grey is a little insecure, but he doesn't put a lot of weight on appearances or social interactions

He's mostly insecure about his footsteps.

He gets lost in thoughts about raising children and being good to his wife,

he doesn't want to be like everyone else.

He thinks he'll make the best husband because he knows that sacrifice of self is necessary, but also knows that most things are easier said than done, however he still thinks that he will be the minority or exception in that case simply because he has a "gut feeling".

Grey likes to play baseball and wear clean shirts.

He thinks that after a long day, so long as he didn't watch TV, it was productive.

Grey gets by, but doesn't really have high standards for his life.

He knows this and it sometimes catches him during his hours looking at the sky, and depresses him.

Grey finds flowers that grow between cement cracks miracles, and stares.

He likes to think of gardening as a guideline for life.

Weeding out the bad stuff, and watering the good stuff even if it takes ages for the plant to fully bloom.

Grey thinks people are not truly bad, even if their actions show otherwise.

He thinks it's a product of their timidity towards self actualization, that they are indeed, meant for something specific and important, but more so meaningful.

Grey is part colorblind, but never found it strange that when he saw purple, the world saw brown.

When he finds enough time, Grey likes to do sit ups, push ups, and planks while coaxing his plants to grow stronger.

He doesn't have very many embarrassing moments, and often imagines them to amuse himself, especially during long lectures or seminars.

Grey hopes that people will find the good in life, even if evil is present till the end.

He thinks that circumstance has little to do with choice, such as wrong and right.

Grey paints his world with strange colors in his mind, but to most people he's just grey.

No one really knows Grey to be green, red, lavender, turquoise, or yellow because of the way he spends his time.

He can't paint a still life for his own life, but can make beautiful swirls and smudges that look like abstract perfection.

He would never email a girl he loved, because emails are too common and easily accessible.

Grey was named after his autistic father's favorite crayon, and the only color his partly blind mother could see.

crap

It was never mine to begin with,

now all I feel is addiction,

I'm casting glances over my shoulder,

worried that the next good thing will pass me by,

stuck in a phase,

waiting, waiting, waiting,

too much routine,

can't stop the bad habits,

choking on the ugly reality,

this has got to stop somehow, today, now.

draining.

vision fading.

yet hope still escalating.

where does this come from?

I just want more of what was my own life back.

to travel,

to love,

to kiss,

to climb,

to run,

to sleep,

to eat,

to have conversations,

to daydream,

to read,

to write.

Wandering Through Walls

A path is marked days in advance,

but approaching near is something unclear,

the presumed way seems swallowed in a trance.

Wondering, wandering through a cloudy drear

Set out to conquer and accomplish some,

sent spiraling out from another turn,

limbs knotted up and suddenly numb

the walls cave in and fingers burn

Catching wants and unknown needs,

falling down and bruising brown

the walls stretch out without a sound

conscious of way but pulled like a slave

These walls they trap and dig deep down,

no escape from either way around

heart beating and pulsing out of control

life leaving the eyes save the bare soul

Rain heavy upon the enclosed place,

causing the body to flay then be still

breath catching and flowing at great pace

Here where one stands against one's own will

Responsibility

Responsibility is a daily reminder that you are restricted.

Perhaps it is the stony walkway towards your inheritance.

It can seem tedious and unrelenting, or just and fair for those who abide by it.

The process is tremendously mindful, but the benefits feel feeble.

Where one responsibility ends, another is surely to take it's place.

The characteristics involved evolve almost constantly,

as if to reform to a higher constraint of humane obligation.

Where does responsibility begin and freedom end?

What defines a person's world if not the limitations they put forth to live?

Here is an observation of a direct impasse,

where neither ability nor correctness will ever concede.

Thus leaving one with dreams and hopes to indulge in.

However, ever so finely sporadic, someone is able to navigate a way.

Be it brilliance or higher guidance both approaches stand attainable to those who seek it out.

Responsibility is a choice, as is the freedom to choose.

beautiful

because two people are not alike...

The Antipathy of the Antipathy of Self

It feels so strange to dislike the similarities,

we are ever so keen on life's reflective parodies,

wandering the ground with heavy feet,

we sail past 3 seasons and burn in the heat

So many heads with so many questions,

keeping things shallow in most conversations

looking past here and avoiding the now,

on our hands and knees, to Ambivalence we bow,

always confused and never too sure,

this is a threat to our very nature.

Take away the glass blocking out touch,

reach for directness instead of such and such

Feel the new skin replenish your body,

let go of the old and outdated facsimile

Smell the snow see it flash in white brilliance,

Spring leaves of warm colors arouse a resilience,

ride on the waves of a summer beach day,

in each passing season there is reason to play.

Let go of antipathy and anger or worry,

No need to be anxious or pushed in a hurry,

Life comes and it goes as it always has,

The best you can do is the best that you have.

contradicting atmospheres

Love and Greed make for a terrible duo

Love and Pride will only cause strife

Love and Anxiety bring out unwanted pressure

Love and Expectations cause disappointment

Love and Demands are unequally balanced

It's strange walking into a heart shaped arena to watch the killing take place.

Covered

demonstrate for me,

this unholy being,

pent up with the unseeing,

heart bleeding,

mind half depleting

salt of my flesh,

make due with this mess,

construct a new soul,

lest I remain a gaping hole.

just for now

Save the girl

day one: ambition

day two: indecision

day three: reconsideration

sigh.

is it worth it? is it truly worth it? no telling till I dive.

self adherence

whispers waft around the inner chambers of the heart,

taunting one or guiding one for lack of discipline to start

hearing words that bark like commands,

then softly cooing the infringing demands

To lay still, unevenly breathing

taking in accounts of the prior evening,

looking back and looking forward,

To catch a glimpse of the cage one conjured.

Here. Now. Inhaling and exhaling.

forgetting air, and what moves thee

Feeling the tension build up profusely

then choking one with self inadequacy

Silence all around the room,

numbing the tension all too soon

drifting off into an imaginary place

One forgets that he is on a race

be here. be the tree planted firmly,

growing tall with roots stretching deeply

take out substance and competition

running towards a self ambition.

I decompose

drag me to obedie-

pull me back to discip-

push my will to mov-

this feels like more than I can handle

My wants and needs ferociously flow freely,

I need the storm to come and tame me

Halfway stuck and often weary,

blind and shattered I can't see clearly

turning my stomach inside out

All that's in me begins to generate doubt

Inciting moment come and take me

rescue me with what is necessary.

Chisel my structure,

compose my minutes,

take everything out,

and restart before I diminish.

Fading and wandering

this weakness overtakes me,

but I'll fight till I'm over

because this is how it must be.

Soon when my bones rest underground,

the will to have courage will incessantly resound

all of my fears and all of the pain,

will have been for a cause, for an eternal gain.

Essence of sky

Crystal droplets submerged in the sky,

penetrating one's eyes with an evanescent subtle light,

beauty so common yet commonly so denied,

Time seems to stand for such a grand sight!

As this simple canvas illuminates life,

Beyond emotion much deeper than sorrow,

outlined in wonder, words do not follow

Past forgotten, hope in tomorrow.

Beautiful, beautiful! Take it all in!

If only days like this had no end.

Consider the ant, and follow it's way,

toiling hard for a breath in such a day!

Naked in full view

With your palms face down,

on your knees greed unabating,

selfish desires thrown around,

flesh and bone surely decaying

The threads that cover your body,

the words that smooth your speech,

positions of high rank in society,

yet fulfillment remains out of reach

blind to self you bloody the day,

your existence full of lethargic pity,

slowly baking intelligence to clay

resident of an ostentatious city,

"afraid" or "indifferent" they say.

We stand here on arid ground,

rooted deep in Nature's floor,

civil layers are none to be found,

the outcome of what we bore.

Here the earth is like an arena,

people naked before the crowd,

you stand before the gods

secret thoughts now read aloud.

This is in waking, this is in doing,

this is in taking, and in pursuing.

(unfinished)

My ocean

I'm like the shore rising up,

crashing down at a moments whim

beating the ground with tiny particles

carrying sand back to sand

the Sun beating down on my skin

Rolling around in momentous motions

lying still at intervals

carrying ships to destinations

allowing life within me to grow

the sea creatures playing in my womb

are my desires exploring the vast

Storms and wind create a stir

tossing me around until no more

but life within me remains

the animals peak in thundering

knowing well what lies beneath

yet some afraid to go above shore

all the same they remain

after an angry storm

meaning in reflection,

watching the ripples replicate

I search the water's surface,

but I know the waters are deep.

What is your priority in life?

Why do you do what you do?

What is causing you to move in a direction?

I identify myself with another,

thinking this will make me whole,

blending in with all the colors,

turning my story into a blur.

What are you putting your trust in?

Where is your support coming from?

Why are you doing what you are doing?

I can see now that my soul speaks,

A thousand voices rushing in,

but I pick them apart until one by one

they dissipate, leaving none

All that's left is what has begun.

Peeking Through Woods

Beneath new shadows

seeing fresh faces

the uneven lines

and slow to fast paces

Here lurks an unknown

something for thought

gnawing at silence

as truth to be sought

pacing the room

conjuring questions

devising up answers

out of wistful obsessions

then comes a line

read in soft acquiescence

shedding some purpose

with specks of adherence

to be told where you are

by your own meek voice

recognizing the now

knowing there is always a choice

a light breaks through clouds

upon this simplicity

to live and live well

with a natural audacity

thinking cap

I'm going swimming today.

I found a cave where my mind stays,

this cave of words and books and plays,

everything is illuminated as Jonathan Safran Foer would say.

To feel, to touch, to love, to mold.

These are the moments I crave to hold,

Places and people, mostly young, and rarely old.

Characters and friends that are humble, yet bold.

But there are times when I swim to shore,

of books I come to vigorously adore...

I read a line and then some more,

but all the while I've stepped out the door.

So the line repeats as I read it again,

again and again and again and again.

I feel like a child just reaching ten.

So distracted by memories back then.

My brother was an artist who loved to draw

He also painted and played the violin when he was small,

but along the way he just dropped the ball,

I'm guessing he thought that art wasn't his call

or perhaps it was my father who was so smart and so tall,

that unconsciously made my brother to stall,

to follow his dad down some grander white hall.

I used to imagine a million things at once,

played in a world with unlimited months!

Beads and small animals came alive in my room,

pretend stories were mine to excessively loom.

Food was always a box of popsicles or fruit,

but creating new things were better than edible loot.

Oh! how my mind conjured up incredible days,

where everything happened in impossible ways!

Decadent worlds and swirling rivers,

underwater pearls carved into bow and arrow quivers

constant daylight and new adventures to be had,

even the most minor of details made me glad.

Here I float on the waters of my brain,

remember now the storms of muddy rain,

things got lost and words were quieted,

I left that place and have yet to be reunited.

Now crawling back to a cave not mine,

I decipher new words that glisten and shine,

stories written by authors much more leonine

I waddle to their pond for a brief blip in time,

It's here that I remember something clandestine,

their worlds take me back to one simple line:

but one simple line turns into one million mines

exploding in thought, in fret, and I'm hushed like a mime

steadily breathing I sit back and recline,

dreams filter in like a whimsical wine,

carefully now, observing each sign,

I take to my writing, once again so divine.

-on teetering from getting a doctorate in grad school or writing as a starving artist, hoping both can coexist, but unsure of what may be the more astute or ingenious direction for myself. Going back to the poem I wrote called: "War".

disguised disarray

It's like standing in the rain,

Nothing feels real, neither joy nor pain,

this moment seems repeated,

Everything only hits me just the same

Where is my face?

Here is your jacket,

here is your path,

here is your work,

here is your check.

Arrows, bright lights, big signs

shoving us in some direction

Majority not thinking twice,

led on like mere blind mice.

Don't snatch away my dream,

I fight against this machine

holding hard to what's so far away,

left with gasping breaths that fray

A whale in the room,

nobody wants to notice it loom,

it sits there all day,

everyone afraid of what to say,

silence tolls and casts a day.

counter-balance

I'm an addict.

I need help.

search for denouement

Pulling me down again,

I can't stop from wondering,

how many days I've left to give,

Can't stop pondering,

what it is that wills me to live.

This force of need,

I must search out,

like from a seed,

meaning must sprout.

The days end work,

I feel upon my shoulders,

breath barely heaving,

as I surmount these boulders.

Carry me,

take gravity,

point me to a new discovery.

lead me away from all this tragedy,

Carry me,

take mighty gravity,

show me flight above adversity.

I close my eyes to hear you,

Your voice tells me possibilities,

fighting my will's atrophy,

guiding me, ever so firmly.

You tell me I am something,

meant to be life-saving,

intelligent and comprehending,

steady feet, never compromising.

I must escape from this abyss,

must observe my surroundings carefully,

be swift to see what others miss,

running strong and mindfully.

new eyes

I was swimming in the dark,

I saw you falling away from me,

I tried to understand each mark,

but I refused to really see.

Tears, you betray me.

Tears. Vision. Blurry.

Breathe. This is too much for me.

Stay, stay, I cannot see.

There you stood in front of me,

your beauty overtaking me,

all I could do was stare,

feeling so lost and numbly unaware.

Every moment you've spent with me,

I can't imagine any other history,

that's moved me more deeply,

than your star-speckled love for me.

I will shoulder your heavy sighs,

Mother, Mother, I will be...

be your star-speckled new eyes.

Bright as the morning skies.

"Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails."

tick-tocking

sweet little things!

War Junket

"Where does the body begin and the mind end?"

We keep shooting silent arrows, re-puncturing blind wounds.

box talk.

This box is too big.

This box is too tall.

This box is so weak.

It's no box at all.

This box has a lid?

This box should be closed.

This box is my kid?

I'd rather not impose.

Everyone look at my box!

Everyone look at it glow!

Now box you stay put,

don't let the other boxes know.

At home my box sits,

with comfort and joy,

I knew it'd succumb,

when I put in that toy.

The box sits alone,

edges tattered and torn,

what's happened to the box?

Once sturdy, now worn.

This box doesn't fit,

It collects too much dust,

This box is a twit,

it's even managed to rust!

My box now keeps shut,

I'll never know why,

I didn't open the box,

because it required me to try.

-on never being able to please you.

-box

war

I digress in this brief moment,

the war in my mind is turbulent,

for a blip in time I'll crawl into my cave,

not to be captive nor to be saved,

just carried away from all these distractions,

I stretch my limbs with scapular retractions.

opposable thumbs

Headed down some ample path,

faces pale or black with ash,

these desperate thoughts bottled in a flask,

while painted smiles remain a mask.

Reaching for the closest balm,

numbing us temporarily calm.

Searching for some sort of truth,

while day to day we mar the proof.

Colliding flesh, colliding views

everything a blur and acutely skewed.

Save the mind, in an inner tomb,

resurrect deadness to leave the room!

Voices whisper a suppressing gloom,

Nature hints at an opposing bloom,

Light and Dark, Sun and Moon,

intertwined by a thread of time,

waiting for the daybreak chime.

Building pressure to take down the wall,

a mind so weak left with scanty arsenal,

you....hold steady.

you....be ready.

Quiet. Hear that voice, still and small?

sleep waking

dear love,

Close your eyes, let your worries subside. Tomorrow the sun will rise, and tonight the moon will shine and it will continue to give you light. The air will continue to flow in and out of your body, filling and re-filling you with it's invisible strength. The trees outside your window will produce shade and the birds will visit it's shade yet. So rest your pretty head in a drifty sleep, the sky will cover you, your skin will keep you, your blanket will warm you, and the heavens will pour down hope on you. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep, and let the morning bright bring you back.

don't just imagine the possibilities, but embrace them with imagination.

Taking a day, and pumping your blood for what it's worth.

To not let strain or duty play with your mind,

but to mix play with duty like a child.

To enjoy anything and everything, whether painful or suffering.

Finding meaning in trivial beginnings,

only to reveal mosaic progression.

Taking door knobs and opening them,

not just admiring opportunities from afar.

Hear. Listen. Watch. Learn. Observe. Apply.

If my heart can catch a rhythm all on its own,

my hands can create a masterpiece without doubt.