Now is Not the Time

But now is not the time,
To watch rain drops gather on the window pane.
It is the time to run,
To read,
To dance.
It is the time for as many trivial tasks,
And as many miserable distractions we can invent.

But the lamp still flickers,
And the rain still falls,
To remind us,
(As if we did not have enough reminders)
Time is fleeting.
It has been leaving us, walking away,
Since the day we first arrived on earth.

Though as we grow,
As our knees bare more scars,
From falls on the concrete,
And our hands become covered in calluses,
From years of clutching tightly to the handlebars of our bikes,
Bulbs turn to blossoms,
And we are reminded that time will reward us too.

(Never with more time, of course)
But with the familiar sound of wind chimes that can be heard on a breezy summer afternoon,
The hum of a tune from a cheap electronic keyboard,
A memory of sunlight glittering through a canopy of reds, yellows, and oranges,
Or the warm glow of a storefront window on an evening in December.

Now is not the time,
To think of that which we have lost,
And will never get back,
To invent trivial tasks or miserable distractions.
To fear the passing time,
In which the joy and magnificence of our lives are being unfurled.

And so blossoms turn to leaves,
Leaves fall to snow,
And we are older,
But somehow we are newer too.

Nostalgia: Essential to the Human Condition

It’s funny how appreciation of our surroundings is often delayed.

Like a memory of fireflies winking in the summer.

Or the way light came through a window once a long time ago.

Or how a certain reflection on water triggered an inexplicable instance of deja vu.

We don’t realize the magic and the overwhelming significance of these things until they can only be treasured when we decide, later on, they are worth existing to us as enjoyable recollections of the past.

This is what makes our lives, as humans, somewhat perplexing and tragic.

But it is also how we learn the importance of being present.

Of taking our time.

Of knowing when to be self-focused and when to focus our attention outward.

It is how we come to understand a world full of fleeting moments, feelings, things, and people.

The thunderstorms that rage and calm.

The flowers that bloom and wilt.

The joys and struggles that come and go.

And it is how we come to recognize the beauty and relief that can be found in the impermanence that exists all around us.

In the air.

The trees.

Our dearest friends.

And especially, our sentiments.

One moment, we are laughing, and the next we are grieving for those who aren’t here to laugh with us any longer.

One moment, the sky is blue and the sun beams down at us, the next the earth is swallowed in storm and the warmth of the light on our backs can no longer be felt.

But we would not appreciate the laughter as much if we had not experienced the loss.

We would not worship the sunshine if we did not know the rain.

Impermanence commands gratitude.

It calls us to live fully, to embrace both life’s difficult and beautiful moments.

Because, in a twist of sorrow and splendor, we only get them once.

Nothing Less

There will be nights when you are empty,

When you’re completely, utterly hollow,

When Nothing will carve out your insides and leave you a shell.

There will be nights when all the rooms will reek of gasoline and you’ll hold your breath until the air paints your cheeks blue because you know that all it would take for the whole city to burn is a single spark of your breath.

There will be nights when your brain will sting and throb with electricity from thinking itself in circles,

When you’ll drive yourself insane because it’s pitch black outside and there is no trace of day left to distract, to dilute.

There will be nights when the parts of you so intensely disagree that your body will feel as though it is breaking.

There will be days when you turn over every rock and climb to the top of every tree and you won’t be able to figure out where it was you misplaced your happiness.

There will be nights when you can’t help but notice anything but the gaping holes in your chest,

The ones that serve as poignant reminders of so many that have left.

There will be days when the thoughts of people and places and things will suffocate you,

But there will also be days when every crack in the concrete is a place for something to grow,

There will be days when the forests and rivers and mountains glitter before you at the hand of brilliant sunlight,

When the rhythm of your footsteps will make beautiful music with the rolling thunder and constant whirring of highway cars.

There will be days when the sky cries relief for Spring onto the pavement until the whole world will smell of sweet rain, saturated solace.

There will be nights when all of the bodies breathe life into the houses,

When you will feel that same electricity of your brain in all the other brains and in all the other beings and in everything and everywhere and you will know that you are not alone.

There will be nights when you will find the courage to reach your hands to blackness and run your fingers through liquid starlight,

When night will guide you in your greatest dreams and you will live free by the light of the moon.

And finally, I hope there will be a night when your heart will not have to ache, when it will find the freedom to beat softly, to settle down.

I hope there will be a night when you will take the deepest of breaths, as you feel full, enchanted, consumed.

I hope there will be a night when you finally let yourself live in magic, in the drum of electricity, the magnetism of liquid starlight.

I hope there will be a night when you will know, and I mean really know, you deserve nothing less.

Star-speckled Living

“Sometimes it’s the same moments that take your breath away that breathe purpose and love back into your life.”
― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

Hey, all. I know I have been neglecting my site a bit lately. The past few weeks have been especially challenging and wonderful. I realize those two words moderately contradict one another, but I have found that they can also compliment each other remarkably. Unfortunately, these past weeks, although important to me, have stolen away many of the hours I normally devote to writing, and by now I am eager to be back doing what I love. That being said, I just want to express my enthusiasm relative to how many submissions I have received. I never get tired of seeing everyone’s passion come through in their writing and I am honored to be creating a space for that passion to be accepted and properly celebrated.

On that note, I am pleased to announce the recent development that is Discovery Canyon’s very own literary magazine, Thor’s Lore. The goal of the magazine, much like this site, is to create a space for students to share what they love. The magazine is accepting everything from short stories to photography, so click the link and go check it out if you are have something to share. The first deadline for submissions is March 14th and all submissions must be sent to dchsmag@gmail.com.

With that, I am excited to share with you this particular submission, which was sent in after my (surprisingly successful) Open Mic Night in February by the incredible, Joey Burckel. When I read the poem, Joey’s metaphor for each star being a beautiful moment intensely resonated with me. I love this proposed idea that these moments make us better and are essentially what we live for. These stars that are peppered throughout our lives are the hope for us and eventually, after we have lived long enough, our skies will be scattered full of them. This comparison of the stars to the good things in life is perfect, if you think about it. I mean, we all have our darkness, our pitch black night sky. We all have bad. Sometimes, there is not a star in the sky; we cannot even find the faintest glimmer of hope in our lives. No one is the exception to being trapped under the heavy blanket of their own night, at some point. However, we all have good things, as well. These are the things that keep us going, keep us living; these are the nights that are more stars than sky. These are the nights are hopeful and bright.

The last two lines of the poem strike me especially. As I said, we all have good nights and bad nights and everything in between, but Joey ends the poem with an explanation of why all of those ups and downs are truly worth it. After having been to our own personal hell and back a thousand times, we come out better. Through patches of struggle and accomplishment and sadness and joy and loss and gain, we are often carved into gentler creatures. These parts of our lives make us human.

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A Hopeful Glow                                                                                                              by Joey Burckel

Everyone starts life under a dark sky
On a chilled earth
We wander aimlessly trying to get by
We light fires to last the night
Pray and fall asleep
To escape our fright
A dawn brings warmth but it’s not to stay
For the moon is back in its deep looming way

This continues dawn to dawn
But sometimes and rarely upon
a cold winter twilight
as you pray into the night
A star appears in your blank black sight
Up in the void
As an inferno of light, and peace
The rarest of joys appears
In the most pure light you can see

To some a star seems small
and too dim to matter at all
But they do provide comfort
When all light has gone
And the night comes too early
And you are lost in whats wrong
In your mind you can’t think
But you shouldn’t have to sink

You can look up and count your stars
And begin to Pray
Think about all they are
And hope someday
that the stars will fill the space
Above this beautiful place
So the night looks like day
and all that fear can’t stay
Each star you find is a moment to
Beautiful moments that you fell through
And came out the end better than before
And really you can’t hope for anything more

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We Are All Persisting

“People who lack the clarity, courage, or determination to follow their own dreams will often find ways to discourage yours. When you change for the better, the people around you will be inspired to change also….but only after doing their best to make you stop. Live your truth and don’t EVER stop.”
― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

Persistence, I can confidently say, is an attribute we all aspire to. It is one of the most highly valued qualities amongst the lot of us. I mean, who doesn’t like the notion of being able to best life’s hurdles? Now, this is something I find worth reflecting upon. Think for a moment, about why you, personally, like the idea of being persistent. I believe we tend to value persistence, because it is a unique characteristic in the sense, it just so happens to apply to everyone. It’s one of the few qualities that enables us, as human beings, to comfortably find common ground with one another. Let’s be honest, there is not a single one of us that is lucky enough to lead a life entirely hurdle-free. We all have drawbacks, and whether they be the larger or the littler, persistence is necessary in overcoming them, in continuing despite them. The desire to persist is deep-seated in all of us from each and every one of our beginnings. As much of a crazy cliche this is, we are all born fighters.

You may not realize it, but you persist nearly every second of every day. Think about qualities, such as kindness, and even passion. These features, while important ones, have to be built on something, and I do believe that thing to be persistence. To provide you with an example, even kindness must be derived from persistence. You must persist in being kind; you must consistently display kindness, in order for it be considered one of your attributes. The same applies to passion. As I have mentioned in previous posts, passion has to be fought for. You must overcome the barriers before you in order to truly pursue a passionate life.

Persistence is relevant in literally every existing sense. It is imperative in your relationships, friendships, career, education; it is crucial in absolutely any aspect of your life that you expect to get anything out of. Not to mention, life’s less attractive features. I am talking about losing loved ones to chronic illness or suicide. I’m talking about depression and anxiety and bipolar disorder and insomnia and all of those other “ugly” things that no one ever wants to talk about. We are all persisting through all of these things everyday, and while we may be each persisting individually, we are all persisting together, as well.

We are in love with persistence because she is the roots, our common ground. She is the beginning. Of what? The answer is, whatever you decide. That’s what we are all trying to figure out isn’t it? We have the foundation. Now, what kind of life are we going to build? How many doors are we going to keep open? What kind of people are we going to let live there? How are we going to feel there? What attributes are we going to create? Kindness? Open-mindedness? Adaptability? It’s all up to us. Whether we like it or not, we are all building; we are all growing. We can either recognize that correspondence and build together, or ignore it and grow alone.

Some of you may have heard, there is going to be a DCC Open Mic Night for our school at 6 p.m. this Thursday. Now, I want to clarify exactly what our intention is with this event. Many of you are probably rolling your eyes at the idea of some forum for expression in the student body. Lame, right? Well, I’ll tell you what, sure, it may seem dramatic and overly-sentimental. I mean, I even had a few teachers/administrators raise an eyebrow when I told them about the event, and honestly, that’s fine. If you don’t feel the need to express yourself, I completely respect that, and I often feel that way myself. However, some people really need a chance to express the way they are feeling.

We are all persisting. We all have barriers, and we have all lost people. It is known, our community has been greatly affected by suicide in recent years. We have lost many loved ones to it, and it keeps happening, year after year after year. The worst part is, no one wants to talk about it. We whisper the word suicide thinking it will disappear faster if it is once spoken and then unspoken. What I am trying to say is, things are happening. People are being affected. Putting counselors in the school library for one week after a student death, as if that is the only place you can go if you want to feel anything, is not good enough anymore. In fact, I don’t think it ever was.

Here’s the deal, this Open Mic Night is what you make it. You don’t have to have been affected by the recent deaths, you don’t have to perform even. It can just be a place to come and have a cup of coffee and talk with your friends. This is a space in which you can do whatever you need to for yourself. It isn’t being held for any one specific group of people. That’s the magic of this whole thing, I think. You can make it out to be anything that you need it to be. Quite frankly, all I ask is, you at least give it a shot; consider it, because I truly do believe it can be anything for anyone.

Thank you for reading, and with that, I will leave you with a beautiful poem about persistence written by my friend, Caleb Workman.

Enjoy.

Morgan

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Forge My Soul                                                                                                          by Caleb Workman

I beat myself to forge my soul
With discipline that makes me whole
The things to do, or so I’m told
Will only work if I can’t fold.

The grasp of fate I keep at bay
It strikes at me; I am its prey
Burdens carried none can outweigh
Can weigh one down for good to lay

Yet I endure with it my drive
The fight I have lets me survive
I beat it through and stay alive
But not for life is what I strive

And still the Gods hear my outcry
Spirit in me rooted to find
I lift my head each time more high
Fall down eight times and stand up nine

Resist against the clash that bore
Tore deep to soul and shook the core
I beam straight into this fell war
And call to fate to send me more

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The Sincerest Form of Flattery

“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.”

[MovieMaker Magazine #53 – Winter, January 22, 2004 ]”
― Jim Jarmusch

The following poem was sent to me via E-mail on Friday night by an individual that would prefer to stay anonymous. Said individual, is an immensely gifted writer, and I have been privileged in being able to read their work. In their E-mail to me, they not only included their poem, but their inspiration for writing it. They revealed to me that their piece was prompted by College National Poetry Slam Champion, Neil Hilborn and attached the following link: A Series of Short Poems by Neil Hilborn (YouTube Audio).

After hearing Neil’s poem(s), I fell in love with his style and the emotion he so effectively portrays through his poetry. Furthermore, I was amazed by this individual’s ability to mimic his style and exhibit sentiment so similarly. As Charles Caleb Colton once said, “Imitation is the highest form of flattery.” This is especially true in this case. With how well written this poem is, it is truly commendatory to Hilborn’s genius.

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A Series of Short Poems                                                                                              by Anonymous 

This poem is called “Regret”

If all the things we held back were written on our bodies,
I would be more ink than flesh,
but I already gave you my blood in these poems,
and I am trying so hard to make these words matter to you.

This poem is called “How to love the lonely”

listen.

This poem is called “I have not forgotten you”

Though I never knew you,
You are the blackness between the stars.
You are frayed ends, threads of life
sewn into people like me who can’t let go of hope.
Your life ended incomplete.

This poem is called “Things that always fade”

fires, hope, sunsets, the word “we”,
fabric, dandelions, wishes, love,
the phrase “I’ll always be here for you”,
yesterday and tomorrow
everything fades
yet we still cling to today.

This poem is called “Everything you ever needed to know about love”

When told “I love you”, listen for hesitation
not because it shows doubt, but because it shows fear.
They understand the weight of the words and the world it holds,
and they are only trying to hand you their heart in simple terms.

This poem is called “Everything you ever needed to know about pain”

It shouldn’t last.
Don’t let it last.

This poem is called “I have learned to let it be”

I went to bed with rainstorms in my stomach the other night
but woke up breathing sunshine once again, few clouds fogging my mind
and it took only the time between closing my eyes and opening them again
for dusk to break its hold on me

This poem is called “How to avoid regret”

Live and love as if you were the last one on Earth.
Create and discover as if you were the first.

This poem is called “On being happy”

This should not be the goal,
because you are as malleable as clay
and the world will always be changing you.
Instead search for meaning in what you see
and work for growth in who you are and what you do,
because if becoming was being, then where would we live?

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To wrap things up, I would like to thank the anonymous individual who sent this wonderful poem in. I was nothing short of thrilled to receive a piece of work so inspired and full of passion. Please, never stop writing.

If you have written something you are interested in sharing, whether it be poetry, a short story, any variety of screenwriting, a song, or anything else, please do not hesitate to submit it to me through E-mail at m.aene.smith@gmail.com. I have loved seeing entries pop up in my inbox over this past week, and have thoroughly enjoyed reading everyone’s writing. Keep them coming!

Morgan

Follow Your Bliss

“Life has no meaning. Each of us has meaning and we bring it to life. It is a waste to be asking the question when you are the answer.”
― Joseph Campbell

Having plenty of free time with Winter break and all, I have had a chance to reunite with one of my all-time favorite writers and lecturers, Joseph Campbell. This reunion included the re-reading of one of Campbell’s most popular books, Pathways to Bliss. While reading, I was reminded of this quote, which I have always loved. Coincidentally, the following poem was e-mailed to me recently by a friend of mine, Ethan Vassar. Considering my recent re-readings/listenings of Campbell, I could not help but notice and admire Ethan’s incredible, natural conformity to Campbell’s general formula (for life, that is) of, “Follow your bliss.”

Ethan and I have known each other for a while now, and I have always been a big fan of, not only his writing, but his incredible, unique sense of humor and his still, yet authoritative personality. Ever since meeting Ethan for the first time, I have been blown away by how fearless he is in the pursuit of what he wants. Whether it be writing a play or an article or simply getting people’s opinions on his pieces, he is extraordinarily adamant about accomplishing his goals and fulfilling his aspirations, or in Campbell’s wonderful words,”following his bliss.” He will stop at nothing to transfigure his ambitions to actuality, and he is utterly relentless about bringing his “meaning” into life. Ethan is one of those rare individuals that, upon encounter, you are immediately inspired. It is almost as if it is contagious, as if he has such an abundance of inspiration, that he can’t help but pass a bit of it on to the next. There has not been a minute I have known Ethan, that I have not seen him bringing “meaning” to his own life, and the lives of others through the things he loves.

The impressive property Ethan’s work consistently displays is, this seamless synthesis of philosophical truth, with modern humor, and allusion to mythology/religion. In reading Ethan’s pieces, I inevitably end up doing at least one double take. His writing style is unexpected in the best way. Not only does it make you look twice, but it makes you think twice, as well. Ethan’s distinct approach is one I hold high-level reverence and admiration for, because it is a certain technique I, myself, have never possessed the capability of executing. Another intriguing aspect of the writing’s individuality is, the sense that it is extremely expressive of, and archetypal to an authentic human thought process. Ethan’s diction clearly captures the real, meandering nature of introspection in a stark, simple way that is both endlessly appealing and relatable. I cannot help but appreciate the philosophical foundation, with allusions to mythology and religion, along with the humorous element of his work, because it reminds me considerably of the way Campbell structures his books and lectures. All of these various elements blend together in creating something truly unique, that only a few, such as Campbell possess the ability to hone, and in my opinion, it is exactly this, this effortless amalgamation of elements, that makes Ethan’s writing something worth paying attention to.

In addition to composing poetry, Ethan has done some fantastic play-writing, and worked on a few other remarkable pieces. I would definitely recommend reading his work. I can guarantee it will be more than worth your while.

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Smog in Los Angeles                                                                                                   by Ethan Vassar

The reason why there’s smog in Los Angeles,
Is because of our fright,
To see all of the stars shimmering,
In the cold darkness of the night.

The monster under my bed doesn’t keep me up at night,
It’s my thoughts that do.
They aren’t some cliche Taylor Swift shit,
About how I’m still not over you.

I think about if my GPA and test scores actually really matter.
In the grand scheme of things they don’t,
Realizing that makes me even sadder.

The city never sleeps,
If it did it would be way too quiet,
We’d hear the universe laughing,
About what we think we understand about it.

There’s seven billion people here,
And I think that my life matters.
There’s no meaning just what I impose,
Just like one of Pollock’s splatters.

I am a drop of paint on a Canvas,
The artist is still unclear.
If my painting part of a series,
I can’t tell,
The ink is smeared.

The universe is a desert,
And the rich Earth is our oasis.
Perhaps we will find another one,
With a great amount of patience.

Life is a beach and I’m sitting,
On a towel playing in the sand.
It was fun until my sand castle,
Had been washed away by Gods hand.

They’re saying that God is dead,
But I think he is wondering what has happened. How’d he get replaced,
By an egotistical jerk rappin’?

There is no wrong way to live,
Only a wrong attitude.
I’m pretty sure that Orion,
Doesn’t care about yeezus dude.

If we could see how small we are,
Against the vastness of what has been,
No one would matter,
And that isn’t a world,
We’d all want to tweet in.

Whether you believe in nothing,
Or the gods of any testament,
All I can say is,
We’re here,
So let’s try and make the best of it.

They say every breath we take matters,
Every decision means something,
For me thinking that,
Makes it a lot easier waking up in the morning.

I struggle looking for the truth,
It’s almost like searching for something through fog.
At least I can take pride in knowing,
I matter to my dog.

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If you are interested in seeing more of Ethan’s awesome work, find him through his Instagram at @ethanvassar.

I would like to personally thank you, Ethan, for your persistent abundance of inspiration, and for sharing your fantastic work with me.

If you are a writer and you have anything you believe to be worth reading, don’t hesitate to e-mail it to me at m.aene.smith@gmail.com. I would be thrilled to post it here and praise it. I accept both credited work and anonymous pieces. My ultimate goal for this blog is to cultivate creativity and passion, so again, feel free to send me anything you’d like. Have a wonderful rest of your week, everyone.

Morgan