I got a new tattoo about a month ago. It’s on my ribs. This fall I was praying on my deck and for the first (and so far only) time I spoke in tongues. To be honest I’d tried to speak in tongues before but knew it was only the gibberish of my own head. This experience was different. It was from the Holy Spirit and it was one of the most powerful feelings I’ve ever felt in my very emotional life. The phrase I spoke, and have since tattooed on myself is this:
“Hallah yu Alla Higham Hyawehlujah”
I love the tattoo and how it came out. The only thing I didn’t think about was how hard it would be to try and quickly articulate to someone what exactly it means. In a sentence it means “trying to look at temporary life on earth through an eternal lens.” But it really means so much more than that. I could probably talk about all the intricacies of it for hours. Instead, I tried to capture it in the form of creative writing. Hope you enjoy it.
I saw it all.
The day all the clock shops were blown up with all the time bombs. I was on a multi-colored street that seemed to be an orchestra of cultures. Fire engine red saxaphones. Atomic tangerine orange harps. Bright yellow journalistic guitars. Dark green envious cellos. Depression-quilt blue trumpets. Psychedelic electric indigo pianos. Advent candle violet violins.
The people were all these colors—all these instruments of change. They wore their flaws without shame. They made their deepest fears known to each other. And because they did so, they knew just how to help and forgive each other. The flaws could not fester in deep wounds of the soul. They were promptly cleaned and bandaged—no infection of insecurity, lust, greed, bitterness or anger could spread throughout the rest of the body of the people.
It was a multi-culture of lucid kisses and loving embraces. Prophetic words were the only words spoken. People were ever changing—like the spectrum of colors of a star if it were played through time as you watched it in fast-forward in light speed. Change was no longer a tragedy for the human soul to bare. These lucid kisses, these loving embraces, were all kissing and embracing the mach-infinity of change that was ever present on the multi-colored street.
The symbolism of history was perfectly understood. The practicality of mathematics was warmly accepted. The curiosity of science was unashamedly desired. The absolute necessity of healthy communication was a welcomed standard. These avenues of the mind were all valued equally.
Yet art and poetry were of the most importance. They were not avenues of the mind. They were rivers to the seas of the soul. And everyone floated them together. It didn’t matter if you had talent or not. When you created to energize, to invigorate, to electrify, to set fire to, to see into your soul– the art was brilliant, whether it was brilliant or not.
Every emotion was so deeply understood that you felt joy behind it no matter what you were feeling. You felt anger wonderfully– sadness was necessary to appreciate joy– boredom was finally understood as the ultimate form of relaxation… Anytime, was nap-time.
Dinner was a three-hour event. Sports were pure and just. Music was cleansing and graceful. These were the facts of life. It was simple and therefore it could be properly complex. Behind every necessary invention there was depth in the thought of its design. Self-awareness was absolutely essential to the vitality of the community and every individual understood that. They did not fear the challenge of constantly being ready to learn. The faster they learned the happier they were. The only sin was being stagnate.
Stagnate: (of water or air) cease to flow or move.