Things That ‘Did Not’ This Week

Her teeth white and painful and fake

My X-Ray the fuel for her finessed façade of interest

“You nearly fractured your elbow,” she says

But I didn’t

“All the damage is here except for an actual fracture,” she says

But I didn’t

“You should have paid attention to your body,” she says

But I didn’t

“You should have listened to the pain, come in sooner,” she says

But I didn’t

“You should feel very lucky,” she says

But I didn’t.



You sit in front of me with your despair dripping like melting ice cream

The need outweighs the discomfort found in every pause

“I wanted to,” you say

But you didn’t

“They say I am at risk,” you say

But you didn’t

“It’s heavy, it’s everywhere, I feel like I’m drowning in it,” you say

But you didn’t

“I want to end all of it,” you say

But you didn’t.



3:00 AM wears thin on my ceiling as I stare up into the morning darkness

The paint of that hour dries faster than my eyes drift to sleep

“You could choose stay,” I say

But I didn’t

“It would be safe, you should feel safe there,” I say

But I didn’t

“You could have found a boring, beautiful happiness,” I say

But I didn’t

“Don’t run away, just this once,” I say

But I didn’t.



God makes His plans known to his people by blowing kisses through gusts of wind

He sits in a tall tree above an empty wooden swing

“You could write beautiful things instead of sad things,” He says

But she didn’t

“Listen, the world is asking for you, don’t you want them?” He says

But she didn’t

“If you left Me, the whole world would applaud you,” He says

But she didn’t

“I think your sad things are also your beautiful things,” He says

But she didn’t.



(Mostly) Unnecessary Update

I suppose this is one of those posts that don’t make a whole lot of sense to anyone reading it but is still necessary for me, the writer, in order to make sense of myself and the place I am living right now. I’ve been spending a great deal of time getting angry with people who ask me “how was Ecuador?” expecting anything other the very long-winded truth that leaves me near tears and them wishing they’d never asked. I cannot tell you how Ecuador was in three words, if you really wanted to know, you would choose to be important enough in my life to see how it was just by looking at the circles under my eyes and the stars in them. Everyone that got to stay in Ecuador keeps posting pictures of the things they are doing and it makes me want to peel off all my skin and put someone else in that frame, so that Hannah Asfeldt wouldn’t be able to remember the might of last semester. I guess to put it plainly, I am jealous and I already feel forgotten, two things that I haven’t ever let get the best of me before, but now it seems they are. I want someone to say, “I wish you were still here”, heck, I wish I was still there. Do you realize how lucky you are? Do you realize how easy it is for a place that once felt like home to start feeling like a coffin?


I’ve been staring at my homework for hours lately, just staring, not doing. I’ve been staring and wondering if any of it is worth it, if I wouldn’t actually be happier running away into the Great Unknown, (seriously attempting to make money off of my words and my music), buying some little trailer and just driving and camping wherever I need to. I could settle down in Glacier National Park and strengthen my new found faith in ice people. I could crash in the Redwood National Forest and speak to trees all day long and tell God that He did well. Or I could (finally) conquer my fear of Utah and discover canyons and rock I have never experienced before. I still do not know what the desert looks like. I had real fun for the first time last night in a while and it had a little bit to do with the phenomenal company and whole lot to do with the wind in my hair and the lack of a destination. The call of the Great Adventure is turning into an incessant pounding of drums at the forefront of my ears and I’m wondering how long I can resist for the sake of ‘adulthood’ before I go and once more join in that song.


It seems I’ve started thinking three years ahead of everyone else around me and that makes justifying anything Undergraduate related seem positively ridiculous. My degree is now the only thing that matters at college, and I can’t even muster the motivation to work better at that. Everything is foggy.


God has been making me trust Him more as of late. I always trusted Him, in the way a trapeze artist trusts that the net beneath her will catch her, but she does the whole show perfectly anyways so it doesn’t even matter that the net is there. Now that I know life doesn’t have a safety net – if you believe it does, you haven’t lived – God is telling me to give the show all I’ve got anyways because He will catch me when I fall. Note that I said when not if. He’s been telling me lately that I really don’t know anything of true trust, that I’ve never actually let anyone in that deep. Sometimes we talk for hours and sometimes we don’t even speak for a minute, sometimes I can’t look Him in the eye without my walls up, but He tends to take them down in the most violently loving way possible, so I’m learning to just leave them there, down.


Scandinavian music has become the soundtrack to my life as I have finally realized that I have to stop chasing the understanding of everyone else’s background and finally start chasing my own. So far one of the most surprising things I’ve found is that my old Viking ancestors were way more religious than I thought. Naturally, they believed in different gods than I do, but their faith was just as much if not more guiding than the compass of the man at the helm of those ships. Even though I don’t believe in those gods, I’ve found their stories to be a comfort; I’ve found their truths in my own blood regardless of their level of fiction. I’ve found Loki hopping between my neurons when I sit down to write, I’ve found Thor chasing behind me when I run, I’ve found Forseti perched upon my shoulders when I read the news, I’ve found Vidar hold my chin up when it starts to fall, and I’ve found Skadi placing a crown of ice on my head when I feel my beauty is a thing to be ashamed of. I wonder if they know they aren’t real. There is a reason people keep writing books when the world already has enough to fill several lifetimes. Stories are what keep us alive.


Basically, being alive is really good. My future is unknown but it’s bright. My body is doing things it’s never done before and my mind is falling in love with what it’s convinced itself to do. I miss Ecuador and it’s mountains and the way everything felt alive always. I miss feeling alive always. I’m at about a 77/23 where I am now. But I’m learning, as one tends to do in college, and I’m listening in places where I’ve previously heard silence and the whole of it is beautifully loud. I sometimes wonder if people want to hear the things I have to say. Is there anyone out there who would listen if I wrote more than this website? Maybe it doesn’t matter, I think that’s part of being an artist, making art for creation and not for reception. The more I listen the more I have to say and to me, that’s why God is an empowering God. He never tells me to be quiet, not the way the god I thought was God used to.


That’s all for now. Hopefully I’ll be going to South Dakota for the summer (which is surprisingly sooner than you would think) and hopefully the openness of that place will help clear the fog away. Life is good but the future is confusing. Or maybe it’s life is confusing but the future is good. I’ll take it either way.

what are you running away from?


what are you running away from, child?

what are you running away from when you sleep with your windows open no matter the cost of temperature, no matter the ease with which bad men could make their way up those walls, no matter the wings that fly in to lose their life to the light?

what is it about that breeze that keeps your stir crazy self sane, that breeze that makes you tame your mane instead of letting it fall dirty and matted and free around your shoulders, that breeze that makes you breathe with your eyes closed?

aren’t you afraid you might fly away with it?

or perhaps you already have, and you keep those windows open in hopes you will one day return.

I know you’ve spent long days with your head hanging over the edge of the bed, eyes half open, heart fully broken, trying to believe that there are no whispers on the wind telling you to go.

what are you running away from when you sneak out of crowds when the lights go down and the voices are loud so your friends don’t notice your absence the way they notice the trees when they first start to bud?

what are you running away from when you pray to wake up invisible?

and God, how do you answer Him?

He sees you running from miles away and yet He stays, He stays where He knows you will stop when you are ready to talk and He waits with the diligence of a marble Roman statue.

and what is your excuse?

who made it so you cannot even open your mouth to scream “Why?” when He tries to reach out His arms to you, but rather you stand, brimming with boiling waterfalls, shaking your head in distrust as you turn away to start running again.

where is the start of your damage?

what made the first break in your mind?

I’ve found my freedom at the top of mountains too tall for demons to climb, but what goes up must come down, and I always came down.

it seems that now, I’ve stayed.

I was trained far more in cross country than in combat so when the mistakes I have made and the men who have made me mute and the demons who don’t dare stop their destruction finally catch up to me, I look for my open window instead of my weapon. and I run.

I am tired of walking the plank just because my vessel has the potential to turn from ship to shipwreck.

I am tired of calling it quits at the hint of connection.

I am tired of feeling guilt at the thought of resurrection.

but this life seems to spin too fast for my liking sometimes so I run to keep up, or to out last, or to not be left behind.

running away is what I do best

it’s what I do instead of being the lady that doth protest

but I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut and my lungs over capacity, I want to turn my forward motion into forward tenacity

I want to see the roses bloom where I plant them


you can stop running anytime, love, anytime.

the wind still blows even when your window is not open to feel it.

don’t believe what they say about once a goner, always a goner; the Lord will you meet you where your legs stop working and He will carry you to the finish line, stroking your hair all the while.

there is kindness the color of glaciers and hope as important as bees, they will rest upon you once you start growing, so start growing and stop running and know that your feet deserve a rest just as much as your mind does.

stop running and start growing:

you’ll find that your soles know how to take root, and how to take root quickly, you’ll find that your shoulders are mountains in themselves and your waist is small enough to slip through the cracks in their armor.

your hair is South Dakota wheat waving in the wind and your voice is the wind in itself.

your spine cracks like the trees and grows even taller and your ribs have the stars trapped between them.

just stop, take a break, take a rest, take a breather, take enough time to photosynthesize into a reminder that you are more terrifying that the things that chase you.

you’ll find that they might stop dead in their tracks once you do too.

Lyrics to Let Me Be Your Sun/Let Me Be Your Moon

I was out picking flowers

I had no concern for the hours

I had no concern for the time I was given

I had yet to realize I wasn’t quite living


So much life all around me

The bees and the trees were abounding

Nothing was painful but nothing was daring

But then I saw you and was quickly comparing the night to every day

The night to every day


And I sang:


Ooh, O Dark you

Ooh, such a deeper view


Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun


Ooh, I’ve been waiting for you

Ooh, I will see this through


Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun



You stayed there in the shadows

They all said you’d came from the gallows

but all I could notice was how you would smile

When I would sing just to make you stay there for a while

Please stay for a while


One day you walked towards me

I wasn’t scared or abhorring

Cause those who know death well know life all the more

And those who know neither I find to be quite the bore compared to you

All bore compared to you


And she sang:


Ooh, O Dark you

Ooh, such a deeper view


Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun


Ooh, I’ve been waiting for you

Ooh, I will see this through


Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun

Let me be your sun



Ooh He walked towards her, he walked towards her, he walked towards

Ooh he did adore her, he did adore her, he did adore her


I heard your song from below

And somehow knew where to go

Above to the land where no one wants to see me

I’d all but lost hope but in you I found meaning


How could someone like her love me?

The thought alone was astounding

So I took what I was given, was enough just to listen

I didn’t need much, just to have what was missing one day

I only needed one day


But then your eyes looked towards me

They weren’t scared or abhorring

So I came back here as long as I could

Just to listen and finally believe in good

Who knew I could, you’re` good, who knew I could


And he said:


Ooh, then I took your hand

Ooh, I know my past is black


Let me be your moon

Let me be your moon

Let me be your moon


Ooh, though I come from darker lands

Ooh, I swear I’m a better man


Let me be your moon

Let me be your moon

Let me be your moon


cancelled contract

he is growing inside of me even as you stare and search for new cracks in my surface

even as you watch with a wary eye for the weakening of my worn heart

even as you say your hands are out to catch me when I fall

even when I see your hands are shaking


he is growing and I am growing with him and I will not need your hands anymore


I know you do not know how to love me without needing a toolbox

burn that manual that was stained with my tears and creased beneath your hands before they began to shake

throw away those nails you used to pound into my skin telling me that the blood was painful but necessary, that the healing would come in time

bury those hammers in the back yard

those hammers you would hand out to the team of healers you recruited in my honor

those hammers that blocked the light enough for me to realize there even was light I had been missing

those hammers I tried to throw right back at you

give that wrench to someone else, to someone who is still in pieces, to someone who has yet to become a home for anything other than pain

break in half that staple gun I would press to my own skin just to show you that I felt no pain, just to show you that I was stronger than anyone else, just to show you that I was so empty, just to show you there would be no blood

squeeze out all that glue you used to bathe me in when I came home at the end of night with my own body scattered between my own arms, the glue you said would keep me together long enough for morning to come

burn those tarps you and the team would wrap my body in as I lay shivering on the floor


I am no longer a house for you to reconstruct

I no longer have a demolition wish for myself

I stand on the top of a crane called faith and I have no fear

though the wind blow and tempt me to fall into it’s cradling, lying arms, I stand firmly rooted, a million miles above the collapsed shack I used to be

and I shout “I am no building but the forest they want to chop down for wood!”

and I shout “I am no system of pipes but the rushing river they cannot tame!”

and I shout “I am no mess of wire but the electric shiver the earth feels when the lighting kisses her cheek!”

he is growing and I am growing with him and I have long since surpassed the cage I used to need to stay alive

he is growing and I am growing with him

he is growing and I am growing

he is growing

he is

Standing at the Door of the Future, As Always.

After so many difficult things in our lives we seem to stand in one place and stare at the earth spinning faster and faster away from us and all we can ask is “where do we go from here?”


“what’s the next step?”


“can there be a Future?”


I suppose I’ve been asking those questions with a higher frequency lately. I’ve spent a profound amount of time letting my eyes wander over my own skin at night when I should be sleeping, memorizing the scars I’ve earned as of late, wandering if the scars on my soul will ever heal as well as the ones on my skin have. Those questions are the types of questions that keep me up at night, pacing and pacing, wishing that the number on the thermometer were higher so I could actually cover some ground in my contemplative prowl. I’ve always been a fan of walking fast enough so that my body can keep up with my brain.


Where do I go from here?


These questions plague me and I sit at the altar of God (also known as the drivers seat of my car) and I ask what could have been avoided and how much worse things could have been. Full people tell me that I am free and that I am still beautiful, and I wonder if they knew the details, the details I don’t even tell myself, if they would still be able to say that. I wonder how conditional their forgiveness is. I wonder when or if they will someday hold it over my head.


I remember the first time I ever heard the words “You are absolved of your sins. Your record has been made clean. You are free.” I was at a youth conference up in the Rockies and after a led time of confession and repentance, the speaker verbalized the change that we were supposed to have felt.


And I was floored.


I was left crying and in awe, because for the first time in my life, I actually felt forgiven. They say that forgiveness is something given to you freely by God if you only put your faith in Him, but He had been a concrete wall I stopped trying to scale years ago but this verbal absolving showed me the door that had been in that wall all along. It was unlocked, too, with a sign that said ‘All Are Welcome’. I felt welcome.


Ever since then, I hadn’t been afraid to face God with my sins laid out clear on my forearms. He has never been late to removing that weight from my shoulders. But what I have yet to learn or understand is how any human can give that kind of love like He can.


I remember walking at night when I was younger and thinking that even the fireflies were avoiding me, thinking that I was far better suited to wear nothing on my head than that shimmering crown of flowers all the princesses wore in the books my parents read to me at night. I would ask God why the earth shook under my feet in a way that made people run from me instead of want to shake the earth with me. I saw so many women who were always one predictable shape and who fit neatly into the puzzle but no matter what I did, I could not stop from morphing between ‘uncomfortably too big’ and ‘far too small’.


But now that I am older I have realized and believed in a world that doesn’t need me one size, but that world is lonely and since coming back from South America I have felt like I once more don’t belong in the puzzle box I was placed in. I have felt like I was haphazardly picked up from behind the couch and thrown in with an image that I do not belong to.


God has been Good and Faithful and He has been speaking to me about the future in ways I don’t deserve to know, but I am still too afraid to ask Him questions. I am still too afraid that if I try to engage in conversation with Him versus just listening to Him speak, He will turn into that concrete wall that towered over me for years. He is not that wall. I know that. I have known that. I will continue to know that. But the human spirit is not impermeable to doubt and I have been known to find great success in the ways of being a lost cause.


When I read His Word and see words like “all” and “my people” I still have that little voice inside that says “except you”. I am grown enough to know to challenge it, to tell it to speak only when spoken to, to realize that voice is not someone led by truth but rather by lies, but I can’t help but wonder if anybody else hears it, or just me.


Do you hear it?


Do you hear me?


Why do I still desire to be heard?


There is a new smell on the winds of the days to come, and I greatly look forward to falling headfirst into that storm. I have no doubt it will be positively electrifying. I just know that I am probably more at risk than ever to believing the lies of my past. But perhaps in being aware of my susceptibility, my resistance is fortified. I am still taking things one day at a time, but it’s been month since I even considered giving myself an expiration date and for that I am thankful. Forgiveness will come and I will not run from goodness in this next season of my life and Jesus will continue to be inside of me versus just barely at arms reach. I believe that the voice of Doubt will get softer and I will more and more be opening my own mouth to speak and God will be there listening.


The discussion portion of an online Psychology class is really just a bunch of amateurs giving each other therapy and getting class credit for it.