I’ve become afraid to write from my own heart.

I have self-diagnosed this recent writer’s block.  But I wasn’t blocked; I was empty.  It’s been a terrible impedance on addressing what my heart has been crying over.  Just hoping some pen will at least bullet point in one of my six free-floating journals.  But, out of some momentary and not-so-momentary circumstances from past weeks, I’ve decided to publicize these tears and let my heart speak the questions it has been trying to ask my soul.

Now, out of a fear in picking up my pen, there is a bit of scribbling that needs to come out.  It seems my fingers have let up on the callous marks they were once proud to display.  Writing sessions used to be air to me; now they are homework assignments from my head.  I delight in writing, but it’s that fear of not doing something after having done it so easily for so long.  Like kissing someone new.

The question always haunts you… “Do I still have it?”

I blame all rustiness on this wannabe-adult philosophy, where “big boys don’t complain, then run to their room and blog about it.”  Lame.  There’s no humility in that.  There isn’t ever creativity.  It’s simply an exercise in existence.  It’s time I start apologizing to the part of myself that sparks the true creativity—the rest is just this pretentious show I fool myself into.

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(Source: memoir.jasonotoole.com)

I text her…

                    …She emails me

Later, I tweet her…

      …Only to find she just posted on my wall

And when I BBM’ed her to see if she was by her phone…

                   …Her Foursquare said she just checked in near me

So we thought, “This is ridiculous,” then did what any reasonable couple would do…

We Skyped.

-Jason O’Toole

(Source: memoir.jasonotoole.com)

Modesty cloths beware. 

It’s certainly different for every denomination, but if you attend or have ever been to a more charismatic church, you may have seen some spiritual planking in full effect.  I wasn’t raised in the church, so this was incredibly hard for me to justify at first.  Because it’s always follows an inspiring message, I’m in this warm state of peace and encouragement, and then I see this and it’s just not at all what my heart feels like doing.

Experiences like this teach me two things.

The first is that I am not alone in thinking this is weird.  I don’t always know it at the time, because I just see everyone so accepting of people’s expression towards God’s presence.  It’s usually after the service at lunch when people let me know, “That’s not how everyone worships.”  It gives me a sense of personal stability in knowing that I’m not crazy for not slip-n-sliding down the aisle to an altar call.

The second is that God is as unique and different as every style of worship. 

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(Source: memoir.jasonotoole.com)