Poetry Perfected

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion." --Dead Poet's Society

No, I'm not going to post some original poetry that is filled with passion inspired by Robin William's performance in Dead Poet's Society. Give me a break, it's only my second post. I love this quote, though, don't you? Sometimes I think we forget that the human race is filled with passion. We get too busy, to worked up about the little stuff that we forget to look around once in awhile and smell the tulips (I'm spending this week at a Tulip Festival in Iowa, they seem to be one of the only flowers I've seen in a couple weeks...). And I think it's the little things that we get passion from.

This week has been spent with some of my favorite people. We all belong to Drama Ministries Ensemble, a traveling theatre group our college sends out, and the eight of us are sticking around to perform our play during the Tulip Festival. So we're living in campus housing or with family, some of us are working, some of us have class, but most of us have had nothing to do. It's been glorious.

How often do you feel like you're in paradise? Not too often. At least I don't. Until this week. As much as I love the moon, I love sitting in the sun as well. We spread out my big t-shirt quilt I made last summer in the grass outside our apartment and just exist. We read, sketch, and sleep for a couple hours, some of us getting a little bit sun burnt (not me, Mom, don't worry. I wore sunscreen).

It was perfect. At least in my mind. The guys said there wasn't nearly enough coffee for it to be paradise, but I don't drink coffee, so that didn't factor into my calculations. We were together, in community (a huge push on our small Christian college campus), existing. That made it perfect.

So, until next time, look for little perfect moments, sit in the sun, exist.