uninspired

Frieda — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 14:54:42 +0000

jes 43:2

Frieda — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 17:40:35 +0000

the waves are calling out my name
and they laugh at me
reminding me of all the times
i’ve tried before and failed —

but the voice of truth tells me a different story
the voice of truth says “do not be afraid!”
and the voice of truth says “this is for my glory”
out of all the voices calling out to me

Casting Crowns. Voice of Truth.

gen 12:1

Frieda — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 17:40:04 +0000

if you ask me to leap
out of my boat on the crashing waves —

i’ll go, but I cannot go alone
cause i know i’m nothing on my own
but the power of Christ in me makes me strong

Casting Crowns. In Me.

toda, yalda ktana

Frieda — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 17:18:53 +0000

Ich war traurig, aber dein Lächeln hat mich fröhlich gemacht.

Was soll ich mit euch tun?

Frieda — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 13:23:40 +0000

Denn eure Liebe ist wie eine Wolke am Morgen und wie der Tau, der frühmorgens vergeht.

Hosea 6,4

Klatschmohn

Frieda — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 03:09:42 +0000

Bedacht beugt er sich mir zu, flüsternd den weiteren Verlauf unserer Reise anvertrauend. Alles in mir verlangt danach ihm näher zu sein. Aber ich kann nicht anders als lächeln, denn seine Augen suggerieren mir dieselbe Pein.
Ich löse den unsittlich langen Blickaustausch und bereite mich auf das Kommende vor. Da sie in derselben Stunde wie ich geboren wurde, verlagt das Gesetz, dass er meiner Schwester mit der gleichen Achtung entgegentritt. Ich halte die Luft an und mustere den gepflasterten Boden. Die Länge meines Blickaustauschs zuvor. Ich schaute auf. Ihre Lippen an den seinen. Ihre Hand seine Wange streichelnd.
Ich renne.
Dorfbewohner am Rand des Feldes. Stehen. Der Wind streicht über die Ähren und bringt vereinzelt Klatschmohn zum Vorschein. Zwei Mädchen finden sich hinter mir und bestaunen den Horizont. Zwei frei fliegende Papierdrachen, ein Blumenfeld wie sorgsam auf ein Seemannsnetz gesteckt segelt am Himmel.
Eine Kutsche sammelt uns ein und wir befahren den langen Feldweg. Ich weiß nicht wohin, aber »fort« fühlt sich gut an. Das Windspiel bringt die Ähren zum Beugen und mein Herz beginnt sich zu beruhigen. Ich atme. Und wie wir dem Blumennetz folgen und sich der Wind zu einem wundervollen Orchester aufbaut, fühle ich, ich würde nun nicht mehr meiner Schwester Mime sein. Mein Verrat ist ein anderer. Die Schönheit, die sich mir anvertraut in Worte fassen zu wollen.

ohhh

Frieda — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 07:08:45 +0000

is there gingerbread in israel?

last goodbyes

Frieda — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 09:54:53 +0000

Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting.

J. M. Barrie: Peter Pan.

about difference

Frieda — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 05:30:41 +0000

]]>

q.e.d.

Frieda — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 05:15:59 +0000

Des Menschen Herz erdenkt sich seinen Weg; aber der HERR allein lenkt seinen Schritt.

Sprüche 16,9

Mensa

Frieda — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 19:40:32 +0000

So, jetzt erzähl doch mal was du so machst. Ich weiß eigentlich nichts von dir, außer dass du irgendwie nerdig bist.

Design Blast 2010

Frieda — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 16:57:17 +0000

It’s not about doing things different from others, it’s about doing things different from yourself.

(frei nach) Benjamin Reichen, Åbäke

reblog

Frieda — Sun, 30 May 2010 20:35:41 +0000

At age 8, your dad buys you an ice cream. You thanked him by dripping it all over his lap. When you were 9 years old, he paid for piano lessons. You thanked him by never even bothering to practice. When you were 10 years old he drove you all day, from soccer to football to one birthday party after another. You thanked him by jumping out of the car and never looking back. When you were 11 years old, he took you and your friends to the movies. You thanked him by asking to sit in a different row. When you were 12 years old, he warned you not to watch certain TV shows. You thanked him by waiting until he left the house. When you were 13, he suggested a haircut that was in fashion. You thanked him by telling him he had no taste. When you were 14, he paid for a month away at summer camp. You thanked him by forgetting to write a single letter. When you were 15, he came home from work, looking for a hug. You thanked him by having your bedroom door locked. When you were 16, he taught you how to drive his car. You thanked him by taking it every chance you could. When you were 17, he was expecting an important call. You thanked him by being on the phone all night. When you were 18, he cried at your high school graduation. You thanked him by staying out partying until dawn. When you were 19, he paid for your college tuition, drove you to campus carried your bags. You thanked him by saying good-bye outside the dorm so you wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of your friends. When you were 25, he helped to pay for your wedding, and he told you how deep he loved you. You thanked him by moving halfway across the country. When you were 50, he fell ill and needed you to take care of him . You thanked him by reading about the burden parents become to their children. And then, one day, he quietly died. And everything you never did came crashing down like thunder on YOUR HEART. If you love your dad, reblog

(via chickenshit)

Schubladendenken

Frieda — Wed, 26 May 2010 15:39:49 +0000

— Ah, jetzt stecke ich dich aber in eine Schublade.
— Und was steht drauf?
— Dein Name.

on rock, facing the sea, listening.

Frieda — Tue, 18 May 2010 16:46:28 +0000

You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you don’t even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don’t even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is. Or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant.

George Monroe. Life As A House

well, this is strange …

Frieda — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 22:43:49 +0000

heute habe ich einen faun gesehen.
er hat mir vom fröhlichen sommer in narnia erzählt.
von den wiesen und wäldern.
mitnehmen kann er mich nicht.

What if

Frieda — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 06:06:57 +0000

What if you slept
And what if
In your sleep
You dreamed
And what if
In your dream
You went to heaven
And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower
And what if
When you awoke
You had that flower in you hand
Ah, what then?

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

via undisclosed Viktor.

post scriptum

Frieda — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 00:12:10 +0000

mary’s been wrong.
i love you. right now.

(to) mosby

Frieda — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 21:51:57 +0000

Okay, I’m going to say something out loud that I’ve been doing a pretty good job of not saying out loud lately.
What you and Tony have, what I thought—for a second—you and I had, what I know that Marshall and Lily have, I want that. I do. I keep waiting for it to happen. I’m waiting for it to happen and I guess I’m just tired of waiting.
And that is all I’m going to say on that subject.

Ted Mosby. How I Met Your Mother. Season 4. Ep 23.

* ** * * *

Frieda — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 21:27:28 +0000

i wish for snow on my birthday

footprints

Frieda — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 19:48:24 +0000

remember the last time you ran just because you wanted to?

Frieda — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 22:57:53 +0000